Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot’s Pepe Talk
Ambrosia had, somewhere along the line, become Pepe’s guardian angel.
Aaaargh had always been her lead pilot, but he had become tired, and overwhelmed and needed to get back to his little family of Silvergulls.
Pepe had really only just begun to realise the little voice inside his head was not only a voice of reason, but also the voice of the tiny ladybird who sat on his shoulder most days when she didn’t need to fly off to look after other things, and check on other creatures’ adventures.
‘Well, Pepe,’ she said in a very reasonable tone that reminded him of his mum when he hadn’t been able to go to sleep at night as a baby bird. ‘You have been a most magical, kind-hearted and giving human bean when you’re not a bird. You have not let down your side once and, because you’re bigger and stronger, you’ve been able to keep the wind off Aaaargh most days, and you know what? Sometimes I don’t think he even noticed.’
‘He noticed,’ said Pepe.’ But it’s what I’m supposed to do. Aaaargh is the lead pilot, and I am supposed to protect him.’
‘But who looks after you,’ Ambrosia asked ( – for if you remember, Pepe had grown up never really knowing who or what he was. He was not quite a silvergull, he was bigger than most, AND he was not quite sure what his father had been AND, unlike most silvergulls, he did not like being called by his shortened name, because Pepe’s real name was Pepe Louis O’Patrick, and when that was shorted it turned into PLOP, and Pepe’s reaction to being called PLOP had always been a very obvious physical discomfort that no one talked about, at least if he had anything to do with it).
‘I do, when I’m here. You do, I suppose, and my real mum does when I’m at home…. And all the rest of my family, but sometimes they’re a long long way away, and I feel very lonely,’ said Pepe.
‘You know,’ Ambrosia said so very, very softly he could hardly hear her voice. ‘It’s okay to be lonely, and it’s okay to be sad. I’m not very good at saying how I feel sometimes either, just in case you didn’t know. Sometimes I get really mad.’
‘I noticed.’ Pepe began to smile. ‘I get mad too, but I might not be quite so expressive about it. I’m not allowed to be. Sometimes I have to simply content myself with kicking tyres and telling everyone I’m fine, when I’m not.’ He stretched one wing and then the other. ‘This whole year has been a total waste of time!’
‘Has it though?’ Ambrosia found her special crash-helmet sunhat and strapped it onto her head.
‘Yes it has!’
‘I don’t think it has. Not really. You’ve learnt a lot. You’ve learnt how to become a team player, properly this time, and what all that means, even if it does mean someone else is going to win the races. Sometimes, that’s what team players need to do, because they’ve been told to do it, or because they’re the youngest, or the biggest, or the more strategic, and the more careful. You’ve shown a lot of personal strengths, and that is something to be incredibly proud of.’
This didn’t make Pepe feel much better. Not really.
‘Can I tell you something,’ he whispered very quietly to Ambrosia.
‘Of course you can,’ she said.
‘Sometimes, I want to win too. Just one time. Just to prove that I can. Just once.’
‘Well, I believe you will,’ she said. ‘If you know you can, as much as I know you can, then I believe you will. Do you know you can?’
‘I know I can,’ Pepe said fiercely.
‘Then you will.’
Ambrosia patted him on his feathery shoulder with one tiny little ladybird leg and Pepe lifted his wings and began to run along the tarmac.
‘Then I will,’ he said, and off they flew.
P.S. Behind them flew a loveliness of ladybirds on all sorts of other birds, because Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot planned on heading home, and she was taking all her children with her.
(You see, when in the rhymes, they tell the ladybird to fly away home, they had NOT realised she had all her kids with her, and her house had not been set on fire either. All it meant was that no one really knew what Ladybirds do to keep people safe. Perhaps that is the moral of the story :) ) –Kate Capewell.
Another Secret Santa Letter :) xxx
Dear Aussie,
We’re here with you, all the way to the moon and back.
You are strong. you are smart, you think of other people. That’s what we love about you.
You know this track, this trail, this road, this place like the back of your hand. Every curve, every roundabout way of breaking records, and making them. You’ve done it all your life. Let’s get this thing done together, kiddo.
If you’re burning up the track, our flaky pastry, then you’re doing what you’re supposed to do.
Remember this: England might be your mate, but we’re the ones who survived a country and lived to tell the tales.
You’re the winner here. We’re the winners here. Come on Aussie.
Love,
Aunty.
P.S. Sorry Chuck. Sometimes we gotta show a bit of National Pride, for all our kids overseas. The magic word is “Yet”, and “yet” is what we are going to do to win. ” Yet, I… can” “Yet, I will.” “Yet, I did”.
Secret Santa Letters
Dear You,
You’re mum is my dad and I don’t care.
Love you,
A Cardigan.
Letter Two.
Dear furry creature who lies at the bottom of my bed on weekdays and when it’s hungry it yells.
You are the best frog ever.
Love Mog
Letter Three
Dear Hairy MaClary’s writer author, and etc, and the illustrator, who’s fab,
We all loved your stories and you are wonderful people who have excited children all over the world for decades and decades combined.
With love from your millions of fans all over the world (and me)
Letter Four (and the second last one for today)
Dear Humperdinck,
You are the best vacuum cleaner, and I am pretty sure if your owners could love you more, they would sing as well as you do, when given the opportunity. That’s a EUFY, and I wasn’t paid to do that.
Love, the owner (or one of them).
Letter Five,
She’s still slimmer than ever, and one of the funniest people I have ever known. Have a Sherry on me and don’t forget the coffee mug.
Love Her dad (all parents understand this, and so do their kids when they were small until they grew up and forgot and turned into woebegone people from Mars and several other heavenly planets, and really? Yep yep, that’s two, so there we go).
The Sea Eagle.
It had made a nest on top of the antenna — a nest which had been there for many years by the hill near the police station, so the white-bellied Sea Eagle found herself in the perfect position to see the Silver Gull land at the river’s mouth.
It cocked its head. The gull had a larger bird with it, which had just landed, and the eagle could not make out what kind of bird it was. It looked very similar to the seagull (which is the common name for the silver gull that had alighted on the beach) but it seemed, if not half as big again, at least a third as big. Why the sea eagle found this amusing, it did not know.
It flew down a little nearer, landing on one of the many sheoaks closer to the river’s mouth. These trees were coated with shag (cormorant) poop, and smelled awful, but it did not deter the eagle from watching the two birds as they made themselves comfortable by the large piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand.
They seemed to be having quite an animated conversation.
The Sea Eagle had never been particularly good at reading lips and the fact the birds did not have lips but beaks, made it even harder. All she could really hear, from her precarious perch on a tree limb (which was much too fragile to hold a bird her size) was loud and obnoxious squawking.
Perhaps they had found something to eat?
The smaller bird strutted back and forth on the golden sand, arching its neck and glaring down at its orange legs for reasons the eagle could not fathom. She glanced down at her own pale feet where her talons grasped the thickest part of the branch. Those birds did not appear to have talons. In fact they seemed to be wearing flippers, or fins, on their feet which, in her humble opinion, wouldn’t catch any decent food at all.
She’d never really thought about this before. If they couldn’t catch food in those ridiculous shoes, how the heck were they going to be able to eat anything? Perhaps it was the reason why the smaller bird (which seemed to be yelling at the top of its voice while the larger one stood there looking slightly nonplussed) seemed to be so angry?
‘Maybe I should go down to that beach and see what the heck is going on,’ the eagle thought to herself. ‘I can help these two ridiculous birds get some food, and then they can leave.’
She had already decided having new strangers in her town, especially birds she had never seen before (the taller one was really very odd-looking) was not something she felt comfortable with, especially if they were going to continue being as loud and as noisy as they currently were.
The silver gull tried to peck the bigger bird.
‘Right, that’s it,’ thought the sea eagle angrily. ‘I’m going in.’
She flapped her strong wings once and then twice as the springy branch underneath her bounced up and down, then let go with her talons and swooped towards the two gulls, scaring the bejebus out of them as she landed on the piece of driftwood.
‘What the by-crikey-Jimmy-Joe-Bobs is going on,’ she asked. ‘And who the heck are you?’
./ ./
Pepe, after recovering from the huge bird landing so closely beside them, glanced at his smaller companions. ‘Uh, so this is Aaaargh, and the tiny one is Ambrosia.’
‘Ambrosia? Where?’ The sea eagle glared at him.
She really was quite large, Pepe thought. He didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was just really big. Her wing span, something he’d noticed as she’d flown in towards them, had been at least two metres across.
‘The ladybird.’ He gulped. ‘The ladybird is Ambrosia. Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, if we’re going to get picky. Which we’re not,’ he added quickly, noticing the hook on the end of the eagle’s beak.
‘A ladybird?’ The eagle cocked its head. ‘I haven’t seen one of those in quite some time. Where is this ladybird?’
‘On my back,’ said Aaaargh loudly.
‘She’s not deaf, you fool,’ hissed Pepe. ‘She’s an eagle. She’s got good eyes.’
‘How does that make you not deaf,’ Aaaargh squawked.
‘I don’t know. How come you’re blind, when you’re also supposed to have good eyes,’ Pepe hissed again ‘This is a sea eagle we’re dealing with, mate. I suggest you be on your best behaviour.’
The eagle ignored their chatter. ‘Where is this ladybird?’
‘I told you where she is. She’s on my back.’ Aaaargh began to jump up and down in a most unsightly manner.
‘Show me,’ the eagle demanded.
Pepe noticed Ambrosia crawl out from under one of Aaaargh’s silver-white feathers.
‘Hello,’ said the ladybird. ‘My name is Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot.’ She lifted her bonnets and wiggle-flew over to the eagle’s beak, landing quite carefully right on the end of the hook.
The white-bellied Sea Eagle crossed her great golden eyes slightly as she stared at the tiny beetle. ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘It is nice to meet someone with good manners. I’m Leucogaster. Your companions are very noisy.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Pepe. He was beginning to feel quite cross. ‘I’m Pepe, and I’ve been very polite.’ He glared at Aaaargh. ‘It’s this not-very-nice gull that’s been making all the noise.’
‘I have too,’ said Aaaargh. ‘And, as I said, it’s because there’s weather coming in, and you’re standing around telling me everything’s fine, and everyone’s fine, and they aren’t fine, and we’re not fine, and we have to catch the next stiff breeze if we’re going to be on our way, so why you decided here would be a good place to stop is beyond me, Pepe, because we need to get Ambrosia further north before she falls asleep. You know what happens if she falls asleep, right?’
‘What happens when you fall asleep,’ the sea eagle asked the tiny ladybird sitting on the end of her nose.
‘When I fall asleep in the winter time I go into hibernation,’ the ladybird replied. ‘And when I wake up the world is like new again, which is wonderful, but,’ and Ambrosia wiggle-flew back to Aargh and landed on his head. ‘I forget everyone I’ve ever met, and I just don’t want to do that. Not yet. I’m not ready to forget things.’
‘Sometimes it’s good to forget things,’ the eagle replied quietly. ‘I try to forget all the eggs that didn’t make it, and I try to forget all the people who keep trying to remove my nest from the top of that big aerial back there.’ She glanced back at the hill. ‘And I just try to get on with living my life without being harassed all the time by people who don’t know what they’re doing.’
‘I understand that,’ Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot said from Aaaargh’s silvered temple. ‘But I have children, little people, to get back to, and gardens to visit, and aphids to eat, and I just ate my last one. Winter is upon us, and I’m just not far enough north to stay awake yet. I can’t go to sleep. Not yet.’
‘Then why did you stop,’ the sea eagle asked.
‘Aaaargh can’t keep flying, no matter how good a pilot he thinks he is,’ Pepe replied, wincing as Aaaargh pecked him on the shoulder. ‘He needs to rest.’
‘Then I will make sure we get you to where you need to go,’ said the Sea Eagle. ‘I have family, other Sea Eagles, all the way up this coast so we will be able to get you to a warm place, Ambrosia. I promise.’ She would have smiled, but she had a beak not a mouth, so smiling was not possible.
‘Thank you,’ said Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, adventurer extraordinaire. ‘That is all I’ve ever asked for. When it does become springtime, I will try to make it all the way back to my favourite little person, and perhaps I will be able to bring children of my own.’
‘Oh good, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out,’ said Aargh. ‘Now, where’s the nearest pub? I feel like some hot chips.’
The eagle huffed and fluffed up her feathers.
‘Typical seagull,’ she said, but it was not unkindly. She turned to look at Pepe once more, her golden eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of bird are you, exactly,’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you before.’
‘I don’t really know,’ Pepe replied. ‘I know my mum was a Silver Gull, but I don’t know who my dad was. I’m bigger than normal seagulls, but smaller than the Albatross and bigger than a Pacific Gull. I just can’t figure it out.’
‘Then you must be a very special bird indeed,’ said the eagle as she rose gracefully from the driftwood branch. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’
Pepe blinked. It was possibly the nicest thing any avian had ever said to him.
Whether you wear black shorts or sunglasses, have Supernatural tendencies, or like to run around yelling out code words with your cousins while you’re playing a game of pool, whether you like dressing up in skintight red suits, have hands with long scissors, or think you might be Out of Time, there is always a Sea Eagle, and always a Ladybird, and always a few raucous seagulls. You can find these birds in the strangest locations sometimes, and often where they aren’t meant to be.
That is the magic of storytelling.
C.S. Capewell aka Kate Capewell.
P.S. When we got our very first home loan several years ago, we were helped by a wonderful group of individuals from a number of different teams and businesses who helped us realise our dream. I will never be able to thank them enough. I still owe someone some chocolate, and I have never forgotten.
Kate x
For the original story of Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, head over to the wonderful team at https://wildeyedpress.com.au
If you need insurance there is also a wonderful group you can get hold of, but they are pretty good at doing their own advertising. There are also a couple of wonderful banks, health insurers, and TV stations in WA and in the Eastern States you might want to watch if you ever come to Australia. There are decent people in the world, you just need to know what to look out for.
Chapter Twelve — Untitled.
Gretal happened to be cleaning the toilets when Hans and Bart got there. She looked at the two slightly sweating men, a surprised expression on her face.
Hans swore under his breath and tried not to touch anything he shouldn’t be touching. ‘Sorry. Men’s business.’
Her face cleared. ‘The women’s toilet is finished?’
‘Thank you Gretal.’ He glanced at Bart. ‘Come on.’ He began stalking towards the kitchen.
‘Where are we going,’ huffed Bart. He sounded concerned.
‘We are not using the women’s toilet to have a conversation.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘Because it’s just been cleaned, and the way my senses are going off fuck knows what it’s going to look like by the time we’re finished. God. It sounds like we’re having a secret tryst.’ He did not mention he really did not want to explain to Gretal why she might need to clean the toilet again. Blood stains were… He really didn’t want to have to clean it himself, which he got the feeling he’d do just so he didn’t need to explain anything, like where Bart had gone, for example. ‘If we change accidentally, or you know, get caught up in the lizard’s dreaming bullshit, we could damage stuff in there, so…’
Bart, the arsehole, began to chuckle. He wasn’t very bright at the best of times.
‘Good point. So …’ he said from behind Hans as they headed down the short corridor. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Out the back,’ said Hans as they entered the kitchen.
The sous chef, whose name he regretfully had never found out, looked up from her mopping. She frowned at them slightly and Hans gave her a wave.
‘Just heading out the back for a sec.’
‘Okay. I think Shianne is going that way shortly. She’s just emptying the bins.
Hans scowled. ‘Tell her to wait until we come back in.’
‘Okay? Is there something going on?’ She stopped mopping and straightened up, looking back and forth between the two men.
‘We’ll handle it,’ replied Bart, smiling.
Hans’ clapped him on the back. That was reasonably quick thinking. Maybe he had some brains after all. ‘Yes, nothing to worry about,’ he agreed, restraining himself from adding something brutally masculine.
Jesus Christ on a cracker biscuit, this is getting harder by the second. He glanced quickly at Bart, who nodded sharply. He flung open the back door.
The small courtyard was blessedly empty, aside from the skip bin and a couple of full bin bags lying in front of it. Hans sighed with relief and looked up at the clouded night sky.
‘I don’t see anything,’ he muttered.
The moon’s coming out, said Bart. Look.
Hans sat on his haunches and stuck his nose in the air. Where is she?
I’ll have a look from up here. It’s safer anyway.
He turned his head just as Bart scrambled up the drainpipe. Oh look at you go. You’re very good at that. And, look at me go. I’m not chasing you.
Congratulations, said the possum testily. Your roof has got wiggles in it.
Wiggles in it? It’s called corrugation you… Never mind. Oh look at that moon,’ Hans sang.
Your singing voice leaves a lot to be desired, said the possum, hanging onto the sloping tin grimly.
One of Hans ears flicked. The back door had just opened. A small tortoiseshell cat stood on the doorstep. large green eyes staring at him. It hissed. He growled, then went into overdrive.
CAT. Cat-cat-cat. Cat. Cat. Cat-cat-cat-cat-cat.
Who’s that, squeaked Bart worriedly from the roof.
Doooooooooog, yowled the cat, arching its back, tail fluffing up like a toilet brush.
Cat? The questioning voice came from the alleyway where another dog had appeared. Its eyes were very blue and its coat shone white under the moonlight.
Solway? Hans said. Look. Cat.
Solway! Chittered Bart happily. Hello beautiful. Please control your brother. I think he’s going to eat Shane. He grabbed at the guttering to stop himself from sliding off.
Is that Shianne, asked Solway. She sat and cocked her head inquisitively. She’s really pretty.
Fuck offfffffffff, the cat hissed.
Look at you, you feisty feline, growled Hans. Sorry I’m a dog. I apologise in advance but I’m not going to be half as polite as I have been all day. Which leg do you want to lose first? He walked stiff-legged towards the cat.
Hans, whined Solway. I like cats. Please don’t eat the cat.
I’m going to do something really terrible and regret it very shortly, said the cat. She leapt at Hans head (I have just realised how terrible this sounds).
The moon disappeared.
‘Oh shit,’ said Shianne.
‘Please get off me,’ said Hans
Solway started laughing just as the guttering on the side of the building came down with an almighty crash.
‘Sorry,’ said Bart calmly from beneath the horizontal drainpipe. ‘I don’t think it was made for this.’
‘When Shane gets off my head,’ said Hans in a muffled voice. ‘I’ll send you the bill.’
Eventually, after Shane had stopped kneading his chest and purring apologies (which Hans rather enjoyed) he lifted himself from the concrete and surveyed the area.
Bart had extracted himself from under the ruined drainpipe and stood next to Solway, trying to curl one leg around her, which she seemed to be rather used to. Shane stood next to him, blinking slowly.
‘I think I understand why I don’t like you,’ she said.
‘I know I understand why I don’t like you,’ Hans replied. ‘But, if I remember correctly, you seemed to like me quite a lot when we first met.’
Solway gently removed Bart’s leg from around her waist (he seemed quite agile) and stared at them both.
‘This is the woman from Carbarettas,’ she exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘I thought you would have figured it out,’ Hans said grumplily.
‘Why the hell would I have figured it out? A lot of people attach themselves to you.’
‘So… You don’t think it’s a coincidence Shane turned up here then?’ he growled.
Solway frowned at him then looked at Shane. ‘Shianne, you live locally, right?’
‘Yes I do,’ Shane replied. ‘I’ve been looking for work in the area for weeks. I don’t have a car yet either, so I’m walking or catching the bus. It just seemed sensible to try to find work nearby.’ She licked her hand and smoothed back her hair then scowled. ‘Am I going to be doing this cat thing very often? It’s really not conducive to getting employment.’
‘Ha!’ Hans folded his arms. ‘You see. You don’t want to work here at all.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘Yes I do,’ Shane hissed. ‘But I think, after attacking the big boss, I’m not likely to keep my job, am I?’
They glared at each other.
Fennel peered out through the back door. ‘What’s going on? I’ve been sitting in the restaurant for the last fifteen minutes drinking Cognac and complaining to myself, which is extremely boring, let me tell you, and wondering where the hell everyone went.’
Shane straightened her trousers and tucked in her shirt. ‘I’ll get back to it,’ she said softly, and picked up an overflowing bin bag.
‘I’ll give you a hand out here,’ Solway said, giving Hans her best squinty-eyed stare. ‘Why don’t you and Bart go and drink your bloody Cognac with Fennel and leave us to it.’
Hans knew when he was being dismissed, but he certainly didn’t appreciate Solway treating him like that in front of the staff.
‘I’m going back inside with Bart and Fennel,’ he said grandly. ‘Why don’t you help Shane with the bins, like the good sister you are.’
Fennel sighed and Bart looked slightly pained.
Solway just laughed and shook her head. ‘Come in Shianne. While we’re out here, let me tell you alllll about my brother.’
Hans didn’t wait to hear any more. He went back inside.
^^_____O_____^^
Sometimes, Hans thought to himself. I am under the distinct impression other people are writing my “life story” for me.
‘So you said that out loud,’ said Fennel conversationally. ‘Another drink?’
‘Can we please not drink Cognac anymore,’ asked Bart. ‘I think it’s going to give me a terrible headache.’
‘I already have a terrible headache,’ said Hans. ‘Which has nothing to do with you two, and everything to do with those two women sitting out the back and talking about me.’
‘They might not be talking about you,’ said Fennel.
‘When someone says they are going to talk about you, I think it’s fairly clear they are going to talk about you,’ said Hans. ‘So you know, there’s that.’ He swigged the last of his Cognac. ‘Do we have Bourbon?’
‘I like Bourbon,’ said Bart. ‘Less chance of me ringing people up I don’t know for no reason other than to say what the fuck am I saying?’
Hans glanced at him moodily. ‘The lizard is still here, isn’t she.’
‘Who,’ asked Fennel.
‘Oh dear,’ said Bart. ‘Gremlins, Fennel. You know, like the movie.’
‘Never seen it,’ said Fennel. ‘What’s that about?’
Hans snarled to himself and tried not to bite his own leg. ‘Fuck my life.’
‘What the hell are you doing,’ asked Fennel.
‘Controlling myself from asking why there are bits of food all over the table,’ said Hans airily. ‘Care to explain?’
‘Oh, you noticed.’ Fennel had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. ‘I can’t explain it actually. I don’t know exactly what happened. I figured it was the Cognac going to my head. It’s been a long day dammit.’
‘Before this goes any further,’ said Hans, finally remembering he was the bloody restaurant manager tonight. ‘Where the hell are Gretal and the sous chef?’
‘You mean Rhoda,’ said Fennel.
‘I know exactly who I mean,’ snarled Hans.
‘Okay. Well, I’m going to go and do something about bin bags,’ said Bart. ‘Don’t bother asking if you can help me because you can’t, and I also need to see what can be done with drainpipes and whether I’m actually capable of fixing one by myself.’
‘What happened to the drainpipe,’ asked Fennel.
‘It fucking rained a lot, that’s what,’ growled Hans. ‘Thirty year storm.’ He congratulated himself silently and felt like looking in a mirror.
‘I don’t think it rained that much,’ argued Fennel.
‘I’m off then,’ said Bart. ‘Not that anyone cares.’ He stood at the end of the table looking slightly dejected.
‘Byeeeee,’ said Hans.
‘You’re a prick,’ said Fennel as Bart walked away slowly looking hopefully over his shoulder.
‘You’re probably a mouse,’ said Hans. ‘So there.’
‘That’s it. I’m getting the Bourbon,’ said Fennel.
‘It’s about fucking time,’ said Hans. ‘Get the tequila and some shot glasses while you’re there.’
He was really fucking glad it was Monday tomorrow and someone, more specifically himself, believed in the tradition of not opening on a Monday.
to be continued.
Chapter Ten continued (and a bit more) –Untitled
‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ Solway said to him fifteen minutes later. ‘You can tell her she’s just not the right fit, or something.’
‘I feel like I’d be going off a thought process that may not even be true,’ Hans replied.
‘I think you should give her a chance,’ said Fennel. ‘I’ve worked with her, remember. She’s pleasant, she does everything she’s asked, and she has scrubbed that kitchen from top to bottom. There’s really nothing to complain about, except her attitude.’
‘Yes exactly. The attitude. We haven’t had a chance to check this out either.’ Hans waved the resume in the air. ‘It’s Sunday, it’s her third day, and we can’t get hold of any of this information until during the week.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Fennel. ‘I don’t know what’s going on though aside from a personality clash, and really mate, it’s not hard to have a personality clash with you.’
‘What?’
Bart, the arsehole, had started laughing. Hans glared at him, and he took a quick slug of his beer. Solway wasn’t laughing though, thank God. At least someone was on his side.
‘You people do not understand what we’ve been through,’ she said.
‘Exactly,’ said Hans.
‘You’ll have to excuse me for being blunt,’ said Fennel. ‘But you’re not fucking royalty.’
‘Give me another fucking Cognac,’ said Hans. ‘And that was very blunt, you prick.’
‘Do you always let your staff talk to you like that,’ asked Solway.
‘We passed that point a few weeks ago when we started on this bottle,’ Hans replied honestly. ‘Fennel could almost be my work wife.’
Fennel started laughing, as did Bart. Solway looked stricken.
‘You’re not gay are you,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t be an idiot Sol. I know you’d still love me if I was, but you really need to pull your knickers out of your arse.’
‘You wanker.’
‘See. You love me anyway.’ Hans sat back and skolled his drink. ‘This is still shit Fennel.’
The chef nodded.
‘I don’t have a choice in the loving you department, arsehole,’ Solway interrupted them, snatching the glass from Hans. ‘You’re my brother. Fill this up for me Fennel?’
‘With pleasure,’ the chef replied, pouring for her.
‘Well, now I’m bored.’ Hans stared at the ceiling and tried not to howl. Christ, that had come back quickly. He cleared his throat. ‘I need to… I’ll be back in a sec.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Bart. Hans looked at him. He didn’t look comfortable either.
‘Don’t girls do that,’ Fennel called after them as they left the table.
Hans glanced at him over his shoulder. ‘If they did mate, you’d be coming with me instead.’
He and Bart marched rapidly across the dining room heading for the toilets.
‘She’s here,’ muttered Bart.
Hans knew exactly what he meant. ‘I know.’
to be continued…
Chapter Ten continued — untitled
Apparently Fennel had allowed them to turn the radio up in the kitchen. Hans shook his head at the distant thumping and threw himself into the chair opposite Bart.
‘So, you and my sister huh.’
Bart looked confused. ‘It’s been two years, Hans.’
‘Yeah well. There you go then.’ Hans sighed. This small talk business wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Where the fuck was Fennel and that cognac?
Solway nudged him with an elbow. ‘So, about the tiny person.’
‘Don’t start.’
‘She’s very cute.’
‘She’s Canerican.’
‘A what now?’ She turned to Bart. ‘Do you know what that is?’
Bart shrugged. He looked confused. Excellent.
‘We can’t quite pick the accent,’ said Hans. He smiled.
Solway grimaced at him. ‘Enlighten me, stupid.’
Hans growled. ‘I made it up, okay? Which proves I’m not stupid, just so ya know. Bloody hell, Sol, can you give me a bloody break?’
‘So…? What does it meeeeeeean?’
‘Canadian or American, or something.’ Hans sighed dramatically. Why the hell did she not get the joke?
‘Couldn’t you tell from her resume? Or a passport? Or something? Won’t she need to fill out paperwork?’
‘I don’t do that stuff.’ He waved a hand airily.
‘Then who hired her?’
‘I did.’
She gave an exasperated sounding noise that reminded him of a kettle boiling. ‘Did anyone look at her resume?’
‘Ah Fennel!” Hans grinned and leapt up to grab the bottle from the weary chef’s hand. ‘Just in time. Did you bring glasses?’
Fennel sighed. ‘No, I didn’t. I’ll get some now.’
‘Never mind, I’ll do it. Back in a tick.’ Hans left as quickly as he could.
‘You are not getting away with this you bloody coward,’ Solway called after him.
Hans looked down at his swiftly moving feet. ‘Looks like I am though,’ he muttered under his breath.
He decided he’d give the glasses an extra polish while he was there. With a bit of luck. Fennel would be answering all of Solway’s questions right about now, and when he got back to the table they could finish the cognac.
Gretal was still folding the tablecloths.
‘I thought you were sitting with your friends,’ she said.
‘I am.’ He smiled. ‘I was merely escaping for a short moment because my sister was asking me questions I couldn’t answer.’
‘That’s your sister? Oh that makes sense.’ Gretal looked over at the table. ‘She’s very pretty.’
‘Thanks. She’s very clever too, which I tend to forget at the most inopportune moments.’ He sighed.
‘I think we’ve all got a brother or sister like that.’ Gretal grinned at him. ‘Sorry. Was that too personal?’
‘That’s alright. I think we can relax the rules for one night. I’m very proud of my sister, so moments like these are very special to me.’ He grabbed a couple of glasses and cleared his throat. ‘It’s probably good if the staff know who my family are anyway. It stops the rumours from flying.’
The waiter blushed. ‘I might have something to apologise about.’
Hans shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You might have, yes. I’ll let it go this time. I will say one thing before you explain it to your friends in the kitchen.’ He winked. ‘This is the reason we don’t talk about personal things. It’s a perfect example, don’t you think?’
She frowned slightly. ‘I suppose… but, if we’d known, wouldn’t that have prevented it from happening in the first place?’
‘Are you making excuses?’
‘No, but…’
‘Lesson one.’ Hans smiled. ‘Be discreet. It’s part of our job, okay? When you’re at work, don’t discuss the customers, don’t speculate about them, don’t stare at them — especially when they can see you. It’s none of your business. We are just here to make things go smoothly, and give them the best dining experience. That’s our job and our reputation. I can’t stress this enough.’
‘Okay. But…’
‘I understand what you’re thinking and believe me, if I think my staff knowing something about someone they’re serving is going to make it better for the person they’re serving, then I would absolutely let you all know. Okay?’
‘Okay. I suppose things could go badly if the wrong information about someone got out.’
‘Things could go wrong if the right information got out too,’ Hans said softly. ‘Not only have I experienced it personally, I’ve seen it with other people. So has my sister. I wouldn’t want the same thing happening to you. So… Me having faith in you guys to be professional while they’re here is something I don’t want to regret. Alright?’
‘Got it.’ Gretal folded the last of the tablecloths. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Hans smirked and shook his head. ‘No problem. I’m going to give you a few minutes to talk to the guys in the kitchen. After that, I’m coming in and we’re going to talk about the next most important thing.’
Gretal gave him a wide-eyed stare. ‘Is it bad?’
‘No. But it’s in your best interest, and the best interest of the people you are working with. Off you go.’
He gave her five minutes. It was more than enough time. Going into the kitchen was like entering a warzone of words.
‘Nobody tells me anything,’ Shane was squeaking as he walked in. ‘I should have known!’
‘I beg your pardon,’ Hans asked.
‘Oh.’ At least she looked a little contrite. It didn’t last long. ‘If you’d just told me…’ she said.
‘If I’d just told you what?’ This sounded interesting. Why had she decided it was her business?
‘Never mind.’ She began filling a mop bucket with water, effectively cutting off any further conversation.
Hans realised at that point how many deep breaths he’d taken in the last half an hour. He decided he wouldn’t start counting them because he’d probably give himself a nervous tic. Shaking his head he stepped over to the sink and turned off the tap. She glared at him and turned it back on.
‘Don’t,’ he said softly. This lady was really pushing his buttons.
She froze. Hallelujah. The bloody woman was listening for a change. Let’s see how long that lasts, he thought to himself.
‘I’m assuming Gretal has updated you all on my “current relationship”,’ he announced to the world in general.
Gretal snorted. He tried not to roll his eyes.
‘I’ll take that as a yes. Right, next thing. You already know this,’ he added to the sous chef and Gretal. ‘But I’ll repeat it for Shane’s sake.’
‘Shianne,’ said Shane, and Gretal snorted again.
Bloody hell, thought Hans. Have I walked into a piggery? ‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘This is for all of you, and especially you Shane, if you are going to continue working with us.’
She opened her mouth and he held up a warning finger.
‘Can you just not talk for a few minutes.’
The sous chef started making a weird cackling sound. Okay, not a piggery. More of a farmyard. She sounded like a bloody chicken.
‘As you may have noticed,’ he said to Shane. ‘People in the hospitality industry are slightly insane. In a good way,’ he added hurriedly as she began to frown. ‘Anyway, I’d like to get to my point if you could all control yourselves. Please.’
That shut them all up, for a moment at least. ‘I’m going to say this really quickly before you all turn into raving lunatics. If you guys ever have a problem with any other staff members, or with one of our patrons behaving inappropriately or rudely towards yourselves, please let me or your immediate superior know know as soon as you can. This is really important, okay? If you can sort it out yourselves, then great. As long as no one draws blood I’m happy. I’m joking. I do mean this though because you all have the right to feel safe in your work environment, and if you don’t for any reason then we should be hearing about it. It does not mean…,’ He glared at Shane. ‘… that you should be complaining because someone looked at you the wrong way or has told you off for not doing your job, okay?’
She didn’t say anything, which was probably quite fortunate.
‘Good. Now you can all be idiots together. I’m going to spend time with my sister. Bye.’
Hans straightened his collar, smoothed back his hair, and left the kitchen. On the walk down the hall he checked himself in the mirror. Perfect. The radio in the kitchen sounded like it had been turned up yet another notch, probably due to the rain on the roof, and someone decided to start singing loudly and off-key.
Hopefully it would be a good ending to a bad afternoon. Hans put his hands in his pockets and crossed his eyes. The more interactions he had with the staff around here, the more obvious it had become he needed to get the restaurant manager’s position filled. He snatched up the polished glasses on the way back through to the dining room and deposited them next to Fennel.
‘Is Shane’s resume and information still in the office?’
‘It’s Shee-ann,’ said Fennel. Clearly he’d been trained by the crazy woman in the kitchen on how to say her name. ‘Yes, I left it in the top drawer. Is something bothering you?’
‘Quite a lot is bothering me,’ Hans replied. ‘You’re right, Sol,’ he said patting his sister’s shoulder as he passed her. ‘Something is definitely going on and I don’t think it’s what you think it is.’
Solway put down her fork and gave him a concerned look. ‘Is she one of those?’
‘Let me get that information first and then we’ll decide.’ He turned back to the chef. ‘Fennel, I’ll definitely need that drink.’
Fennel had already taken off the lid. ‘I’m on it.’
to be continued…
Chapter Ten — Untitled.
By the time his sister and her partner were ready for mains the other diners had departed. It looked like it was going to be a very early night. It had also started to rain.
Hans stood in front of the glass, peering out into the carpark. This place needed a garden or something in front of it, to give it a bit more ambience or whatever that word was that made things look better. It would be much nicer than looking at bitumen.
He and Gretal had cleared the other tables, and she was now off putting the tablecloths in the washer dryer he’d purchased for the restaurant last week. He sighed. Fennel loved the bloody thing so hopefully the purchase would redeem itself at some point. If not, he supposed they’d just go back to hiring the laundry service, and he’d give the damn thing to Solway.
‘This tarragon sauce is amazing,’ she said from behind him.
‘That’s good,’ he replied distantly. Puddles had started to form in the carpark and were reflecting the overhead lights.
‘Are you going to sit down,’ asked Bart. ‘Looks pretty quiet?’
He turned around. They looked right together, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. ‘Just give me a minute,’ he replied. ‘I need to go to the kitchen.’
Solway widened her eyes at him around a mouthful of pork.
‘Stop it, Sol. I’ll be back in a tick.’
He passed Gretal on the way through. She carried an armful of tablecloths.
‘Can I fold these behind the bar tonight,’ she asked.
‘Sounds good.’
‘Are you okay?’
He frowned. ‘I am, thank you. I think we’ll call it.’
‘We still have patrons.’ She looked over at Solway and Bart.
‘They’re with me, if you didn’t notice.’ He smiled. ‘It’s raining, Gretal. We can get onto all the other things you need to learn sooner than you thought.’
‘Alright then. Thank you Hans.’
Hans nodded, smoothed back his hair and kept walking. ‘No problem. Fennel!’
Fennel looked up from whatever he was covering at the stainless steel bench. ‘Are you calling it?’
‘I am, yes. We only have one table left, and they’re with me.’ He could hear the rain on the roof in here, so there’d be no point in mentioning it.
‘Makes sense. It’s starting to bucket down,’ said Fennel, glancing at the ceiling. ‘Are your people having dessert?’
‘I can cover that. Think you can start on cleanup? Who’ve we got left?’
Fennel glanced over at the sink. Shane had begun tackling the pots and the sous chef was stacking the sink behind her. ‘One of you two can go home. Which one is it going to be?’
‘I’ll stay,’ said Shane.
The sous chef didn’t look very happy about that.
‘You’re working for free, remember?’ Hans frowned at her. He didn’t want this woman messing with the existing staff.
‘Doesn’t that make sense? How late do you usually open on Sundays?’ She looked pointedly at the clock on the kitchen wall. It had only just gone seven thirty.
‘Not that late,’ Hans replied. Why did he feel like snapping at her every time she spoke?
The sous chef stayed quiet. She knew this was an early call too, but was far too clever to say anything.
‘You’re the boss, Hans. What would you like to do,’ Fennel asked.
The Shane woman looked stricken. ‘You’re the what?’
‘The boss,’ Fennel said gently. ‘He owns the place. And several others besides. It’s highly possible I should have mentioned this earlier.’ He didn’t look in the least bit remorseful.
‘Figure it out amongst yourselves,’ Hans growled. He took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. But, I’d like to take some time with the people out there.’ He nodded towards the restaurant. ‘Fennel. Where’s that bottle?’
Fennel gave him a wink. ‘I’ll get it for you shortly. Might even join you, if that’s alright. I think I’ll clock off myself and leave these two to clean up the kitchen.’
‘Finally, a good idea.’ Hans had had quite enough of these people for one night. ‘See you shortly.’
‘Right then,’ Fennel said loudly as he exited the room. I’m giving you a list. Put your hearing aids in.’
That made Hans grin, even if only for a moment. He wondered if he should get Bart another beer.
to be continued…
Chapter Nine– continued (still Sunday)
Solway appeared to be approaching him across the room. Hans tried not to smile. She still had it. Apparently, the other patrons of the restaurant had noticed that too, as had his waiter, Gretal, who blushed furiously when he cocked an eyebrow at her. She knew the drill, and would not be asking any personal questions.
He glanced pointedly at table four and back at Gretal, who left to see them reluctantly.
‘I’ve got your drinks here,’ he said when Solway reached him. ‘What’s up?’
‘Something’s going on. I’m running on instinct and something is definitely wrong here.’ She held up a hand. ‘Don’t talk, little brother, just listen. I don’t know why you’re reacting the way you are to us or anybody else, but I’m thinking it’s pack mentality. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I’m not a complete moron.’ He was beginning to find it hard to think again.
‘I’m going to check out the kitchen,’ she said, looking at him carefully. ‘Can I do that?’
‘You could poke your head in there I guess, but don’t get in anyone’s way. I’m sure they already know you’re here.’
‘How’s that?’ She looked curious now.
‘I noticed Gretal sneaking off the first time I came over to see you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Wow, this is hard. You need to get away from me. I’m starting to lose it.’
‘I’m not though. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ She stared at him. ‘I can’t read you.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t read you. I’m not getting any vibes off you, thought-wise. Never mind. Can you take the drinks over to Bart? He’ll order for us.’
Hans sighed. ‘Sure, Sol. That’s my job. Please don’t upset anyone.’
She winked over her shoulder as she started the walk down the short hall. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’
He sighed again. This time it was much deeper. These people had no idea who Solway and Bart were, and they had no idea of their relationship to him. He’d experienced this before. ‘Just go with it,’ he muttered to himself as he lifted the tray. ‘Just go with it.’
Solway poked her head around the kitchen door, not entering, just as Hans had told her to do. The chef glanced over his shoulder at the movement, then turned around.
‘Can I help you?’
He seemed nice enough, for a chef. Not that she’d had too much to do with chefs but she’d heard some interesting stories from Hans about them over the years.
‘I’m with Hans,’ she explained.
‘Alright? Did you need to see anything, or is there something I could help you with?’
‘That’s very accomodating of you, but we don’t work together.’ She smiled. It was obviously what he’d thought.
‘Oh. Okay. Just doing a little private tour then?’ The chef’s mouth turned up at the corners. He seemed friendly enough.
‘Is that okay?’
‘Sure.’ He glanced down at her feet. ‘Don’t come in too far. You’re not really dressed for it and he’s already gone off at someone today.’
That was when Solway noticed the little kitchen-hand, who had turned around and was staring at her in a very odd way.
Well this is interesting, she thought.
‘I’m Solway, by the way,’ she said to the chef.
‘Fennel. I’d shake your hand but I’m kind of busy.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled.
‘That’s okay. Can I just watch for a while?’
‘Doesn’t bother me at all.’ He smiled again. As long as you don’t ask too many personal questions.’
‘You’ve been working with Hans too long,’ Solway laughed. She’d almost said “brother” but for some reason restrained herself. It probably had something to do with the teeny tiny kitchen-hand. There was some serious moodiness coming from that direction. The other staff looked a little curious, but that one… she was something else again.
‘I probably have,’ replied Fennel, bringing her back to herself. ‘He’s a good man, but he needs to get back to what he should be doing.’
‘Oh?’ Solway frowned.
‘He’s been with us for over a month now.’
She must have looked confused. She certainly felt that way.
‘Every day,’ he added.
‘Oh!’ That didn’t sound good. ‘Have you lost some people?’
Fennel’s eyes narrowed and he turned back to the stove. ‘He hasn’t spoken with you then. I might have overstepped.’
‘It’s okay,’ Solway replied. ‘I’ll ask him myself. I’m just so used to seeing him doing his thing I didn’t even think it was unusual.’ She crossed her arms and leant against the door jamb, trying not to frown. Hans was running several restaurants and needed to be checking in on all of them at least once during the week to make sure standards weren’t dropping. Staying in one place would not be helping him run the business at all.
The chef looked slightly relieved as he flicked a tea towel over his shoulder. ‘Did you want to try some of this sauce?’
‘Well, of course I do,’ Solway smiled.
She glanced at the kitchen-hand again. The way her head was angled suggested she had been listening very carefully and that glare Solway had received upon first entering had been quite “odd”. The woman hadn’t tried to hide it and the only reason this could be happening was because she had the hots for Hans.
What an interesting situation indeed.
‘Why hello there,’ said Solway brightly. ‘How are you?’
Fennel shot a quick glance at her and then at the kitchen-hand. Solway heard him sigh.
The tiny person turned around and put down the tea-towel she’d been holding, which was when Hans decided to ruin everything. He poked his head over her shoulder, making her jump, and she turned, nearly bumping noses with her brother.
‘What are you doing,’ he hissed.
‘I’m meeting the staff. Why?’
‘Has she been bothering you Fennel?’
‘Not me,’ said Fennel.
Hans frowned. ‘Come on maggot, let’s get you back to the table.’
‘You are no fun at all,’ muttered Solway as he escorted her from the kitchen. ‘Wnho’s the person at the sink?’
‘The new kitchen hand?’
‘Yes. The tiniest woman in the world is doing your dishes.’
Hans laughed once, quite loudly as he sat her back down next to Bart. ‘She’s not that small.’
‘OOoOOOOOhhhhh.’ Solway grinned at him. ‘Have we got the hots for someone?’
‘I’m working you idiot.’
‘Bart. Hans has got the hots for someone.’ Solway grinned toothily at her partner.
‘No, I don’t.’ Hans said calmly. ‘Stop it. You aren’t going to get me into trouble, obviously, but you are going to set off the rumour mill if you keep this up.’
‘Yay.’ Solway clapped her hands.
Bart frowned at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before.’
Hans glanced at him. ‘I haven’t seen it for quite a few years myself, but she was usually right about something, which…’ He glared at Solway. ‘…We are not going to discuss now. Alright?’
‘Fine.’ She felt like pouting but she didn’t. ‘You need a replacement for you-know-who though, and it’s been a long time.’
‘Not now, I said.’ Hans stepped back from the table. ‘Drink your water. I’m bringing over some appetisers for you as soon as they’re ready.’ He scowled. ‘Which should be now.’
Solway watched him leave. She was pretty sure he was trying not to stomp.
‘Ahem,’ said Bart.
‘Ahem?’ She giggled.
‘Tell me what’s going on.’
‘You’re going to love this.’ Solway leaned across the table. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve noticed this, Bart, but my brother is slightly good looking.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ he said dryly. ‘We’ve been together a while now.’
‘What? That makes it sound like you’ve been with my brother for a while. Should I be jealous?’ Solway laughed.
Bart smiled. ‘You know I didn’t mean that. Why the heck, and I’m not complaining mind, I’m just curious, are you acting like someone in their twenties?’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘I suppose that’s when he started getting all that attention. I would have been around twenty five and looking at changing careers, so he’d have to be around twenty.’
‘Okay? Explain it to me. I’m very curious about the way your mind is working at the moment.’
‘What happens is he sometimes gets really pissed off that people notice him, and sometimes he gets really pissed off they don’t. Sometimes, back then, if I was there, people seemed to get really pissed off with both of us. I am seriously sounding like a kid right now.’
‘Why would people get pissed off with the both of you though?’ Bart looked confused. ‘That doesn’t make any sense at all.’
Oh stop lying. How did you feel when you first met my brother?’
‘Ohhh.’ Bart remembered it well. ‘I was jealous, okay? I don’t know why. I hoped to God he was your brother, but it was like… It’s hard to explain.’
‘There we go. I suppose it’s some kind of instinctive thing, like you feel you need to compete. But, guess what…’ She couldn’t help herself. There was a big giggle inside and it was going to come out very soon.
‘What,’ asked Bart.
‘The leprechaun in the kitchen doesn’t know we’re related yet.’
‘The leprechaun in the kitchen? What the hell are you talking about?’
Solway swore the sound Bart started making was like a jiggler on top of a slow cooker. It made her own cackling louder.
‘There’s a staff member in the kitchen who looks like she wants to murder me.’
Bart stopped jiggling and looked confused. Then his face cleared and he slapped the table.
‘Ha! That’s what you’re talking about! This is awesome. We could sell tickets!’
‘I know!’
‘I hope you two are enjoying yourselves, acting like teenagers.’ Hans stood over them with two very well presented plates. ‘I really don’t want to kick you out, but I will if I need to.’
That very possibly made them both laugh a little louder than they should have.
‘Another beer, my good man,’ Bart said bravely.
‘Make it two,’ said Solway.
‘Fuck my life,’ said Hans.
Kate Capewell - Ambrosia Wishes 