The Nanny Van (a short story)

Very little goes unnoticed when you're living on a quiet cul-de-sac in the suburbs, and some middle aged and middle class couples have nothing better to do than to keep an eye on all the comings and goings on their quiet little street; people walking, someone mowing the lawn, a parcel being delivered, a car reversing from a driveway, kids playing or being noisy, a dog running free and so on. Nothing much happens in suburbia and little observations help keep the residents occupied and give them something to talk about.

“There's a van pulling up outside number fifty-four.” Harry mentioned to his wife.

“What sort of van?” Maud replied.

“Delivery van I guess.” he said.

“What colour is it?”

“Grey.”

“Does it say anything on the side?” Maud asked.

“I don't know! I can't see from this angle.” Harry impatiently retorted.

“Let's have a look.” Maud said, appearing by his side and peering out of the front bedroom window.

“There's some women getting out.” Harry remarked.

“Nannies... by the looks of them.”

“They look more like prison wardens.” The two women wore smart grey skirt suits, black nylons and sensible shoes. Maud insisted that they were nannies. “Why would they be going to fifty four?” Harry wondered. “Them kids are too old for a nanny.”

“It depends on the nanny.” his wife knowingly replied. “You keep watching... I'll call Denise.”

“Why are you calling Denise?” Harry quizzed, keeping his eye on the van and the women.

“To tell her that the nanny van has turned up at fifty-four.”

Maud and Harry are middle class which means they have a telephone in the bedroom and in the hall. “Let me know if they bring the boy out.” Maud told Harry. “Denise! You'll never guess what's just pulled up outside number fifty-four. … I can't quite see the side but it looks like a County Domestic van. … The boy I presume. … You were telling me he'd been getting into bother. ...” Maud said. “Can you see anything Harry?” He shook his head. “They haven't brought him out yet.” Maud said the Denise. “Go and have a look from your bedroom window!” Maud instructed.

Denise was already halfway to her bedroom. Slyly, she parted the net curtain and peered down at the van. Emblazoned on the side is County Domestic Services in large letters, under which the nature of their service is stated; Debreecher & Petticoater. “Yes I can see.” Denise replied to Maud's line of enquiry. “The nannies must be inside.” she said, peering at the front door of number fifty-four.

“Yes... I saw them go in.” Maud said. “...then called you straight away!” she added. “Mind if I pop round for coffee?”

“Nosey more like!” Harry dryly stated. “What's going on?” he asked. “What's a county domestic van?”

“You don't know what a County Domestic van is?” Maud asked. Harry shook his head. “Didn't your mother threaten to call one when you were a boy?” she quizzed.

Harry shook his head and looked outside. “They're putting the boy in the van!” he stated. “Where they taking him?”

“He's not going anywhere.” Maud replied. “...but he's about to embark on a journey.” she added.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

“Watch and learn.” his wife said. “I'll be back in a while.”

Maud left leaving him clueless and perplexed. He watched the van for a while. His wife had a good long look as she strolled past, heading to Denise who lives opposite number fifty four.

Intrigued, Harry looked from the window but it didn't move and no one got in or out of it. After as few long minutes, he put the kettle on, made a cup of tea and returned to the window. Nothing. Just a van on the street. Harry soon got bored and read the paper instead.

Meanwhile his wife and neighbour Denise didn't once take their eyes off the van. They sat peering out of the bedroom window; gossiping, speculating, expectantly waiting. Almost an hour had passed before something happened. The van's rear door opened. One of the nannies emerged and stood to attention. “Here he comes!” Denise cooed. The women sniggered as the twelve year old boy stepped out. He nervously glanced around before hanging his head.

“I love the way they dress them.” Maud commented as she observed every detail of his prissy party dress.

“Like a seven year old.” Denise replied as she also admired the dress; big collar, puffed sleeves, a bow on the back and clearly a voluminous petticoat beneath it. The boy reached into the van and took hold of something large, yet clearly not heavy. “What's that?”

“His nappies I presume.” Maud replied.

“Oh yes.” Denise realised. “I always felt putting them in nappies was rather cruel.” she said as the boy mournfully walked toward his family home, flanked by the two nannies.

“It's just part of the process.” Maud stated. “Imagine being a boy and you're told you've got to wear frilly knickers from now on...”

“I imagine they'd refuse.” Denise presumed.

“Imagine being a boy and having to choose between wearing a pair of very frilly knickers, or a nappy.”

“I'd choose the knickers.” Denise replied.

“Exactly.” Maud said. “The nappies are just for bedtime really... but refuse to put your knickers on and you spend the day in a nappy instead.”

“I see.” Denise realised. “That makes sense.” she said. “But they won't really need them at bedtime.” she added.

“Not to begin with... but the beauty of petticoating is that they'll come to rely on them.” Maud said. Denise quizzed what benefit that would have and Maud explained. “The main problem with adolescent boys is they have too much bluster, too much backbone and too much bravado...”

“Too much of everything.” Denise interjected.

“Quite.” Maud agreed. “So we put them in a dress to knock the wind out of their sails, and send them to bed early, wearing a nappy, like big baby.” she stated.

“That's the bit I struggle with.” Denise interrupted. “He's long past the bed wetting age.”

“Well if you'll let me finish.” Maud impatiently sighed. “The nappies they wear won't easily come off so they have no choice but wet themselves. Of course they hang on for as long as they can but they know it's inevitable... but as I understand it, after a few weeks of regular bedtime nappies, they psychologically adapt and stop waking up. After a month or so, they wake every morning in a wet nappy and have no recollection of doing it.” Maud paused and sipped her coffee.

“So... they're trained to wet the bed again?” Denise queried.

Maud nodded. Denise reiterated that she felt it was cruel. “Sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind.” Maud said. “But imagine being a teenage boy who wets the bed.”

“It must be awful.”

“It must.” Maud agreed. “How much bravado do you think you'd have? How much bluster or backbone?” she asked.

“Not much at all.” Denise nervously chuckled.

“Exactly.” Maud stated. She turned her eyes to the window and the house opposite “Give it a couple of months and the last thing that boy will want is to get himself into bother. He won't be getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. He'll keep out of the allotments and won't kick the heads off next-door's daffodils. His school grades will improve because he'll be getting a good night's sleep without interruptions...” she explained. “...and he certainly won't be sneaking out after curfew.” she added, since Denise had reported seeing him doing just that last weekend.

“I always thought simply dressing them as girls resolved most of that.” Denise replied.

“Most but not all.” Maud stated. “Putting them in dresses won't assure a good night's sleep, but training them to become nocturnally incontinent will.” she informed Denise. “...and they only wet themselves. It's not like they wake up soiled.”

“Yes I suppose.” Denise concurred.

“And you said yourself he had it coming to him.” Maud replied.

“I did.” Denise replied. “I didn't expect the Nanny Van though. I didn't think the Jackson's were the sort. Whenever I've spoken to his mother about his behaviour she just says 'boys will be boys'... and the father's not much use either. He's not the type who'd put him over his knee and give him a good hiding.”

“I don't really agree with beating children.” Maud stated. “Does more harm than good in many cases.” she added. “Petticoating is harmless, yet humbling.” she said, looking over at number fifty-four.

Eventually the nannies left number fifty-four and drove away. Maud returned home. “Did you see, Harry?” she enthused.

“See what?”

“The boy from number fifty-four coming out of the van?”

“Oh him... no. I watched for a while but nothing happened so I read the paper instead.” Harry replied. “Why, what did I miss?” he quizzed.

“The most exciting thing to happen on this street for years!” Maud exclaimed, then explained.

Harry could scarcely believe his ears! “They dressed him as a girl?!” he gasped.

“Mmm hmm.” his wife replied. “So if you ever see a girl in a very prissy dress coming or going from number fifty-four... it's that boy!” she told him. “And when you do, make sure you let me know because I don't want to miss anything.”

“I'm sure Denise will keep you posted darling.” Harry replied before returning his attention to the newspaper. A few moments passed before Harry asked “What good is dressing him like a girl supposed to do?”

“How would you feel if it was you when you were his age?”

“Humiliated.” he said. “Embarrassed.” he added. “Ashamed.”

“Exactly!” Maud replied. “It's the perfect antidote for boisterous boys.” she stated.

“Hmm... I suppose.” Harry mumbled.

Maud, Harry and Denise weren't the only people on that sleepy little cul-de-sac to see the Nanny Van parked outside number fifty-four. At number thirty-six, Kevin, an eleven year old boy sat peering out of his bedroom window and saw a girl get out of the van and go into the house. A few minutes later, his mother entered with a bundle of laundry. “Some girl's moving into number fifty-four.” he told her.

“What makes you think that?” his mother asked.

“Because she came in a delivery van and carried a big box, and the women who were with her had some cases too.” Kevin said.

His mother peered out of the window and across the street. “There is a van.” she said. “But I don't think it's a delivery van.” she added. “Go and fetch the binoculars please Kevin.”

“What is it?” he asked as his mother made some murmured remarks as she peered through the binoculars. “Let me see!”

“It's not a delivery van... it's a County Domestic Services van.” she told him.

“What's that?”

“A debreecher and petticoater.” she replied. Kevin remained clueless. His mother lowered the binoculars. “It's what happens when boys can't behave themselves.” she told him. “I think that girl you saw might have been the boy from number fifty-four.”

“It can't have been. She was wearing a dress... with a big bow on the back.” Kevin described. “And a big ribbon in her hair.”

“If it says debreecher and petticoater on that van, then it only means one thing.” his mother told him. Once again, Kevin asked what it meant. “Well... debreeching means to take a boy out of breeches, or trousers as we call them these days.” his mother told him. “And petticoating means putting a boy in petticoats, or dresses... girls clothes.”

“Why?” Kevin gasped.

“To make them behave themselves.” his mother said. “I think that boy over there must've been getting into trouble.” she assumed. “Do you know him?”

“No.” Kevin replied. “I see him at school but he's not in my year.”

“Well... best to steer clear. He'll be a bad influence.” his mother warned. “...or would have been.” she added. “He'll be on his very best behaviour from now on I expect.”

“How does wearing a dress make him behave?” Kevin quizzed.

“I'll buy you one then you can find out.” his mother replied, smiling.

“I don't want a dress!” Kevin retorted.

“Most boys don't.” his mother replied

Many other curtains twitched whilst the County Domestic Services van was parked outside number fifty-four. Those who didn't know what it was presumed it must be a plumber or possibly an appliance repair service, and those who did know watched with intrigue until the van had gone. In the days that followed, the residents and neighbours would stop and gossip in the street. “Did you see the van outside 54?” one would ask. “No but I heard about it!” another might reply. “Have you seen the boy since?” one might ask. “Not a glance. Have you?” the response could be. “I heard that he's been put back in nappies too!” one might say. “I've no sympathy!” one might retort. “Serves him right!” another might agree. “Nappies at his age! Whatever for?” someone might ask. “That's beyond cruel!” they might claim. “Social Services should be informed!” they could rant. “Social Services probably sent the nanny van!” some would retort. “A few years in petticoats will keep him out of trouble.”

I told you it was short :)