Hotel Flamingo- Fabulous Feast Read online

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  Hotel Flamingo

  Holiday Heatwave

  Carnival Caper

  Contents

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  Title Page

  Dedication

  Map

  1. The Guest from Above

  2. Some Big Ideas

  3. The Rivals

  4. Welcome to the Glitz

  5. Flying No More

  6. Plans are Afoot

  7. Testing Flight

  8. A Grass Act

  9. A Salty Problem

  10. Bathtime Blues

  11. A Cowpat on the Back

  12. To Greater Heights!

  13. A Pig in a Pickle

  14. Cow Confidential

  15. The Warm-Up

  16. Return of the Cat

  17. For Starters

  18. Just Desserts

  19. The Final Decision

  20. Up and Away!

  A Note From the Author

  Copyright

  For Cecily

  1

  The Guest from Above

  The snow was melting after a long, quiet winter, and the staff of Hotel Flamingo were determined to enjoy what little remained. There was always time for one last snowball fight.

  ‘Duck!’ yelled T. Bear.

  ‘Where?’ cried Anna, as a fresh ball of slushy ice knocked her hat off.

  She slammed her fist into her palm. ‘This means war!’ she grumbled.

  But before the battle could commence, Anna heard a crash and a clunk from the roof of the hotel.

  ‘Miss Anna!’ roared T. Bear, pointing upwards. ‘DUCK!’

  ‘I’m not falling for that again!’ said Anna.

  At that moment a bewildered and slightly frosty bird fell from the sky and crashed into the pavement, knocking Anna off her feet. T. Bear rushed over to help.

  ‘Miss Anna!’ he growled.

  ‘Ouch!’ said Anna.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ said the bird, ruffling his feathers. He pulled his flight goggles up on to his head and helped Anna off the ground.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, rubbing her arm. ‘But you’re no duck!’

  ‘You’re darn right,’ he said. ‘I’m a pigeon. The name’s Alfonso Fastbeak –’

  The pigeon looked suddenly dizzy.

  ‘– and I think I need to lie down.’

  •

  Alfonso was resting in a chair in the lobby, enjoying a hot cocoa. All the staff of Hotel Flamingo were huddled around him, listening to his tales of derring-do.

  ‘It was a triple loop with two forward rolls,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Followed by my signature move – the Impossible Twisting Backflip!’

  ‘Wow!’ said Lemmy in awe.

  ‘I know,’ said Alfonso. ‘I thought I had time to complete the routine. I managed the loops, but the backflip was a step too far and I ended up clanging into your roof.’

  ‘Amazing,’ said Eva. ‘And you survived all that?’

  ‘Sure was a close shave, ma’am,’ said Alfonso.

  ‘But why did you do it?’ asked Anna. ‘It sounds terrifying.’

  ‘Miss, I am a stunt pigeon,’ said Alfonso. ‘It’s what I do – or rather, it’s what I did.’

  He pulled out a poster from his pocket and handed it to Anna. It showed Alfonso spinning through the air.

  ‘I’ve got a record-breaking attempt planned for a week’s time at Lookout Point,’ he said. ‘I’ve been working up to it for years.’

  ‘You’ll manage it!’ said Lemmy. ‘I know you will.’

  Though his legs were wobbly, Alfonso found a way to his feet. He liked a grand gesture as much as he liked telling stories.

  ‘Up there, alone above the clouds,’ he said, raising his wings to the ceiling, ‘you think you can go on forever. You can spin, duck, fall and stall again and again, wowing crowds and audiences the world over. But, boy, this time my nerve gave out.’

  ‘It sounds to me like all you need is a good rest,’ said Anna.

  Alfonso slumped back into the chair. ‘I hope so, miss,’ he said.

  ‘I know so,’ said Anna.

  The pigeon flashed her a smile. ‘You lot are too kind,’ he said, taking in the lobby and hotel for the first time. ‘Gee whizz,’ he said, ‘and I think this hotel is possibly the most beautiful hotel I ever saw.’

  ‘You’re right there,’ growled T. Bear.

  ‘Say! Any chance of me taking a room while I recuperate?’ asked the pigeon. ‘It could be just what I need to get my wings flapping again.’

  Lemmy flicked through the bookings diary at the front desk. It was pretty much empty.

  ‘Absolutely, sir,’ he said. ‘How long will you be staying?’

  ‘Now that’s a question,’ replied the pigeon. ‘How many seeds are there in a birdfeeder?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Lemmy.

  ‘Then let’s leave it at that for now,’ said Alfonso.

  Lemmy handed over a key. ‘Room two-one-seven. Second floor. Need any help with your luggage?’

  Alfonso turned round to reveal a thin flight bag strapped to his back.

  ‘Flying aerobatics with these wings,’ he said with a smile, ‘a pigeon has to travel light!’

  Alfonso wobbled off towards the lift, testing his wings as he went.

  ‘Looks like we have our first guest of the season,’ said Anna with a smile.

  2

  Some Big Ideas

  The arrival of Alfonso Fastbeak highlighted to Anna that the winter season had been too quiet at Hotel Flamingo. There were always fewer guests during the colder months of the year, especially with so many animals in hibernation, but even the restaurant had seen a downturn this year.

  With the seasons changing and the weather warming, Anna decided to do something about it. She set about brainstorming ideas with T. Bear and Lemmy in her office.

  ‘What does the hotel have that no other hotel has?’ asked Anna.

  ‘A flamingo lampshade?’ said Lemmy.

  ‘We have a lot of those,’ agreed T. Bear.

  ‘And flamingo wallpaper,’ added Lemmy. ‘Not to mention the flamingo bed sheets and dressing gowns.’

  ‘I love my flamingo dressing gown,’ said T. Bear.

  Anna wished she’d never asked.

  ‘Apart from all the flamingos,’ she said. ‘What do we have that’s really, really special? Something that we can sell to guests to get them through our doors.’

  ‘We have a nice ballroom?’ suggested Lemmy.

  ‘And we have one of the best chefs in town,’ said T. Bear. ‘Even if she is scary.’

  Anna froze as an idea struck.

  ‘That’s it!’ she cried, punching the air. Some of Alfonso’s words had struck a chord with her. ‘We’ll prove to the world that she is the greatest chef in town.’

  ‘How?’ asked Lemmy.

  ‘We’ll have a competition!’ she said. ‘A Battle of the Chefs!’

  ‘Madame Le Pig throws a mean punch, that’s for sure,’ said T. Bear, who had experienced the chef’s anger first-hand.

  ‘I don’t mean like that,’ said Anna. ‘It can be a feast, and we can sell tickets!’

  ‘It could work,’ said T. Bear, thoughtfully.

  Anna ran straight out of the door, through the lobby, into the restaurant and banged on the kitchen door.

  ‘What is it?!’ squealed Madame Le Pig. ‘I am buttering my turnip tarts!’

  ‘I’ve had an amazing idea,’ said Anna, opening the door.

  Madame Le Pig stood ready to attack, a buttery brush raised in her trotter. ‘Do you not realise how delicate this task is?!’ she cried.

  ‘Hear me out,’ said Anna, only a little bit afraid. ‘It’s been quiet of late round here, hasn’t it?’

  Madame Le Pig shrugged. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And you are one of the most brilliant chefs in the world,’ said Anna, ‘and people should definitely be eating your food.’

  The chef looked happy at the way the conversation was heading.

  She sniffed. ‘I suppose so. Probably the best?’

  Anna breathed deeply. ‘Then how about a competition between chefs to prove once and for all that you are the best,’ said Anna.

  ‘My food would be compared to others?’ asked Le Pig.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Anna.

  ‘How?’ asked Madame Le Pig. ‘My food is incomparable!’

  ‘And that’s what we want to show,’ said Anna. ‘We could sell tickets, and guests could watch and try the food. It would be a fabulous feast!’

  ‘In front of an audience?’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘No. I do not see any benefit for me.’

  ‘But I see some for the hotel,’ said Anna. ‘Which would be good for all of us.’

  Madame Le Pig snorted and returned to buttering her turnip tarts.

  ‘So what do you think?’ asked Anna.

  The chef brushed the tarts back and forth in time with her grumpy snorts.

  ‘Who would judge this … competition?’

  ‘The guests,’ said Anna.

  ‘What do they know?’ she grumbled. ‘Most creatures do not know their fruit fork from their salad fork.’

  Anna certainly didn’t know the difference.

  ‘I’ll get a proper judge, then,’ said Anna. ‘I promise.’

  ‘And it will help the hotel?’

  ‘It will do wonders for us,’ said Anna.

  Madame Le Pig sniffed and ba
nged her trotter on the worktop. ‘Then I will do it,’ she said. ‘Now leave me to my work.’

  3

  The Rivals

  Anna spent the rest of the morning creating an advert that would interest every food lover in the land, then sent it off to the local paper. She hadn’t been so excited in ages. But now she was left with a problem. Anna needed competition – a Battle of the Chefs without any chefs would be no battle at all.

  ‘There are two that rival Madame Le Pig,’ whispered T. Bear. Even though Madame Le Pig was in the kitchen, the last thing he wanted was to enrage her even more, so he kept the volume down. ‘The Fat Cat Restaurant is world famous. Peston Crumbletart is more like an artist than a cook!’

  ‘Don’t forget Laurence Toot-Toot at the Glitz,’ added Lemmy. ‘I saw him on TV once. Toot-Toot is unforgettable.’

  Anna’s face soured. ‘The Glitz?’

  Owned by a lion called Mr Ruffian, the Glitz was Hotel Flamingo’s biggest competitor and a thorn in Anna’s side.

  ‘If you want this to be a proper competition,’ said T. Bear, ‘Toot-Toot’s one of the best.’

  ‘How will I get him to come?’ asked Anna.

  ‘You’ll have to go there and ask,’ said T. Bear.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Anna. The Glitz was the last place she wanted to visit. ‘What if I bump into Mr Ruffian?’

  ‘I could come with you,’ said T. Bear. ‘It’s mighty quiet round here right now.’

  Anna was already having to fight off her nerves at the prospect of seeing the lion, but she knew she had to be strong.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘If Lemmy can keep charge of the hotel without falling asleep?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Lemmy with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Then let’s get going.’

  •

  The Fat Cat Restaurant was situated in the bustling heart of the Le Chat Shopping Mall. Anna and T. Bear rang the bell and waited.

  ‘Prepare yourself,’ said T. Bear. ‘He’s won every award going and he’s known to be full of himself.’

  A giant shadowy shape appeared behind the darkened window. The lock turned and the door opened. Peston Crumbletart, as big as his reputation, with thick ginger fur, fierce eyes and long twizzly whiskers, stood waiting.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘We’re shut.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Anna. ‘I’m here from Hotel Flamingo.’

  Peston growled a little. ‘That crumbling old hotel on Animal Boulevard?’ he said. ‘I’m surprised it’s not been shut down.’

  ‘That’s us,’ said Anna. ‘Can we come in? I have a proposition for you.’

  ‘I don’t let competitors inside,’ said the cat.

  ‘I think you’ll be interested in this,’ said Anna.

  Peston twitched his nose and ushered them through with a flick of his paw.

  The Fat Cat Restaurant looked every bit the fancy restaurant, with gleaming white tiles on the floor, expensive abstract paintings on every wall and crisp white tablecloths on the tables. Anna was in awe of how clean and tidy it was. Not even Hilary Hippo could get their hotel this tidy.

  ‘What are you after?’ asked Peston, twirling his whiskers.

  ‘We’re organising a competition,’ said Anna, ‘for all the best chefs on Animal Boulevard. We want to find out who is the greatest of all!’

  ‘I am the greatest chef on Animal Boulevard,’ said Peston. ‘There is no competition.’

  ‘Yes. While that may be true,’ said Anna, ‘Madame Le Pig believes that she is also the best.’

  Peston hissed a laugh. ‘She’s dreaming,’ he said.

  ‘But she wants an opportunity to prove it,’ said Anna.

  ‘I don’t need to prove anything,’ said Peston. ‘I am the best.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like the chance to be crowned the greatest chef on Animal Boulevard in front of an adoring audience?’ asked Anna.

  Peston scratched his chin. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘I do like winning things.’

  Anna held out her hand for Peston to shake. ‘Do we have a deal?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed the cat. ‘Now go away.’

  ‘I’ll send you the details once they’re agreed!’ said Anna, hurrying out past a shelf of medals and award statues.

  ‘You do that,’ growled Peston, starting to clean his ears.

  4

  Welcome to the Glitz

  Anna and T. Bear walked up the long path over the headland to the Glitz. Ever since Anna had taken over Hotel Flamingo, the Glitz’s owner Mr Ruffian had tried to make life unbearable for her. But with the sound of crashing waves filling the air, and its stunning views, even Anna had to admit it stood in the most wonderful location.

  Unfortunately, though, she didn’t feel the same about the gigantic white hotel. ‘It’s not pretty, is it?’

  ‘Nothing compares to Hotel Flamingo, miss,’ said T. Bear.

  The Glitz’s opulent golden doorway and pristine white walls couldn’t have been more unwelcoming, and Anna shivered with worry as she stood ready to go in.

  A surly bulldog security guard looked them up and down.

  ‘In you go,’ he said.

  ‘Right then,’ she replied, taking a deep breath.

  The polished doors opened out into a gigantic golden lobby that smacked of wealth. Statues of proud lions sat upon plinths, and thin viaducts sent water flowing around the room, splashing down into pools filled with seaweed, shells and oysters.

  Anna walked up to the golden reception desk and tapped the bell. Mr Ruffian surprised her by stepping out from behind a door. She’d thought someone else would have been on the desk. The lion looked like a thundercloud ready to explode.

  ‘Ms Anna Dupont. This is a surprise,’ he growled, tapping his huge claws against the desk.

  Anna trembled a little, but pulled herself together.

  ‘Mr Ruffian,’ she said, ‘I would like to speak to your chef, Mr Toot-Toot.’

  ‘Wanting to steal my staff?’ he said.

  ‘Heavens, no,’ said Anna, trying to smile. ‘We are having a competition to crown the greatest chef on Animal Boulevard. I thought Mr Toot-Toot would like to take part.’

  ‘There doesn’t need to be a competition,’ said Mr Ruffian. ‘My chef is clearly the greatest there is.’

  ‘That’s not what Peston Crumbletart thinks,’ said Anna.

  ‘That know-it-all is on board?’

  ‘He is,’ said Anna.

  Mr Ruffian growled and picked up his phone. He held up his paw to Anna.

  ‘Laurence. Come to the front desk,’ he muttered.

  Anna heard a far-off door slam, and then after a few seconds a little hedgehog in a black chef’s outfit paced across the gigantic lobby followed by the divine smell of crushed spices.

  ‘My pickled black beans are frying,’ said Laurence Toot-Toot grumpily. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Are you the best chef on Animal Boulevard?’ asked Mr Ruffian.

  The hedgehog spat at his feet. ‘Are Toot-Toot’s spines sharp?’ he sneered.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Mr Ruffian. ‘Still, Hotel Flamingo is running a competition to prove who is the greatest chef in town.’

  ‘Hotel Flamingo?’ said Toot-Toot. ‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in that dump.’

  ‘Hey!’ snarled T. Bear. ‘Watch your words.’

  Toot-Toot showed no fear.

  ‘Toot-Toot is the best,’ he said confidently. ‘There is no one better.’

  ‘That’s not what Madame Le Pig or Peston Crumbletart thinks,’ said Anna.

  ‘Le Pig? Her food does not rival mine. Crumbletart? He shows promise, but that is all.’

  ‘Well, imagine if they’re crowned the greatest in town, simply because you didn’t turn up,’ said Anna.

  ‘Because you were too scared,’ added T. Bear.

  ‘Toot-Toot is never scared,’ snapped the hedgehog.

  Mr Ruffian was starting to see the opportunity in the chef’s rivalry.

  ‘I suppose it could be good for the hotel and our restaurant,’ he said.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Anna.

  The hedgehog’s spines rippled across his back. ‘Fine. Then Toot-Toot will take part,’ he said. ‘And Toot-Toot shall win.’

  With that, the hedgehog spat at his feet and hurried back to his kitchen.

  ‘Miss Dupont,’ said Mr Ruffian, ‘even though your hotel will come out badly in all this, I must applaud your ideas.’