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.’
‘I should wait and see who the winner is before saying such a thing,’ said Anna. ‘But thank you all the same.’
