Alice-Miranda at Sea (6 page)

‘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.'

A
lice-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.

‘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
.'

‘Yes,' Prendergast agreed.

‘It must be so much fun to travel the world instead of being locked away –'

Prendergast glared. ‘What do you mean, “locked away”?'

‘In an office,' Alice-Miranda explained. ‘Working in the same place every day.'

‘Oh, indeed.' Prendergast roared laughing.

‘Do you get to steer the ship?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Yes, miss.'

‘But who's doing that now?' Alice-Miranda walked around the empty seat in front of the middle of the control panel. ‘I thought you would have loads of help up here – it's amazing to have a huge vessel like the
Octavia
and only one person in control. You must be very good at your job.'

‘Autopilot. But I'm sure you didn't come just to admire the view and talk about my work,' he prompted.

‘Oh no, of course not. I wondered if you could help me locate some of our guests. My friend Jacinta Headlington-Bear's parents are on board but she hasn't seen them yet and I just want to make sure that they're all right.'

Whitley Prendergast walked to the other side of the room and thumbed through a thick folder.

‘Here they are.' He tapped his finger on the page.

‘Headlington-Bear – Victoria and Albert on the Gallery Deck,' Prendergast informed her.

‘Thank you, Mr Prendergast,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘I'm sure I'll find them.'

She turned to leave.

The child glanced back at Prendergast and waved. ‘Enjoy your evening.'

But the First Officer did not reply. He was humming loudly and seemed rather focused on cutting up some paper.

People who work on ships are very busy, Alice-Miranda thought to herself.

She made her way down five flights of stairs to the Gallery Deck, so named for the millions of dollars' worth of artworks that lined the long corridors; Picassos and Rembrandts hung alongside works by Matisse and Monet. It was a truly splendid hallway, despite being ‘below deck'. She walked along the corridor, checking the polished brass nameplates that were located in the centre of each door.

‘Ah, here it is, Victoria Suite,' Alice-Miranda said out loud. ‘That's funny – I thought it was Victoria and Albert.' Alice-Miranda wondered if she was in the right place. It was definitely the Gallery Deck – it said so at the end of the hall. She tapped on the door lightly. There was no reply so she waited a moment then tapped again more firmly.

Ambrosia Headlington-Bear, having made no decision about her outfit for the ship's departure, had retreated to the bath where she lay under a froth of bubbles. With some soothing jazz in her ears, she wondered how on earth she was going to choose what to wear for dinner.

‘Well,' said Alice-Miranda with a shrug, ‘perhaps they've gone upstairs.'

Inside the Albert suite opposite, Neville Nordstrom's stomach grumbled. No one else had come to claim the room, so he'd decided that he might as well stay put for now – except that he really needed something to eat. He'd drifted off to sleep again after being awoken by the blasting of the ship's horn when the vessel was casting off. And now he'd been here for what seemed a couple of hours. Considering he'd lain awake most of the night before, worrying about the journey ahead, it was no surprise that Neville was tired.

Neville decided to go in search of some food – surely there had to be a vending machine or cafeteria somewhere close by. He picked up his trumpet case and opened the door. A small girl with cascading chocolate curls was standing outside in the hallway. Neville stepped backwards and closed the door. He hoped she would go away.

Alice-Miranda spun around to see who was there. But the door had clicked shut. And then she saw the nameplate – Albert Suite.

‘Oh, so that's it! The Headlington-Bears must have two suites,' Alice-Miranda decided.

Knowing there was someone inside, she knocked sharply at the door and waited.

Neville stood on the other side wondering what he should do.

‘Hello,' Alice-Miranda called. ‘Is anyone there?'

Neville felt his chest tighten. She must have seen him.

Alice-Miranda waited a moment and then rapped sharply again. ‘Hello. Are you there?'

Neville opened the door.

‘Oh, hello,' Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘My name's Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I'm very pleased to meet you.' She thrust a dainty hand towards him.

Neville's eyes were downcast towards the floor.

‘Are you all right?' Alice-Miranda asked.

Neville nodded but didn't look up. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like girls. They made him nervous.

‘Mmm,' he mumbled.

‘I'm looking for my friend Jacinta Headlington- Bear's parents and I thought they were in the Victoria and Albert Suite but I think I must have made a mistake and perhaps they have two suites, the Victoria
and
the Albert but you're here so I think First Officer Prendergast must have misread the passenger list. Oh! Do you play the trumpet?' Alice-Miranda asked, glancing towards his case.

Neville moved his head ever so slightly.

‘Oh, that's wonderful. Do you know that there's an old-fashioned big band on board? Their leader is Mr Morrison and he's the most amazing trumpet player ever. I saw all their instruments before when my friends and I were exploring the ship. I can't wait to hear them play. Maybe they'll let you practise with them, or perhaps if you're really good, which you must be to have brought your instrument on board with you, you might even be able to play with them.'

Neville had no idea what to say. So he said nothing.

‘Do you have a name?' Alice-Miranda asked.

Neville gulped. His mouth felt like he'd swallowed a bucket of sand.

‘Neville,' he whispered.

‘Well, it's lovely to have met you, Neville. Would you like to come and meet my friends? We're going swimming,' Alice-Miranda enthused. ‘The pool's heated.'

He glanced at his case and then flicked his gaze back to her momentarily.

‘Oh, are you off to do some practice? Well, that's lovely. I do hope I might see you at dinner tonight. I'm sure my friends would love to meet you too.'

Neville chewed at the quick at the base of his thumbnail, and gripped the handle of his battered case. He wished she would disappear.

‘Well, I've got to get back upstairs. I hope I see you later.' Alice-Miranda skipped down the passage.

Neville rather hoped he never saw her again. He stepped backwards into the room, closed the door and took a deep breath. He was cross with himself. If only he hadn't been so jolly tongue-tied he could have asked her where he could find something to eat. She seemed to know everything. There was another sharp knock at the door and a young man in a white uniform entered.

‘Oh, good afternoon, sir.' The man almost walked straight into him. ‘I see you're awake. Would you like me to bring you anything? I looked in earlier and you were sound asleep.'

Neville was frozen to the spot. He did not reply.

‘Might I enquire where you are heading off to, sir?' The man looked at Neville's case. ‘I must say I've never seen anyone quite so devoted to their luggage.'

Neville didn't return his smile. ‘I-i-is . . . is this my room?' he mumbled.

‘I should think so, sir. You are Master Neville?'

Neville nodded ever so slightly.

‘Would you like some help to unpack, sir?' the young man went to take the case from Neville's hand.

‘No.' Neville spun around. ‘I-i-it's okay. I-I-'ve got it.'

‘Well then, at least allow me to bring you something to eat. Is there anything particular you'd like?'

Neville shuffled back through the open doorway into the entrance hall and then across into the sitting room. He walked over and sat on the couch, dragging his case onto his lap.

‘Ham s-s-sandwich,' he whispered.

‘Very good, sir. Would you like mustard and French fries with that?

Neville's stomach grumbled.

‘I should think so,' the steward said. ‘My name is Henderson, sir, and I will be looking after you for the week. My apologies that I wasn't here to meet you when you arrived. I had some unexpected business to attend to but I'm here now and I'm sure everything will be smooth sailing from here on in.'

Neville stared at the floor.

‘Very good, Master Neville.' The steward exited the room.

Neville heaved a deep sigh. At least he could settle in properly, knowing he was in the right place.

Neville was yet to discover, wedged between the writing desk and the bookshelf, his welcome letter addressed to Mr Neville Headlington-Bear.