by Alex Milway
‘I should wait and see who the winner is before saying such a thing,’ said Anna. ‘But thank you all the same.’
5
Flying No More
Lemmy was idling away his time shuffling paper and binning dried-out old pens at the front desk when Alfonso Fastbeak walked into the lobby. He stretched his legs and stretched his wings, and though he looked the part he seemed but a mere shadow of himself.
‘Oh, no, no, no!’ he muttered.
‘Sir?’ asked Lemmy.
‘Gee whizz, I think I’ve lost it,’ said Alfonso.
‘Lost what?’
‘My wings don’t lift me up any more,’ he replied. ‘Watch.’
Alfonso flapped as hard as he could, but he barely left the carpet.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ said Lemmy.
‘How good are you at flying?’ asked Alfonso.
Lemmy rushed from the desk and consoled the pigeon. He showed him to a chair. ‘Take a seat,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you a cocoa. That’ll cure anything.’
Alfonso took out his poster and gazed wistfully at the photo of him in flight.
‘Say, what good’s a pigeon without wings?’ he said. ‘I may as well go hang out at the fountains and bother tourists for scraps.’
‘No!’ said Lemmy, returning with a steaming cup of cocoa. ‘Don’t talk like that. I think you’re brilliant.’
‘I was,’ said Alfonso. ‘I was the best stunt pigeon this side of the ocean, and I was supposed to be breaking records in just a few days’ time, but look at me now!’
The revolving doors spun and Anna arrived back at Hotel Flamingo. She could barely contain her excitement, but upon seeing Alfonso looking so sad she knew something was wrong.
‘Lemmy?’ she asked.
‘Alfonso is in a bad way,’ Lemmy replied.
‘I’m shot through,’ said Alfonso, his head in his wing. ‘This stunt pigeon’s wings have been clipped.’
‘He’s forgotten how to fly, miss,’ said Lemmy. He cupped his mouth to speak secretly. ‘I think he’s just lost his confidence after the fall.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Anna. ‘There must be something we can do?’
Lemmy shrugged. ‘What, though, miss?’
‘I have an idea,’ she said.
‘You do?’ said Alfonso.
Anna patted the pigeon on the shoulder. ‘I know just the person to call,’ she said. ‘But first I must speak to our chef.’
•
‘We’ve got a competition!’ said Anna excitedly.
Madame Le Pig took hold of a huge chopping knife and readied a huge pumpkin.
‘Who is taking part?’ she asked.
‘Peston Crumbletart,’ said Anna.
Madame Le Pig looked unimpressed and gave a dry snort. Unusually, thought Anna, maybe she even looked a bit worried.
‘AND Laurence Toot-Toot!’ said Anna. ‘The three greatest chefs head-to-head at Hotel Flamingo. It is going to be the most amazing event.’
Madame Le Pig cut the pumpkin in half with one almighty chop.
‘Good. I am pleased for you,’ she said.
‘Shall I build a stage?’ asked Anna. ‘We can have you all working in a line. Lights? Music? Make it a big show?’
Madame Le Pig took another violent chop at the pumpkin.
‘These are all unnecessary garnish,’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘I need nothing more than ingredients and heat.’
‘OK,’ said Anna. ‘But this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. It has to be exciting.’
‘That is your problem, not mine,’ said the chef, scooping out pumpkin seeds and flicking them angrily to the worktop.
Anna knew when to leave.
‘You know best,’ she said.
‘Yes I do,’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘I must create a whole new menu. Now go.’
6
Plans are Afoot
Lemmy had done little but answer phone calls all morning. News had spread around Animal Boulevard faster than a rising cake, and the competition was the only thing people were talking about.
‘We’ve already sold out!’ said Lemmy as Anna left her office with a huge piece of paper in hand. She’d drawn out the whole plan for the stage and kitchens and needed to give it to Stella. The giraffe was going to have her work cut out.
‘SOLD OUT?!’ said Anna. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Yup!’ He laughed. ‘The animals around here certainly like their food.’
Anna bathed for a few seconds in the glory of success. And then the reality of it hit. The event had to be amazing and time was running out.
‘We’ve got to get to work,’ she said. ‘Come next Friday the ballroom has to be fully ready for the showdown to end all showdowns. The Battle of the Chefs!’
‘We’ll manage it, miss!’ said Lemmy.
‘Did you find a judge?’ asked T. Bear, who’d been listening in while tending to plants in the foyer. ‘I mean, I’d happily do it myself, but the other chefs might think I was biased.’
Anna slapped her forehead. ‘I’ve completely forgotten to do that,’ she said.
‘Want to leave it with me, miss?’ asked T. Bear. ‘I have a few ideas.’
‘Would you?’ said Anna.
T. Bear saluted. ‘It would be an honour,’ he said.
•
The last of the snow had melted, and the sun was shining again on Animal Boulevard. Out on the terrace, clusters of yellow, purple and white flowers had broken through the earth in the flower beds, and everything was coming back to life.
Anna danced across the terraces, brimming with excitement. She found Stella Giraffe, the hotel’s handywoman, hard at work unwrapping protective winter coats from the palm trees.
‘STELLA!’ she cried. ‘I need you!’
Stella knew exactly what was to follow – Anna always wanted something building, and it was never easy. Still, Stella liked a challenge.
‘What is it this time?’ she asked.
Anna opened up her paper plans, revealing the stage design.
‘It’s a giant kitchen,’ said Anna. ‘Actually, it’s three kitchens rolled into one.’
‘Three kitchens? Three ovens? Three hobs?’ said Stella. ‘And how long do I have to build it?’
Anna bit her lip. ‘A week?’
‘Where am I going to find three ovens in a week?’ said Stella, waving her hoof in the air like a sword.
‘You’ll do it! I know you will!’ said Anna with a smile.
She walked back past Jojo the otter, who was testing the water in the pool. After being closed throughout winter, the otter was all smiles at the prospect of swimming once more.
‘Just perfect,’ she said, and leapt in.
Anna was overjoyed to feel the hotel coming alive again.
•
‘Where is he, darling?’ announced Ms Fragranti, bursting through the door in a flurry of bright pink feathers.
Ms Fragranti was the founder of a stage school for pink flamingos, and she always came to Anna’s aid when she needed help. She swept elegantly through the lobby.
‘You’re here!’ said Anna, rushing to give her friend a hug.
Ms Fragranti placed her luggage on the floor and tidied up her scarf.
‘When you call, I always answer!’ she said.
‘Follow me,’ said Anna. ‘Alfonso is in a bad way.’
‘I’ll have him dancing the tango in no time,’ said Ms Fragranti.
‘You do know he wants to fly again?’ said Anna, asking for reassurance. ‘Not dance.’
‘Yes, darling!’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘But we must take small steps in the gloom before we leap into the dark, yes?’
Anna loved having Ms Fragranti to stay. She always made a difference. They found Alfonso in the Piano Lounge making imaginary aerobatic moves with his wingtips. He was looking very sorry for himself.
‘Alfonso,’ said Anna, ‘I’ve got someone here who can help you.’
The pigeon leapt to his feet at the mag
nificent sight of Ms Fragranti.
‘Alfonso Fastbeak, ma’am!’ he announced with a salute. ‘Fastest pigeon this side of the ocean.’
‘How wonderful to meet you, darling,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘I hear you are having some difficulties.’
‘Gee whizz, that’s one way of putting it,’ he said. ‘What’s a bird without flight?’
‘Rather useless, I should imagine,’ said Ms Fragranti, flapping her gigantic pink wings. ‘But we shall have you back in the air in no time. However, we will need a room to workshop our strategy.’
‘Already dealt with,’ said Anna. ‘The Royal Suite is available. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds divine,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘And the pool is heated still?’
‘Exactly as you like it,’ said Anna.
The flamingo dipped her neck. ‘Terrific,’ she said. ‘We’ll start first thing in the morning!’
7
Testing Flight
After breakfast, Lemmy showed Alfonso to the Royal Suite up on the highest floor in the hotel. He rang the bell and Ms Fragranti opened the door.
‘Come on in, darling,’ she said. ‘Are you staying, Mr Lemmy?’
‘Please do,’ said Alfonso. ‘I’d like the support.’
Lemmy took a seat by the windows and gazed out over Animal Boulevard. It seemed so high up to him. He gulped, and turned back to the room, which had been cleared of furniture ready for the day.
Ms Fragranti started with some vocal exercises.
‘From the chest! La, la, la, la!’ she sang, and asked Alfonso to follow.
‘La, la, la, la!’ he tweeted.
‘And you, Mr Lemmy!’ said Ms Fragranti.
‘I’m really not a singer,’ said Lemmy.
Ms Fragranti shook her head and very long neck. ‘If you are sitting here, you are taking part,’ she said.
‘La, la, la,’ he sang, and flushed red with embarrassment.
‘Wonderful, darling,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘Do you see? Everyone can sing. Now let us try singing and moving at the same time.’
Ms Fragranti started walking in circles about the room, and willed Lemmy and Alfonso to follow.
‘Do you hear the wind blow?’ she sang in her terrific warbling voice.
Lemmy and Alfonso repeated her line for line, and followed her about the room.
‘Do you hear the wind blow?’
‘Do you hear the wind blow?’
Ms Fragranti started flapping her wings, bouncing gently across the floor.
‘Let your wings open wide!’
‘Let your wings open wide!’
Alfonso flapped his wings, but while Lemmy thought he should point out that he didn’t have wings, he knew it was a waste of time. He flapped his arms instead.
‘Do you see the ground below?’
‘Do you see the ground below?’
Ms Fragranti was now taking longer leaps around the room, almost to the point of flying.
‘Take a leap, start to glide!’
‘Take a leap, start to glide!’
Lemmy was feeling incredibly silly, but Alfonso was definitely getting closer to flight. They circled round and round and suddenly Ms Fragranti called out, ‘FLY, LITTLE BIRD! FLY!’
Alfonso was caught up in the moment – so much so, that he almost did fly. He hovered for a few seconds but then came crashing down and rolled into a wall with a thud.
Ms Fragranti put her wings on her hips. ‘Darling,’ she said, ‘you were so close. I see lots of promise.’
Alfonso rubbed his dizzy head. ‘I see lots of stars,’ he said.
Ms Fragranti paced the room again. ‘It’s at times like this we must turn to ballet,’ she said, gracefully spinning a pirouette.
‘It’s not my thing,’ said Alfonso, ‘but if you think it’ll help?’
Lemmy decided it was time to leave.
‘I think you’d better focus on Alfonso,’ he said. ‘I’m just getting in the way here, and I have guests arriving soon.’
‘As you wish,’ said Ms Fragranti as Lemmy slipped out through the door. ‘Dear pigeon, what do you know of the pas de deux?’
‘Pas de what?’ said Alfonso.
‘A dance of two,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘You see, I propose we work on a lift that will mimic flight and take your thoughts away from your wings.’
And for the next two hours Alfonso Fastbeak was tossed, spun and thrown through the air like a white swan in a whirlwind.
8
A Grass Act
When the first busload of guests arrived, real excitement was felt around the hotel. All the talk was of food and which chef would win. Amid a crowd of animals, two cumbersome Highland cattle, with gigantic horns, blustered up to the front desk.
‘Welcome to Hotel Flamingo!’ said Lemmy. ‘Can I help?’
‘It’s Mrs Horntop,’ said one, who talked at speed and with urgency. ‘We’ve got two rooms booked. Here for the competition, of course, though we’re keen to try out the regional grasses, aren’t we, Norman?’
‘Aye. That’s right, Petal,’ said the other, drawing alongside, holding a guidebook in his hoof. ‘Says in here there’s at least two hundred.’
‘I suppose we must have a few,’ said Lemmy, whose knowledge of grass was not as good as it might have been. ‘I’ll just check the booking.’
‘We’re expecting to find some good tufts,’ continued Mrs Horntop. ‘It’s so underrated, isn’t it, grass?’
‘Aye, that’s right, Petal,’ said Norman.
‘Though if everyone ate it, there’d be none left for us, would there?’ said Mrs Horntop.
Lemmy smiled and continued to search for their booking as T. Bear struggled through the lobby, lost beneath towers of cases and bags. All Lemmy could see were his paws shuffling along.
‘Which rooms?’ pleaded T. Bear, wobbling under the weight of the luggage.
Lemmy thought on his feet and found two of the closest empty bedrooms on the first floor. He passed the keys to Mrs Horntop.
‘Rooms one-five-four and one-five-five,’ he said.
‘Thank you!’ said T. Bear. And he fell into the lift, narrowly missing Squeak the mouse, who was always ready to deliver guests to their rooms.
‘We’ve heard wonderful things about this hotel,’ said Mrs Horntop. ‘Excellent facilities. Wonderful service. Oh, we’re very excited –’
There was a strange little tap at the revolving door and Lemmy noticed an odd creature trying to get in.
‘Sorry to be rude,’ said Lemmy with relief, ‘but I must go and help that guest.’
‘Aye, you do that. Can’t keep a customer waiting!’ said Mrs Horntop. ‘Very friendly staff here, aren’t they, Norman? The reviews did say that, didn’t they?’
Lemmy hurried away and opened the revolving door.
‘Ah, thank you, kind sir!’ said a flamboyant coconut octopus, wearing a magnificent cavalier hat. The octopus was sitting inside a decorated coconut shell full of water, and he dragged himself inside the hotel. ‘I find these doors terrifically tricky. Perhaps if I grew some more tentacles I might manage better!’ He guffawed loudly.
‘Simon Suckerlot?’ asked Lemmy.
A slimy tentacle twisted out of the coconut shell to shake Lemmy’s paw. Lemmy obliged.
‘Sir, you have guessed my name right first time!’ quipped the octopus. ‘You must be a mind reader!’
Lemmy had guessed it correctly as it was the only octopus in the booking diary. But he decided to play along.
‘It is a skill of mine,’ he said, sneakily wiping off the slime from his paw.
‘Then I feel a game is afoot!’ declared Simon. ‘Why am I visiting your esteemed hotel, fine sir?’
Lemmy thought long and hard. ‘For the Battle of the Chefs?’ he asked.
‘You truly are a marvel,’ said Simon, laughing heartily.
Lemmy walked to the front desk.
‘Wonderful,’ said Simon. ‘And what a gorgeous hotel this is! I can’t believe I’ve n
ot visited before.’
Lemmy handed over a room key. ‘Thank you, sir! Any bags?’
‘I’m sure you know,’ said Simon playfully.
Lemmy could see that all the octopus needed was his shell.
‘None, sir!’ said Lemmy.
The octopus tapped his forehead with a tentacle. ‘How do you do it?!’ he said with a chuckle, and dragged himself off to the lift.
9
A Salty Problem
Stella was beaming with joy outside the hotel.
‘Just look at that!’ she said proudly, pointing to a line of battered old ovens that had seen better days. ‘It’s amazing what people throw out these days.’
Hilary and Anna were looking, and were unconvinced.
‘Where did you get them from?’ asked Anna.
‘Two were in a skip, and one on the side of the road,’ said Stella.
Hilary opened one of the oven doors and the handle fell off in her hand.
‘You expect me to clean up those old rustbuckets?’ said Hilary.
‘It just needs a bit of elbow grease, that’s all,’ said Stella.
‘We’ll soon have them shining.’
‘They wouldn’t shine even if they were sat on the sun,’ said Hilary.
‘I do sort of agree with Hilary,’ said Anna, scratching at the rusty hobs.
‘But finding these saved us a small fortune,’ said Stella.
Anna squeezed the broken handle back into place.
‘Then I love them!’ she said. ‘Let’s get them inside.’
Hilary rolled her eyes. ‘But how are we going to clean them?’ she asked. ‘I already have the ballroom to clean up, the new worktops to dust …’
The list could have gone on, but Anna stopped her.
‘I’ll help,’ she said, understanding that all good managers help out when the going gets tough.
‘You bet you will,’ said Hilary.
With T. Bear’s help they carried the ovens into the lobby, where a group of goats were wanting to check in.
