by Tim Harris
‘Why didn’t I think of doing that?’ he said, rubbing his bottom.
‘Because you don’t think,’ said the girl. ‘That’s my job, remember? You cause the problems, I fix the problems. Now, where is that runaway goose of yours?’
‘Honk!’
‘Over that way!’
The girl laughed again, then took her friend by the hand and they disappeared into the forest at the edge of the clearing.
Chegwin crunched some more numbers that night. It was becoming a bit of a habit. He stayed up late in his office, adding up booking payments and restaurant profits, then subtracting rocket fuel bills and exuberant milk costs. He had also been hit with a larger than usual electricity bill. Barry’s use of plug-in tools on the rocket project had chewed through a lot of power. Chegwin definitely couldn’t afford to botch up another dairy order, and he’d have to keep a close eye on fuel costs. The latest figures told him the hotel had only three weeks left before the money ran out.
He needed more bookings, fast. He had to save those jobs. The importance of kindness had been drilled into him at a young age, and he was committed to the task.
Chegwin’s train of thought was only interrupted when Dean knocked on the door. ‘Hi, Chegwin.’
‘Come in.’
The assistant caretaker sat opposite Chegwin and fidgeted with his nails. He seemed nervous.
‘Is everything okay?’
Dean wiped his brow. ‘It’s my credit card. I had to pay for an unexpected engine repair on my jetski and I’ve run up a debt.’
The word ‘debt’ stabbed at Chegwin. ‘Oh, that’s not good … How can I help?’
‘I need an advance on my pay. It would mean the world to me.’
The world. Chegwin was off in thought …
Katie had taught him that the world worked by rotating around the sun, speeding through space like a giant baseball.
He liked baseball. He loved the way the batters swung through the ball, hitting it far into the crowd. The home team’s theme song would play on the stadium organ.
Organs. They were like pianos but bigger and louder. Though he wasn’t sure if their keys were made out of ivory or plastic. He hoped it wasn’t ivory, because he had heard some horrible stories about poaching. Elephants were endangered and –
‘Thanks, Chegwin,’ said Dean. ‘I really appreciate it.’
The assistant caretaker picked up a small piece of paper and left the office.
Chegwin stared down at his desk. There was a cheque book open and he could see his signature scribbled on the latest page.
‘What have I done?’
It was more a case of what the boy hadn’t done – listen. While Dean was opening up to the young manager, telling him all about the major repairs on his jetski and the deposit he needed for an overseas holiday, Chegwin had given in to the imaginative side of his brain. He had unwittingly signed an advance pay cheque for three-thousand dollars.
Chegwin tried to be positive. ‘I would have signed it anyway,’ he said to himself. ‘Mum and Dad taught me to always help others.’
But would his parents have told him to use up a large chunk of the budget willy-nilly?
Probably not.
Things were becoming desperate. Chegwin knew he only had one idea left that he could count on. He closed his eyes, unleashed the creative side of his brain once more, and envisioned his dream for the restaurant. It would most definitely eat into the remaining budget, but it was so brilliant it could create local – maybe even national – headlines for Toffle Towers. He was convinced it was worth the risk of using every last dollar. It would guarantee the long-term employment of his staff.
Chegwin walked across the back lawn to his bedroom in the staffing quarters. He noticed the light was on in his parents’ room, which was unusual for this time of night. They were disciplined early risers.
He could hear their voices inside and stopped next to the window.
‘He’s doing such a wonderful job with the hotel,’ said Mr Toffle.
‘Yes, our sweet boy is learning so quickly – even from his mistakes,’ replied Mrs Toffle. ‘The milkshake baths were a tremendous idea.’
Chegwin’s stomach dropped. They had no idea he had burned through almost all of the money already.
‘But we’ll have to tell him sooner or later,’ said Mr Toffle. ‘We can’t keep sneaking into the right wing unnoticed. He’s too clever not to pick up on things eventually.’
Mrs Toffle lowered her voice. ‘Do you think telling him now is a good idea?’
Chegwin’s heart sped up. What was this all about? Why were they sneaking into the right wing? What did they need to tell him?
He crept closer to the window.
‘If I were in his shoes, I’d want to know,’ said Mr Toffle.
There was a pause. Chegwin could just make out his mother’s soft voice. ‘You promised me we wouldn’t tell him until the time was right. I don’t think he’s ready to hear the news. Not yet. Not when running the hotel is taking up so much of his concentration.’
There was another long silence.
‘You’re right,’ said Mr Toffle quietly. ‘I did make that promise. Chegwin doesn’t need to know about his brother.’
Chegwin woke suddenly. It was still dark outside, but the squawks of birds in the nearby forest told him the sun was about to poke its nose over the Gladberry River.
A wretched feeling rekindled in his gut.
Secrets.
Lies.
His parents had been keeping something from him and it felt as though they had betrayed him. How could they not tell him he had a brother? They were the sort of parents who shared everything with him – even the gastro bug last winter. Why were they keeping secrets now?
Thinking about it made Chegwin’s eyes all hot and prickly again. The night before, he had wanted to crash through their bedroom window and scream. And then apologise for smashing the glass. He wanted to bang his fists against their chests and demand an explanation. And then excuse himself for causing a scene. He could have asked them for a loan for the hotel while he was at it … But, instead of yelling, Chegwin had turned quietly and run back to his room, where he cried himself to sleep.
He sat up in bed and stretched. The night’s sleep had proved somewhat restful for his thoughts. He had once read that there was great wisdom in giving things time. Perhaps this was the best approach for his situation now.
Chegwin got dressed and styled his curly blond hair. Then he walked down the long pebble driveway towards the main road to town. Perhaps an hour or two away from the hotel would do him some good.
‘What are you doing up so early?’
The voice made Chegwin start. He turned to see Pepper Perry – dressed in shorts and a T-shirt – stretching her leg against the gate of the hotel.
‘I’m heading into Alandale,’ said Chegwin.
‘Me too. I head down at six o’clock every morning. Wanna walk together?’
The sight of Pepper’s fluoro headband put a smile on Chegwin’s face. Her dark ponytail had again failed to capture all of her hair, and she tucked the loose strands behind her ears. ‘Sure,’ he said.
‘Tell me,’ said Pepper, as the pair started down the road, ‘why do you always mismatch your buttons and buttonholes?’
The question was a welcome distraction and pushed his worries to the back of his mind. ‘I like it. I find you can tell a lot about someone by the way they react to your shirt.’
‘Well, I like it too,’ said Pepper. ‘It makes you, you.’
After a moment Chegwin asked, ‘So how did you come to work at Toffle Towers?’
‘I’ve always loved cooking. Only thing I was ever good at. Dad said if I could find work when I was sixteen, he’d let me leave school, and I was lucky enough to end up with a job at Toffle Towers. Terrence was great. He treated his staff like friends and he really took me under his wing. You look just like him, you know.’
Friends.
Chegwi
n would have loved to ask Pepper what it was like having friends, but he needed to understand more about the hotel and its staff. ‘So why did you stay if you knew the money was running out?’
Pepper stopped walking and jabbed Chegwin lightly on the shoulder. ‘Loyalty, man. Never leave something until you’ve seen it all the way through.’
Chegwin had to agree with this. Well, everything apart from the jabbing business. It was how he felt about the hotel. Something about the limestone walls had made him fall in love with the place and he was determined to stick around to the end – whenever that might be.
‘I’ve gotta give it to you,’ said Pepper. ‘The shuttle bus idea was brilliant. The milkshake baths too. Great way to think outside the box and bring this place into the twenty-first century. You should have seen Lawrence’s face when he told me we had guests.’
‘Thanks,’ said Chegwin. Pepper had nudged the conversation in a helpful direction. Now he had the chance to tell her about his best idea yet. ‘That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you something about the restaurant.’
‘Hang on,’ said Pepper, ‘we’re almost here.’
‘Almost where?’
The wiry teen suddenly leapt over a wooden fence and, after looking around to make sure nobody else was watching, crept over to a cluster of low-lying ferns. She parted the green leaves, revealing a tree stump.
‘What is it?’ said Chegwin.
‘Ssshhh.’
Pepper reached into the stump and pulled out a thick wad of money. She slipped two notes into the pocket of her shorts, then carefully returned the bundle to the stump, before joining Chegwin back on the road.
‘Sorry, just had to make sure nobody saw me.’
‘But I saw you,’ said Chegwin, who had never seen such a thick pile of cash before. The hotel could use money like that.
Pepper poked him in the arm again as they continued back down the road. ‘Trust, man. I know you won’t touch it.’
Trust.
Chegwin’s bones felt heavy as he was reminded of his parents.
‘I also know you won’t tell anyone about the money,’ said Pepper. ‘It’s most of my dad’s life savings. He gave it to me to help get me started in life – to buy a car when I’m old enough. But I stop by and take a little bit each morning, just enough so I can purchase a couple of things in town.’
‘Where’s your dad now?’ asked Chegwin.
‘He’s living up north. I’m hoping to visit him next winter. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I miss him a lot …’
The pair walked in silence alongside the river until they reached the first of Alandale’s specialist shops – the butcher.
‘Before we go inside,’ said Pepper, ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What is it?’ said Chegwin.
‘Tongue twisters.’
‘Huh?’
Pepper laughed, then pushed open the butcher’s door. ‘Morning, Ryan.’
‘The one and only Pepper Perry,’ replied the man behind the counter. He was a large fellow, having taken a liking to caramel donuts at an early age, and he had a friendly smile. ‘I’ve got some quality filet mignons today.’
‘Exactly what I was after.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like?’
Pepper winked at Chegwin before answering. ‘Sausages, please.’
‘How many?’
‘Six.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Make them small.’
Pepper winked at Chegwin again. She was biting her lip, trying not to laugh, but he still had no idea what she was up to.
Ryan began working on the sausages. ‘What flavour would you like, Pepper?’
‘Saucy.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Scented.’
‘Is that all for the order?’
‘Something to sweeten them up.’ Pepper was holding her sides, desperately trying not to burst into laughter. ‘Oh, and some sprinkles of spice.’
Chegwin looked at Ryan and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Could you please clarify the order for me, Ryan?’ said Pepper.
The butcher stopped grinding the meat. ‘Sure. You want six small, saucy, s-scented, sweet sausages s-s-sprinkled with sp-sp-sp …’
Pepper threw her head back and roared with laughter. ‘You’ve been tongue twisted!’
Ryan went back to the grinding. ‘Oh, I see. Very funny, miss.’
Pepper leaned over and whispered in Chegwin’s ear. ‘Bet you can’t beat that.’
Ryan handed the young chef her order, and in turn she passed him one of her notes. ‘Keep the change.’
‘You’re a sweetheart, Pepper.’
She collected her parcel of steak and sausages and opened the door for Chegwin. ‘After you, boss.’
They continued along the row of shops. The tourists were yet to file in and Chegwin enjoyed the sleepy feel of the town.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Hang on, why are you using your money? You should have put the order on the hotel’s account.’
Chegwin could feel himself tensing up as he said this. The budget was stretched thin already, but it was important to be fair – his parents had always taught him this. He didn’t want Pepper spending her inheritance.
Pepper shrugged her shoulders as if it were obvious. ‘Savings, man. I don’t want the hotel to run out of money, so I’d rather use mine.’
‘That meat cost a lot,’ said Chegwin. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, everything is a bit more expensive in Alandale because it’s a small tourist town, but I also want to support their businesses. Those big delivery companies may be cheaper, but the quality doesn’t come close.’
‘How long have you been dipping into your dad’s savings?’ asked Chegwin.
‘I dunno. Since I got here, I suppose. I knew things were bad with the hotel when I first arrived.’
The next stop was the delicatessen.
‘Morning, Mr Borrelli.’
‘Morning, Pepper. What would you like today?’ The man behind the counter waved his arms across the display, proudly showing off his latest imports. His thin moustache flickered with expectation. It was clear he took pride in his job.
Pepper pointed to the cheeses, then to Chegwin. ‘My friend here would like to order something.’
‘Would I?’ said Chegwin.
Pepper elbowed him and raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh … Yes, that’s right,’ said Chegwin, catching on. ‘Hmm, what would I like?’
Mr Borrelli waited patiently.
‘Okay, I think I have it,’ said Chegwin. ‘Which is the cheapest cheese?’
‘This one,’ said Mr Borrelli. He pointed to a large block at the end of the display.
‘Yes, I’d like some cheddar.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, please cut it into a chunk.’
‘Is that all for today?’
‘Make sure it’s chewy and has chilli.’
Mr Borrelli got to work.
‘Oh, and cherries,’ said Chegwin. ‘It must have cherries.’
Pepper was trying hard to control her breathing. ‘You’re doing well,’ she whispered.
‘Can you confirm the order?’ said Chegwin.
Mr Borrelli’s moustache twitched. ‘You would like a chunk of cheap chewy cheddar ch-cheese with chilli and ch-ch-ch …’
Chegwin burst out laughing. ‘You’ve been tongue twisted!’ He gave Pepper a high five.
‘Oh, very funny,’ said Mr Borrelli, shaking his head.
Once Chegwin had paid for the cheese, the pair walked back outside.
‘Hey, it’s that kid from the hotel.’
Chegwin turned to see the skinny red-haired boy he had bumped into at the hotel. He was standing next to a white goose and was wiping down one of the tables at a cafe across the street. The girl was with him too. Chegwin recognised her dark hair.
She burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, it’s the hotel man
ager! Funniest thing I ever heard!’
‘Honk!’
The goose snapped its beak in Chegwin’s direction.
‘Yeah, you tell him, Doc,’ said the girl.
‘Leave the manager alone,’ mocked the boy. ‘He has important hotel work to do.’
The girl smirked. ‘Ooh, be careful. He might fire us!’
Pepper clenched her fists. ‘Are they making fun of you?’
‘It’s okay,’ said Chegwin. ‘I have an idea.’
In his former life as a schoolboy – a life he was pleased to have left behind when he moved to Alandale – Chegwin had endured a lot of teasing at the hands of other children. He was determined not to let it happen again now.
He pulled out his mobile phone and waved it at the girl and boy. ‘This proves I’m the boss.’
The girl pulled out her phone and waved it back. ‘And this proves I’m president of the world!’
‘Yeah,’ said the red-haired boy, wanting to get it on the action. He hastily retrieved his own phone from his pocket. ‘And this proves I’m a fish.’
The girl blinked a few times. ‘That doesn’t really make sense.’
‘Honk!’ said the goose.
Eager to make his point, Chegwin quickly typed a message. ‘All I have to do is push a button and you’ll see.’
‘Go on then,’ said the girl, ‘push the button.’
Chegwin did.
The girl looked around, as if half expecting something to blow up. When nothing did, she howled with laughter again.
‘He’s a strange one,’ said the boy, getting back to work cleaning the table.
‘You’re officially out of your mind,’ said the girl.
‘Just wait,’ said Chegwin.
Pepper whispered under her breath. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
Chegwin looked at his phone. ‘Any second now.’
‘You’ve lost your marbles,’ called the girl. ‘Claiming you’re the boss of a hotel is one thing, but pointlessly waving your phone around is –’
The rumble of six small rocket engines shook the ground. The Toffle Towers shuttle bus landed in a puddle on the road and splashed dirty water all over the table the boy was wiping.
