Unfortunately Tomato also wasn’t interested in solving the problem of how Irfan could get his job back. That was what Mum and Dad and I were trying to sort out. Well, Dad had actually gone back to snoring so that just left Mum and me.
This was Mum’s idea.
And this was my idea.
So, as you can see, none of us was doing very well.
9. Wardrobes and a Very Scrappy Plan
Did I tell you that Ice Cream is in our room now? Well, she is. I’m not sure when it happened, but I do know that it couldn’t have happened without someone (or some-two!) helping her. I’m sure you can guess who the some-two were.
The twins are certain that keeping the animals in our room will convince Mum and Dad to take them all home with us. They are going to be hugely disappointed, but I’m too soft to tell them right now. Or maybe I’m just a bit of a coward when it comes to delivering BAD NEWS.
How can we possibly take them home? We can’t smuggle them on to the plane. All the baggage goes through the detector machines at the airport. So do we! The animals will be taken away from us and that will cause a major scene, with Tomato and Cheese probably screaming the place down. On the other hand, if I take the animals away from Cheese and Tomato now, they’ll scream the hotel down!
Besides, I have to share a room with them. They will probably never speak to me again if I tell them the animals have to stay behind – not to mention the fact that they shouldn’t be in the bedroom.
In the meantime, Ice Cream has taken up a completely relaxed ‘this-is-my-home’ position on the double bed that they share. I know Mum and Dad play along with the twins and pretend that Ice Cream is ‘their’ dog. What Mum and Dad don’t realize is that the twins aren’t playing at all. They really think that Ice Cream is their dog and she is going home with them.
Our room has turned into an animal rescue centre! They all look very pleased with themselves too, and when I say ‘they’ I mean the three kittens, Ice Cream and the twins.
By this morning my brain was beginning to ache with all these problems. As if I didn’t have enough to think about, it was clear from the noises the kittens were making that they were hungry. Then Ice Cream made one or two tongue-slapping grunts that suggested a nice little snack would go down very well.
None of us had any money for food. Irfan was nowhere to be seen. (I checked in all the bushes!) Where could I find food? The answer was obvious, really. Where do you find food in a hotel? In the kitchen. And the kitchen was bound to have a waste bin. It might even be outside the kitchen, which would help a lot.
I left the twins to keep an eye on the animals and went downstairs to spy out the land. I walked casually past the kitchen a few times, peering in through the open door. Then I took a look from the outside.
The good news was that there was a bin for scraps. The bad news was that it was inside the kitchen. It was close to the back door, but it was still going to be awkward to get at. The kitchen staff would certainly see me. Then it came to me – my BIG IDEA. If I could get the kitchen staff out of the way, then I could nip in, grab some scraps and disappear, like a phantom in the night. (Except that it would be broad daylight and I’m not at all ghostly.)
All I needed was something to distract the staff and hopefully get all four of them out of the kitchen for a minute or two. And the answer to that problem was lying on a double bed in my very own room upstairs.
ICE CREAM!
I raced back upstairs, sat Cheese and Tomato down on one of the beds and told them about the plan. I was going to need their help to pull it off. They thought it was brilliant, which was very satisfying until they got completely over-excited and started jumping on the beds and tearing round the room. That set off Ice Cream, barking like mad. I hastily clamped her mouth shut and she looked at me with her eyebrows waggling up and down with surprise. It was going to be important to keep her quiet, at least for the time being.
I looped one of my belts round Ice Cream’s neck a couple of times to make a collar, so we could hold on to her. We crept down to the kitchen, where there was a great clattering of pans, taps gushing water, cooks shouting at each other and lots of very busy noises in general.
Ice Cream kept tugging at her collar. She could smell food and she was hungry. She began to growl.
‘Sssh! Quiet! Just be patient, will you?’ I hissed. She waggled her eyebrows at me again, but went quiet. I peered round the edge of the kitchen door. This was it – time to put my plan into action.
‘OK. Are you two ready?’
The twins nodded and grinned.
‘Cheese and Tomato, you stay here and get ready to grab Ice Cream. Once you have her, go straight back to our bedroom as fast as possible and wait for me to come up with the food. Got that?’
They nodded, made ‘Shush!’ and ‘You shush first!’ noises at each other and then stood like sentries on either side of the kitchen door.
I took Ice Cream and hurried round to the back door. Ice Cream was already straining at her collar, wanting to get at all the food. Good!
I let her go.
Ice Cream went charging in. There was a moment of uncanny silence and then the dog-bomb went off. Boom!
‘DOG! DOG IN THE KITCHEN!’ someone yelled. (In Turkish!) Pans were dropped. People screamed, yelled and generally made an awful lot of noise. I peered inside. The staff were rushing about as if they were in some crazy comedy film! Some were chasing the dog. One had climbed on to a table and had his apron over his face as if that meant the dog couldn’t see him.
‘GET THE DOG!’ bellowed the head chef, hurling a large saucepan and his hat in Ice Cream’s direction. (They both missed.)
All that fuss, just because of a small dog! Ice Cream was brilliant. It was almost as if she understood exactly what I wanted her to do. She waited until all the staff were after her and then went skidding off to the kitchen door, where Cheese and Tomato were ready to spirit her away.
I waited until everyone was out of the kitchen and then took advantage of the chaos and dashed in. I rifled through the scraps bin. URGH! But it had to be done. I filled my carrier bag with as much meaty food as I could find, then raced back out. Once outside, I walked in a more sensible and normal manner back to our room. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Luckily nobody noticed that I had bits of manky vegetable from the scraps bin stuck halfway up one arm.
We met back in our room. This time we all jumped on the beds! It had gone brilliantly well. Cheese and Tomato were cheering. Ice Cream was barking.
That was when there was a loud noise at the door. KNOCK! KERNOCK!
We froze. I grabbed Ice Cream, clamped my hand round her muzzle to keep her quiet and climbed into the wardrobe. Tomato closed the door on me. There was a tiny gap between the doors where I could just about see into the room.
‘Come on,’ said Dad, knocking on the bedroom door again. ‘Open up!’
Cheese slowly opened the door.
‘What was all that noise?’ asked Dad. ‘I heard barking. Is there a dog in here?’
‘No.’ Tomato shook her head. After all, she wasn’t exactly lying. She hadn’t got a dog in there. I had the dog here in the wardrobe!
‘Where’s Nicholas? I thought he was with you?’
‘He went,’ said Cheese.
‘Went where?’ Dad asked.
Cheese shrugged. I could see him pointing nervously around the room and eventually jabbing a finger straight at my wardrobe.
No, Cheese! Not the wardrobe! Noooooooo!
Dad stared straight at me. At least that’s what it seemed like.
‘Oh, ha ha,’ said Dad. ‘Very funny. Good joke. I expect he went downstairs, did he?’
‘Yes,’ Tomato said quickly, thank goodness.
‘Right,’ said Dad, looking around. ‘You’d better tidy up before your mother comes in here. This room is in a right mess. Anyone would think you were keeping a zoo up here. Do a bit of tidying, please?’
‘OK,’ chorused the twins, as Dad le
ft.
Cheese opened the wardrobe door. ‘You can come out now,’ he told me.
‘Why did you tell Dad where I was?’ I demanded.
‘Because that is where you was,’ said Cheese.
‘Where he were,’ corrected Tomato, getting her grammar wrong too.
‘But –’ I began, and then realized there wasn’t any point in trying to explain it all to a three-year-old. The important thing was that we had all escaped, including Ice Cream.
We hauled the little kitty basket out from beneath my bed, gave them some food and gave some to Ice Cream too. We had at least solved that problem.
But what about Irfan’s job?
10. Those Orange Trainers Should Be Arrested!
Cracking morning! Mum came rushing into our room. She was very excited and waved her video camera at me.
‘I think we can prove Irfan had nothing to do with the fire alarm,’ she said. ‘I was afraid the camera had been damaged when I smashed it into the alarm, not to mention all that water spraying all over the place – but it’s fine. It’s still working properly. Anyhow, I was checking to see what had been filmed. Take a look at this.’
I peered at the little screen on the side of the camera. It started with Dad’s karaoke.
‘Hang on, you don’t want that,’ said Mum with a shudder, pressing the fast-forward button. ‘Ah, this is where it starts. Look.’
The belly dancing had begun. Mum had been sitting at our table when she started filming. The scene jiggled a bit as she got to her feet and carried on wobbling as she made her way to the front for a better view. Suddenly the film jerked all over the place. As Mum tripped on something the film showed a flash of ceiling, wall, people, her own feet, a blur of orange, the floor, yet more ceiling, a glimpse of red and then – nothing. The film had stopped.
But, the important bit was when Mum tripped, because the camera showed clearly that she didn’t exactly trip. She was tripped up by someone’s foot!
I recognized that foot at once because it was wearing a bright orange, very expensive Nike trainer. Mason! He had deliberately tripped up my mother! Not only that but after that moment the film scrabbled about madly and suddenly went all blurred until BAMM! The camera smashed into something red and stopped.
‘Watch carefully, Nicholas,’ said Mum, rewinding the film. She showed the end in slow motion. It was still blurry until moments before the finish, when it all came into focus and yes, there was the fire alarm and, BAMM!, the camera hit the fire alarm.
I punched the air. ‘That’s brilliant! The manager can’t possibly say it was Irfan’s fault. This proves it was the camera that hit the fire alarm and it wasn’t even an accident, because that snotty Mason Grubnose deliberately tripped you up. He and his orange trainers should be arrested!’
‘Exactly. Your father and I are going to take this down to Arif straight away. The holiday ends tomorrow, so there’s not much time left for us to sort things out. In fact you and the twins should start packing. We’ve an early start tomorrow.’
That left me rather open-mouthed. Packing to go? Already? So much had been going on I had lost track of time. Our bit of fun with the pets in our room would have to end.
Oh dear.
Even as Mum left the room to go to meet the manager I could see the twins looking at me. Tomato’s lower lip was already quivering. I felt that it wouldn’t be long before mine was too. This was going to be heartbreaking for all of us, especially Ice Cream, who thought we were her family.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What can I do? We have to let the animals go back on the street. We’ve had lots of fun with them, but now we have to say goodbye.’
‘They’ll DIE!’ wailed Cheese. ‘It’s all your fault! They’ll be deaded!’
‘We’ll stop you!’ shouted Tomato.
‘Look, I don’t want this to happen either, but it’s like I said right at the beginning – we can’t take them home on the plane. We really, really can’t. It’s not allowed.’
‘We’ll hide them.’
‘No, you won’t. Do you remember the scanners at the airport? Do you remember seeing some people having their luggage searched? You won’t be able to get the animals past the scanners. The airport security police will take the animals from us and put them in cages or just dump them outside. Now, do you want the animals to be let out on the streets they know here, or would you rather they were dumped miles away at the airport?’
Tomato gave me her if-you-touch-those-animals-I-will-eat-your-legs look.
‘It’s got to be done,’ I repeated. I pulled the basket of kitties out from beneath my bed. I had to lie down to do this, of course, and in an instant the twins had pounced on me. I found myself trying to shake off two squealing, squawking, three-year-old hyenas while carefully carrying a basket of kittens. I managed to get to my feet with Tomato clamped to my left leg and Cheese clamped to the right.
I struggled to the door, calling Ice Cream. Like the lovely, wonderful, good dog she was, she came trotting after me. Out into the corridor we went, with Cheese and Tomato yelling and me trying to go down the stairs balancing a basket of kittens, with the twins clamped to each leg. I’m sure Tomato was trying to eat my knees.
I had almost reached the open door to the street when Cheese suddenly threw himself in front of me. I almost went flying, trying to avoid stepping on him. The basket lurched from my hands. The kittens meowed and spat as they hit the floor and immediately went scampering off in three different directions. Ice Cream chased after one, then the other, then another, but she might just as well have chased her own tail.
All the noise attracted the other street dogs and two of them came bursting into the hotel lobby to see what all the fun was. They were closely followed by about ten more. I lost count. Dogs of every shape and size were all over the place, barking furiously.
The manager came hurrying out of his little office, followed by my parents, and immediately got mown down by three kittens being chased by an avalanche of dogs.
‘Save them, Mummy!’ cried Cheese, snot dribbling down his face from all his tears.
Tomato was sitting on a step sobbing.
That was when Irfan arrived.
‘Hey! Hey!’ he shouted, clapping his hands. ‘Go on, out!’
The street dogs suddenly stopped, looked at him, turned tail and ran. It was astonishing. It was as if Irfan was Doctor Dolittle or something. As the dogs retreated Cheese and Tomato ran around the room gathering up the kittens into their arms. As for Ice Cream, when Irfan arrived the dog simply went across to Mum and sat quietly at her feet.
The manager heaved a huge sigh of relief as the last dog vanished.
‘How did you do that?’ Arif asked Irfan.
‘All the street dogs know me, and the street cats. I feed them. I talk to them. They are my friends.’ He studied Arif’s face. ‘Sometimes I think animals are better than people. More friendly.’
Arif smiled and clapped Irfan on the shoulder. ‘You are a strange man, Irfan. I don’t understand you, but I can see you are a good man.’ Arif glanced at us. ‘These kind people have shown me a film. I was wrong. It wasn’t you that caused the sprinkler to go off. Madam was right. It was her, but it was an accident caused by a boy.’
That was news to Irfan. He was very surprised. ‘A boy?’ He looked at me in surprise. I quickly shook my head.
The manager nodded and looked very serious. ‘Mason Grubnose. I think his family will have to pay for some of the damage. But, more importantly, if you will forgive me, you can come back to work here. The guests like you. I don’t know why, but they do!’
They laughed and shook hands. Irfan had his job. The smile on his face was something to treasure. Now he looked at Cheese and Tomato. He wanted to know what had been going on. I told him everything. It was Mum and Dad’s turn to be surprised.
‘You mean you really did have a zoo in the bedroom?’ Dad asked incredulously.
‘Not exactly a zoo, Dad,’ I pointed out. ‘Just three kit
tens and Ice Cream. I did tell the twins several times we couldn’t possibly take them home on the plane.’
‘Oh, but you can.’
! ? ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
We all turned and looked at Irfan, gobsmacked.
11. Centipedes as Big as Elephants
‘It’s true,’ Irfan said. ‘I am part of an animal-rescue group. Why do all the street dogs of Kalkan look so healthy and happy? Because KAPSA looks after them. KAPSA stands for Kalkan Association for the Protection of Street Animals.’
Dad screwed up his face. ‘Just a moment. That would be K-A-F-T-P-O-S-A,’ he said, sounding it out. ‘KAFTPOSA, not KAPSA.’
Mum nudged him hard. ‘Stop it, Ron! Do go on, Irfan.’
‘I know KAPSA,’ Arif put in eagerly. ‘One of the people who helped start it is an Englishwoman, Maggie. She lives here. I know her. She has a shop. I bought some jeans from her. Very expensive. Turkish jeans much cheaper. But these designer jeans. I like Maggie. She has so many dogs, cats too. KAPSA do good work. Kalkan dogs and cats look nice now, not all boney-boney.’
Irfan nodded. ‘Tourists come, fall in love with a stray dog or cat and ask if the animal can go to their country with them. We give them the right injections and travel documents and send them – sixty-one animals this year already.’ He grinned proudly. ‘You can take animals home, if you want.’
The twins did want! So did I. But what about Mum and Dad?
Dad was shaking his head. ‘We can’t do that, can we? I mean, we’ve already got a small zoo. There’s Schumacher the tortoise, Rubbish the goat, all the hens and rabbits, loads of spiders, woodlice, earthworms, earwigs, ants, bugs of all kinds.’ Dad began to nod, pulling at his beard. ‘Centipedes!’ he added suddenly, as if centipedes as big as elephants were stomping about all over our garden. ‘Yep, it’s pretty full back there.’
My Brother's Famous Bottom Makes a Splash! Page 5