Violet and the Hidden Treasure
Page 6
‘Isn’t that against health and safety?’
‘A parrot in the dining room – I never heard of such a thing!’
‘Good Lord, they seem in a hurry.’
The two children and the bird headed for the large swing doors into the kitchen, both Art and Violet thinking that there must be a door to the street from there. But Derek, who had arrived in the dining room just moments after the trio, quickly signalled to the head waiter, who in turn signalled to his team of waiters. They closed ranks as efficiently as an army and zoomed in front of the children, blocking their escape.
Art and Violet frantically doubled back on themselves, but the doors by which they had entered the dining room were now blocked by Angel.
Panic rose in both their stomachs. There seemed to be no escape . . .
Then Violet spotted a door hiding behind a large palm tree. She sped towards it and the others followed. It was not until she got right up to it that she saw it was very unpromisingly labelled LADIES. Nevertheless, they all dived through it.
Hardy’s was so grand that they employed a lady to sit in the toilets and keep them spotless, and help the customers with hand towels. The lady’s name was Betty, and Betty was large and friendly and liked a laugh. And laugh is what she did when she saw two children and a cockatoo pile into her toilet.
‘What are you lot doing?’ she giggled.
‘Running away from the head concierge. We’re trying to escape from the hotel,’ Violet panted at her.
Now it just so happened that Betty was none too pleased with Derek. He had just refused to give her a small pay rise while awarding himself an enormous one, which she considered the height of stinginess and very unfair, as she didn’t get paid much and did her job extremely well, putting up with a good deal of rudeness with a shrug and a smile. Here was her chance for a little bit of revenge. Besides, she liked the look of Violet and Art.
‘I see. Well, that window over there, which happens to be open a little bit, leads straight out into the street. But you didn’t hear it from me, okay! I’ll hold them off for a bit.’
‘Thank you so much!’ Art said, as he shoved up the window and the two children clambered out, with the Maharani flapping behind them.
The door burst open again as one of the waiters tried to come in, but Betty was ready for him.
‘What do you think you are doing? You’re a man! You can’t come in here. I’ve got customers.’ She stood in his way.
‘But the children and the parrot?’ he argued. ‘I must get them.’
‘What children and a parrot?’ Betty played dumb. ‘What are you talking about?’
Derek appeared in the doorway. ‘The parrot and children who just came in here,’ he said coldly. ‘Let us in, Betty.’
‘Okay.’ Betty stood out of the way. ‘But I haven’t seen any children and definitely not a parrot. Maybe I did hear something, but I was so busy doing my job, cleaning the toilets.’
Derek, the waiters, the head waiter and, last of all, Angel, all piled into the small toilets. The open window stared at them.
Angel and Derek scrambled out into the dark street. It was empty. Art, Violet and the Maharani had gone.
‘Oh dear, madam,’ Derek sighed. ‘They seem to have escaped. Please accept my sincerest apologies.’
Angel let out a long stream of very rude words.
With the Maharani perched happily on her shoulder and Art by her side, Violet headed towards the theatre, where Rose’s ballet show was in full swing. The streets were busy with late-night shoppers and tourists, and the sun was setting, turning the sky a beautiful marmalade colour.
They hadn’t walked far when a large, modern building loomed up ahead of them, all lit up like a spaceship. At the sight of it, the Maharani began to squawk excitedly.
‘Do you know what that building is?’ Violet asked Art, for she had no idea.
He shrugged and shook his head in reply.
But the Maharani seemed to know it very well and, as they walked past its glass entrance doors, she squawked even more loudly and flew off Violet’s shoulder.
‘Maharani!’ Violet protested. ‘Come back now! You can’t go in there.’ But the bird wasn’t listening and the doors glided silently open for her.
Violet and Art ran after her, calling her name. They found themselves in a huge glass hall, entirely empty except for a desk in the centre of it. Behind the desk stood a young woman, immaculate in a red dress, with large spectacles and very tidy blonde hair. She reminded Violet a little of Lavinia, Dee Dee’s organiser. The young woman raised her arm and the Maharani gently landed on it.
‘Good evening, your Royal Highness,’ the lady greeted the Maharani. ‘And may I wish you a happy Easter. We have been waiting for you to come and visit us. Just in time I see, by the date. May I offer you or your guests some refreshment before we begin?’
The bird nodded appreciatively and the lady produced a tin of Fortnum and Mason fruit and nut mix from her desk and emptied a little into a bowl for the Maharani, who hopped off her arm and started to gobble it down. The young lady walked over to Art and Violet, who were still standing by the door, looking completely confused.
‘Good evening, please come in. You are most welcome as guests of Her Majesty’s. May I introduce myself? I am Rebecca, and I will be here to assist the Maharani through the first part of the proceedings. May I get you something to drink? A hot chocolate perhaps?’
They both nodded, too surprised to speak. Rebecca walked off and reappeared peculiarly quickly with two cups of frothy, steaming hot chocolate with whipped cream and flakes stuck in the top.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Rebecca said, ‘but I didn’t catch your names.’
‘Art and Violet. Violet has been looking after the Maharani,’ Art replied. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re a little confused. Would you mind telling me where we are?’
Rebecca smiled. ‘Of course. This is the international headquarters of the Lucre bank. We manage all of the Maharajah’s affairs – and the Maharani is here, I imagine, about the Maharajah’s will.’
Art and Violet’s mouths dropped. But there was little time to think, only to gulp down their hot chocolate, as Rebecca led them off.
‘The bank looks after the Maharajah’s fortune,’ she explained. ‘But it’s divided into different parts: stocks and shares, gold bullion, jewels, and of course his properties, which are not actually kept in the bank, obviously – but the ownership papers are. According to the Maharajah’s will, the Maharani is now in charge of all these things, so we’ll have to visit each department and they will release each part to the Maharani – if and only if, she can provide the necessary passwords.’
Violet’s heart sank. ‘She hasn’t spoken since the Maharajah died,’ she said. ‘Not a word.’
Rebecca looked concerned. ‘Well, since you are here, let us try.’
Rebecca led them up a glass spiral staircase and into a lobby, dimly lit by a large roof light. Its walls were lined with identical doors.
‘Stocks and shares first,’ Rebecca explained, opening one of the doors.
Art and Violet couldn’t believe the noise. Banks of television screens blared out business news to row upon row of men and women sitting in front of computer screens, shouting into telephones.
‘The markets are closing in New York soon,’ Rebecca explained. ‘Things always get a little tense.’
A man in a pinstripe suit and bright red tie got up from a desk.
‘Ah, here comes Crispin,’ Rebecca replied.
‘Majesty,’ Crispin greeted the Maharani, and nodded at Art and Violet. They all stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting for the Maharani to speak. Quite a long moment.
‘The password if you please, Your Most Excellent Highness,’ Crispin prompted.
There was another long silence while the Maharani stared into space.
‘Um, I don’t think this is going to work,’ Art said.
‘Maybe I should just take her home,’ Violet agreed.
Violet and Art looked at the cockatoo in amazement.
‘Excellent. Like the Maharajah, I do love Shakespeare,’ said Crispin and handed a bundle of papers to Rebecca.
‘Well done, Your Majesty!’ Rebecca said and led them back into the silent lobby.
‘I think we’ll go to jewellery next,’ Rebecca announced, opening another door.
They walked into a tiny, octagonal room with a very high ceiling and shimmering gold walls. A small elderly lady, with large green glasses and bright pink hair, draped in soft velvets and clunky beads, sat behind a small desk.
She came forward, greeting the Maharani respectfully and shaking Violet and Art’s hands.
‘I am Magenta Lowder,’ she introduced herself. ‘Now, Your Majesty, what do you want to say to me?’
This time the Maharani barely hesitated: ‘All that glisters is not gold.’
‘Well done!’ grinned Magenta and she fetched a red box on wheels with a handle, a bit like a suitcase, that Rebecca could pull along behind her.
‘Property next,’ Rebecca announced when they were back in the lobby.
Another door opened, revealing what can only be described as the living room of a large country house. A Labrador leaped off a chintzy sofa and came bounding towards them, ignoring the Maharani’s withering looks. A gentleman wearing tweed breeches and smoking a pipe got up from behind a desk. ‘What ho!’ he greeted them, in the poshest of accents. ‘Now, Your Royal Maj, are you going to do your stuff?’
The Maharani obviously thought this wasn’t quite respectful enough and gave him a disdainful look. But then she did go on to say: ‘Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’
‘Jolly good show,’ the gentleman replied and handed over a crisp white envelope.
‘Last and not least,’ Rebecca said as they walked back to the lobby, ‘the gold bullion.’ And she opened another door.
Violet and Art felt as if they were walking into a church vault. A man, dressed all in black, with a vicar-like air came towards them, his hands held behind his back.
‘Oh, Maharani, Your Majesty, what a pleasure to see you again! How are you coping with your terrible loss?’
The Maharani seemed to shrink down into herself and her feathers drooped.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, Your Highness. Time is the greatest of healers. Now, do you have anything you want to say to me?’
The Maharani gave a little shudder and sat with her head on her chest and said nothing. ‘There is no hurry,’ the man said again. ‘Whenever you are ready.’
The Maharani buried her head further.
Rebecca exchanged looks with Art and Violet. Violet stroked the Maharani gently, and she was rewarded with the cockatoo poking out one eye.
‘Can you remember the password?’ Violet asked gently.
The bird nodded.
‘Will you say it, just for me? Then we are nearly finished and we can go home.’
The cockatoo raised its head and shook itself. ‘Death is a fearful thing,’ she said in a clear voice, before collapsing back into Violet’s neck.
Everyone made sympathetic noises to the poor Maharani.
The vicarish man went over to the stone table that served as his desk. He pressed a button and the floor opened. A small platform lift came up with twenty large gold bars on it, on a small trolley. Rebecca briskly picked up the pulley handle and wheeled it, along with the jewellery case, back into the lobby.
A lady with short grey hair, bright red lipstick and wearing a smart grey suit was waiting for them. She greeted the Maharani and then introduced herself to Violet and Art as Grace Crimble, Head of Lucre’s, and thanked them for escorting the Maharani to the bank.
‘Well, Maharani, congratulations, you have retrieved all the Maharajah’s treasures – and just in time too. A few hours later and the fortune would have gone to the government. You now need to name your heir, who will be free to distribute the money, art, jewellery, and property as they see fit, or alternatively keep it for themselves. Now, Maharani, the Maharajah had many learned and wise friends – have you thought carefully about who to choose?’
The Maharani nodded.
‘Very good. Please tell me of your decision.’
The Maharani, ever the actress, paused theatrically for effect. And then she announced in a clear voice, ‘Violet. Violet Remy-Robinson.’
And everyone, including Violet, gasped.
Violet’s extra-helpful word glossary
Violet loves words, especially if they sound unusual, so some of the words used in her story might have been a little tricky to understand. Most of them you probably know, but Violet has picked out a few to explain . . .
Maharajah – A Maharajah is an Indian Prince. And by the way, Bochir is a made-up place.
Benefactor – This is a very kind and generous person who supports a project with money and often advice too.
Dhal and Samosas – Types of yummy Indian food.
Shakespeare – He was a very famous English writer who wrote plays, for example Romeo and Juliet.
Gnarled – I think this is a great word! It means something that’s twisted and knobbly.
Pliés – Rose had to explain this to me, because I know nothing about ballet. This is one of the first moves you learn as a ballet dancer.
Being detained at his Majesty’s pleasure – Dee Dee had to explain this to me. But it’s a polite way of saying someone is in prison.
Fortnum and Mason – A very grand shop in London, that is famous for its fancy food. The Maharani is lucky to have food delivered from there!
Bollywood – The Indian version of Hollywood. It is in Mumbai which is the biggest city in India.
Reclusive – This means that you hide away because you don’t like seeing other people.
Con-artist – A person who cheats or tricks people, usually into giving him or her lots of money.
Detention – You’re lucky if you don’t know what this is. A detention is a punishment at school where you either have to stay behind at break-time or after school.
Mon Dieu – My mother says this sometimes and I tell her off. It means ‘My God’ in French.
Kuala Lumpur – The capital of Malaysia.
Traumatised – This means that you are very upset by something that has happened to you.
Texas Hold ’Em – Isn’t this just the best name for a game? It makes me think of cowboys and the Wild West, but really it’s a type of poker game (although if my mother asks, of course I don’t know that…)
Tuxedo – A smart black jacket that men (and women sometimes) wear with a bow tie for a party or a wedding.
Mannequin heads – These are those rather creepy doll-like heads that you keep wigs on.
Aviary – A special house for birds.
Lacklustre – this means a bit dull and not much fun.
Concierge and bell boy – These are both jobs in a hotel. A concierge is usually works behind the front desk and the bell boy carries luggage or runs errands for people.
Stocks and Shares – My dad says these are little bits of a big company that you can buy and that can earn you money (or lose it!).
Gold bullion – Big bars of gold. The ones in the bank were very shiny.