Alice-Miranda at Sea Page 5

  ‘What do you mean?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Well, Alex didn’t exactly seem pleased to see us and I think Mr Winterstone hates us. And they’ve both got weird hair.’

  ‘That’s silly. I’m sure Mr Alex was just busy and Mr Winterstone is perfectly lovely. I don’t think many children come on board the Octavia. Maybe the staff just aren’t used to having kids around,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  The children had exited the ballroom through a different door from the one they had gone in and found themselves in yet another unfamiliar passageway.

  ‘What do you think’s through there?’ Millie pointed at a door she hoped would lead them back upstairs.

  ‘Who knows? But there’s no harm in looking.’ Alice-Miranda led the group through the heavy metal door. A delicious smell wafted in the air, teasing the group’s grumbling stomachs.

  ‘I think we must be somewhere near the kitchen,’ said Jacinta.

  ‘Genius.’ Lucas rolled his eyes. Jacinta thumped him gently on the arm in response.

  ‘Well, who’s hungry?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘Maybe we can get something to eat.’

  The children followed a passageway lined on either side with giant refrigerators.

  A young man with glassy eyes appeared from inside one of the cool rooms, carrying a box of lettuce. He didn’t speak but pushed his way past the children through a clear plastic flap at the end of the corridor. The children could see into a galley kitchen, where several men were handling large knives and one appeared to be using a blowtorch.

  ‘It looks a bit crazy in there,’ said Sep. He didn’t like the thought of interrupting the chefs while they were busy and armed.

  ‘Kitchens are always like that,’ Alice-Miranda reassured him. ‘We can just say hello and then perhaps someone can help us find our way back upstairs again.’

  Alice-Miranda poked her head around the plastic flap. ‘Hello,’ she called. But no one paid her the slightest bit of attention. She pushed her way into the kitchen and motioned for her friends to follow.

  Once inside, the children could see they were standing in a narrow passageway adjacent to the main part of the kitchen. Two men were furiously chopping rhubarb while another, the one with the blowtorch, was putting the finishing touches to some crème brûlées.

  The children might as well have been invisible.

  ‘These guys are really focused.’ Lucas looked around and wondered for a moment if the chefs were actually human.

  ‘Yes. Are you sure they’re not robots?’ Jacinta giggled.

  ‘Mind reader.’ Lucas grinned – and Jacinta melted.

  Further along, the passageway opened up into a full commercial kitchen – enormous by any standards and at least twice the size of Mrs Smith’s space at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale.

  Alice-Miranda counted over twenty men, resplendent in their white uniforms and mushroom-shaped hats, all busily chopping and braising and whipping – apparently oblivious to their presence. It was a strange scene indeed. Alice-Miranda had been a guest in many a large kitchen in her seven and three-quarter years, but never had she seen anything quite like this.

  She had a strange feeling about this place – and Alice-Miranda was usually right about her strange feelings. Something wasn’t right. There was no noise, other than the sound of utensils.

  ‘You need to go,’ a tiny voice whispered. Alice-Miranda looked around to see who had spoken.

  ‘Hello.’ She smiled at a young man who was chopping onions. ‘My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you’

  The chef looked at her and shook his head ever so slightly. ‘Miss, you must go – and take your friends with you,’ he spoke through gritted teeth.

  Alice-Miranda glanced around the room. There didn’t seem to be anyone in charge, which she thought very strange. There was always a head chef. They were often renowned for their bad tempers, but Alice-Miranda had met enough of them to know that they were mostly pussycats outside the kitchen. After all, she reasoned, cooking for hundreds of guests was probably about one of the most stressful jobs anyone could have.

  ‘Alice-Miranda, maybe we should just leave?’ Millie suggested. She noticed that the longer they stayed, the redder the faces on the chefs became, as though the children’s mere presence was raising the temperature in the room.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Alice-Miranda assured her friend. She turned to address the young chef who was still chopping onions. ‘Excuse me, sir, can you tell us who is in charge?’

  The man sniffed. Moisture which had dammed in the corners of his eyes spilled over, streaming down his tanned cheeks.

  ‘Are you all right?’ She reached into her pocket and handed him a clean tissue.

  He motioned at the onions on the bench.

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘I don’t like chopping onions either. Mrs Oliver is working on a “no tears” variety at the moment but I don’t know if she’s made much progress yet.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Lucas directed.

  All at once there was a whooshing noise, like an approaching freight train. The chefs, already working at a rate of knots, seemed to flick their speed dials to ‘overdrive’.

  Into the kitchen blew a tornado, through which a veritable giant emerged. At least six feet five inches tall, with shoulders the width of a doorway, a chiselled jaw, jet-black hair and eyes that looked like they could pierce steel, he surveyed the activity in front of him and proceeded to explode.

  ‘What iz that?’ the titan roared at one young fellow who was whipping cream. His forefinger, the size of a pork sausage, plunged into the vat of frothy white liquid and flew back into his open mouth. ‘That . . . iz contaminated.’ He picked up the bowl and promptly upended it on the young man’s head.

  He moved along the line. ‘And what are those?’ he growled. The chef gulped. ‘Well? Tell me!’ the giant commanded.

  ‘Prawns, chef,’ the young man squeaked as he stared at a tub full of plump orange crustaceans.

  ‘Who bring prawns on board ship? I have list of banned foods. The Queen Georgiana iz allergic to all shellfish and crustaceans. You want me to kill Queen? Do you? Do you?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, chef,’ the young man trembled.

  ‘Well, take them and throw them overboard!’

  By now Millie, Jacinta, Lucas and Sep had inched backwards around the corner into the narrow passageway where they were willing themselves to be invisible. Only Alice-Miranda stayed put.

  The tyrant paced among the cooks, who had begun to resemble a row of trembling jellies.

  ‘That fish . . .’ he roared, then picked up a large boning knife, plunging it into the chopping board and just missing the creature’s head . . . ‘iz dead!’

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ Lucas smirked. The other children giggled.

  ‘What waz that?’ the giant bellowed. ‘Who iz in my kitchen?’

  ‘Isn’t that line from a fairytale?’ Millie whispered.

  ‘Yes – and didn’t those kids end up in an oven?’ Sep gulped.

  Alice-Miranda strode towards the colossus. ‘Hello, my name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  ‘She’s done for.’ Lucas covered his eyes as his cousin-to-be reached out her tiny hand.

  ‘Who said that?’ the giant replied.

  ‘Me, sir. Down here. You see, you’re ever so tall and I’m really quite tiny so it would help if you looked down,’ Alice-Miranda suggested.

  The giant lowered his eyes. He raised his left paw to his forehead.

  ‘Oh no! He’s going to crush her,’ Millie squeaked.

  Then he ran his fingers slowly through his hair.

  ‘What you doing in my kitchen?’ he dema
nded.

  ‘Aunty Gee gave us permission to have a look around the ship and, well, we got a little bit lost and that’s when we found the kitchen. Do you know from out in that corridor it smells like roasting meat and baking potatoes and the best of Mrs Oliver’s cakes all rolled into one? My stomach almost did a backflip. I’m rather hungry after all our exploring. But I must say, sir, you have the quietest kitchen I’ve ever been in. Your chefs are very attentive.’

  ‘Aunty Gee, you zay she gave you run of ship. Who is Gee?’ He looked perplexed.

  ‘Oh, you probably know her as Queen Georgiana. But I call her Aunty Gee. She’s Mummy’s and Aunt Charlotte’s godmother and my Granny Valentina’s best friend since nursery school,’ Alice-Miranda explained.

  ‘The Queen Georgiana, she iz your aunt?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, not really, not by blood, but that doesn’t matter because I adore her just the same – and I think she’s quite fond of Mummy and Aunt Charlotte and me, too.’

  The giant looked around. The other chefs had slowed down considerably and were glimpsing the action from the corners of their eyes.

  ‘Get on with it!’ he roared.

  The chefs went back to their whisking and whipping and whizzing quick-smart.

  ‘And you are close to Queen?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, very close. We almost always see her at Christmas and for birthdays,’ Alice-Miranda prattled. ‘And another couple of times at least throughout the year. I didn’t catch your name, sir,’ Alice-Miranda finished, gazing up at him.

  ‘I am Vladimir.’ He raised his nose in the air and stood like a proud rooster.

  ‘Do you have a surname, Mr Vladimir?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  He stepped back. ‘No, no surname. I don’t need one.’

  Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Well then, I’ll call you Chef Vladimir. Now tell me, that accent of yours, it’s rather lovely. Is it Russian, by any chance?’

  Vladimir gazed at this tiny child with her cascading chocolate curls and eyes as big as saucers and wondered if she was real.

  ‘Yez, I am Rrrrusky and prrroud,’ he replied with perfect rolling Rs.

  The other children, hearing the exchange, began to emerge from their hiding spot.

  ‘And who are you?’ Vladimir demanded as he caught sight of the foursome. His tone sent Jacinta scurrying behind Millie.

  ‘These are my good friends, Millie, Jacinta, Lucas and Septimus, but he prefers Sep.’ Alice-Miranda waved her hand, urging them forward.

  ‘Well, get out of my kitchen. No children allowed. Out!’

  Millie, Jacinta, Sep and Lucas were gone before he’d finished his bellowing. Only Alice-Miranda stayed behind.

  ‘I am looking forward to eating your delicious food, Chef Vladimir. Perhaps we’ll see you again tomorrow.’ She waved and skipped off to find her friends.

  Vladimir thumped his plate-sized fist onto the steel bench. No one had told him there would be children on board. In his opinion children were akin to rats: dirty, smelly little troublemakers. There was no doubt that the world would be better off without them. He would need to make sure that this one, who seemed rather persistent, would not cause any problems and upset his grand plans for the week.

  'I was so scared.’ Jacinta breathed deeply when the children were safely out of the kitchen and back on deck.

  ‘Vladimir certainly has an interesting management style,’ Sep observed.

  ‘Well I’m sure he’s a wonderful chef,’ Alice-Miranda enthused. ‘There were some delicious smells in that kitchen.’

  ‘We thought he was going to squish you under his hairy paw,’ said Millie, ‘and then roast us all in the ovens and serve us for dinner tonight.’

  The children looked at each other and gulped. Only Alice-Miranda smiled.

  ‘Hello.’ Cecelia walked over and interrupted the group. ‘So where have you lot been?’

  ‘Hello Mummy. We’ve had the most wonderful afternoon exploring the ship. We saw the pool and the library and the ballroom and the kitchen,’ Alice-Miranda went on.

  ‘And we met the scariest chef in the world,’ Jacinta added.

  ‘Mr Rodgers?’ Cecelia raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ve known him since I was ten years old. He doesn’t have a frightening bone in his body. You know his nickname is Jolly.’

  ‘Well this man’s name certainly isn’t Jolly. It’s Vladimir and he’s a giant and especially fierce with his staff,’ Jacinta went on.

  Cecelia Highton-Smith called to her sister Charlotte, who was standing nearby talking with Daisy and Granny Bert.

  ‘Cha, excuse me, darling, what happened to Mr Rodgers?’

  ‘Oh, poor fellow has a broken leg. It was a dreadful accident – a hit-and-run on the high street a few weeks ago. Admiral Harding said Mr Rodgers simply didn’t see the car. I can’t believe the driver didn’t stop – poor man could have been killed. He wanted to do the wedding but I told Aunty Gee that would be terribly unfair. I couldn’t imagine him hopping about down there on crutches. So Lawrence organised another chef through a friend of his. The man’s a bit of a celebrity in Russia – stunning food but not known for his patience. Apparently he’s been dying to cook for Aunty Gee for ages – increase his prestige at home and all. He insisted on bringing some of his own team, too.’

  ‘We met him a little while ago,’ Alice-Miranda piped up.

  ‘And you’re right about him being impatient. His staff are terrified of him,’ Lucas added.

  ‘I’m sure he’s not as bad as all that,’ Alice-Miranda insisted. ‘Chefs are just focused, that’s all.’

  Cecelia glanced up and caught sight of Millie’s mother and father talking with Mrs Oliver and Ambrose.

  ‘Did you see your parents, Jacinta?’ Cecelia asked. She wondered where on earth they could have got to. Everyone else had managed to make it up on deck to push off and since then most of the guests had been milling about chatting, taking tea and having a lovely catch-up.

  ‘No,’ Jacinta frowned.

  ‘Never mind, they’re probably just taking a while to get settled. I’m sure they’ll be up shortly,’ Cecelia said reassuringly. She secretly wondered if she’d done the right thing inviting them. It didn’t seem fair that Millie should have her family on board when Jacinta would have no one. Cecelia had been surprised when she received word (at the very last minute) that the Headlington-Bears would attend and had requested two suites. But at least Jacinta would get to spend some time with them.

  When the children hadn’t found Ambrosia by the pool, Jacinta had decided not to worry about her mother and father. She had no idea what they’d talk about when she did see them. Of course Charlotte and Lawrence were terribly kind inviting her parents, but really it would have suited her just as well if they’d stayed away. She had a sinking feeling that they most likely only agreed to come because of Lawrence and the possibility of meeting some of his movie star friends.

  The late afternoon sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. The children were keen to test the pool before dark and had decided on their way back from the kitchen to see if they might have a swim before nightfall.

  Lucas asked Charlotte if that was all right.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘Just don’t be late for dinner.’

  ‘Okay, let’s meet at the pool in ten minutes,’ Jacinta instructed as the children headed to their suites to get changed.

  ‘All right, but I might be a little longer,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘There’s something I need to do first.’

  Alice-Miranda marched off to the bridge to see if Admiral Harding could tell her which suite Jacinta’s parents were staying in. She was keen to find them and see if everything was all right.

  ‘Hello,’ she called and knocked.

  She could hear voices on the other side of the door.

&n
bsp; ‘Hello,’ she tried again, and then pushed the door open.

  A control panel of blinking lights sat beneath panoramic windows overlooking the bow of the ship. In the centre of the console an empty chair sat in front of what looked like a joystick. Two men were standing on the opposite side of the room.

  ‘You don’t want to give me any more reasons to speak with the admiral do you?’ the taller man asked.

  ‘Of course not, sir,’ the shorter man shook his head.

  ‘Well then, I’m sure you can follow some very simple instructions, can’t you?’ The other man raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I’m very sorry to disturb you but I was looking for Admiral Harding.’

  ‘Go,’ the taller man instructed the shorter one. ‘I will speak to you later.’

  The shorter man sped from the room, ignoring Alice-Miranda completely. She noticed that his face was the colour of beetroot and he kept his head down as he exited. She had a strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The poor man looked as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  ‘May I help you?’ the taller man offered.

  ‘Oh, I hope so,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘My name’s Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you Mr . . .’

  ‘Prendergast, First Officer, ah . . . Whitley Prendergast,’ the man replied.

  ‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you First Officer Prendergast and this is such a delicious view.’ She stared out at the sea. ‘I’m sorry to have interrupted your meeting before,’ Alice-Miranda apologised.

  ‘He just made a mistake,’ Whitley replied, ‘which will be repaid in due course.’

  Alice-Miranda wondered what the other man must have done. Her frown betrayed her thoughts.

  ‘But nothing for you to worry about, miss.’ Prendergast walked to the other side of the room and took a clipboard from the wall.

  ‘Oh, of course not,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘You must adore working on the Octavia.’