Guinea Pigs Online (5 page)

8

What’s on the Menu?

E
duardo looked doubtful, but if she wasn’t sure before, Coco knew the moment she stepped from the red carpet into the crowded restaurant that Her Majesty was expected. Ladies with swept-up hair looked lovely in long velvet dresses; gentlemen with
polished shoes and crisp dark suits chatted politely; waitresses circled around the tables with trays of nibbles and drinks. Coco sighed. She wished she’d brought her tiara. It was just like being back in the dining room at the Palace when the Ambassador came! Best of all, the sound of beautiful music washed over her like a warm bubble bath. An elegant lady in a long dress was plinking away at a perfectly tuned harp.

“One used to play rather well,” she confided to Eduardo, secretly hoping to impress him, “but one is a little out
of practice these days.”

Eduardo gazed at her in amazement. “Holy guacamole, señorita, if you don’t mind me saying so, you are one crazy cavy!”

Coco didn’t mind being called “cavy,” because it was a posh name for guinea pig.

Eduardo had scampered to the side
of the room and was making his way stealthily toward the window in the shadow of the baseboard. He stopped and waved at her. “
Vamos
” he hissed. “Hurry. Let’s go.”

Coco hesitated, then scurried after him, stopping just for a tiny moment in front of a long gilt mirror to check her whiskers. One always had to look one’s best for royalty. “Where are you going?” She panted crossly, catching up with him eventually. “We should be lining up.”

Eduardo raised a shaggy eyebrow. “Lining up? What for?”

Coco couldn’t believe he didn’t know. “With the other guests!” The crowd had begun to form two lines on either side of the door. “When the Queen arrives, she greets everyone.”

“Very nice,” Eduardo scratched his head. “What do
we
do,” he said, looking up at the nearest table, “while she’s doing that?”

“I curtsy; you bow!” Coco was beside herself. Eduardo didn’t seem to know anything. The Queen would be here any minute.

“OK.” Eduardo took a running jump at the curtains. “Show me later.”

“Later?” squealed Coco, appalled.

“After I get the menu.” He caught hold of the curtain tie and started swinging higher and higher until eventually he threw himself through the air on to the gleaming white tablecloth.

“Don’t spoil the napkins!” Coco wailed.

“Don’t worry, señorita, they still look like swans.” Eduardo poked his nose over the edge and grinned at her. “The food doesn’t look so good though,” he said, waving the menu at her and pulling a face.

“What do you mean?”

“I like the sound of the vegetable soup,” he said, folding the corners of the menu over to make an airplane, “but the main course makes me sick.” He climbed astride the menu and glided down beside her, pointing at it grimly. “Read it, señorita.”

“‘
Conejillo de Indias
,’” Coco said slowly, struggling with the unfamiliar words. “‘Pan-fried or grilled to your liking.’ Is it fish?” she asked, looking up. “I’m not keen on fish either,” she confided.

“No, señorita,” Eduardo said, rummaging around in his satchel, “it’s
not fish. ‘
Conejillo de Indias
’ is Spanish for guinea pig.”

Guinea pig?!
Coco’s mouth fell open. She’d been so excited about seeing the Queen, she’d forgotten all about Fuzzy. At least, she hadn’t quite forgotten all about Fuzzy, but she hadn’t quite remembered him either. That is to say, she’d
almost remembered him, but just as she was about to, she’d gotten in a muddle because of the red carpet and the perfectly tuned harp and the thought of the Ambassador. But even if she hadn’t got in a muddle and she had remembered Fuzzy, she’d never have believed anyone, not even Scarlet Cleaver, would have the nerve to serve up her best friend to the Queen as a main course—pan-fried
or
grilled. It was scandalous.

“Well?” Eduardo was looking at her questioningly.

“Well, what is one waiting for?”
Coco said swiftly. “The kitchen’s over there.” She pointed to the swing doors where the waitresses zipped in and out with trays. “
Vamos
.”

Before Eduardo could reply, she started to weave her way through the table legs.
Guinea pig!
Coco thought of Fuzzy. She thought of all the other stolen guinea pigs Terry had found out about on the computer, including Ken from Kensington’s mum and dad. Scarlet Cleaver was about to serve them up for dinner. Coco was sure Her Majesty would understand just this once if she didn’t stand in line and curtsy.

The swing doors flew open. Waiting until the waitress had clattered past in her high heels, Coco dodged through, closely followed by Eduardo, who grabbed her and pulled her safely over to the wall.

It took Coco a moment or two to get used to the heat. It took her a moment or two after that to get used to the noise. Scarlet Cleaver’s kitchen was not at all like the Blisses’ kitchen, she realized. The Blisses’ kitchen was calm and cozy, with blue tiles and red-check tea towels, Fuzzy humming along to tunes on
Radio 2. Scarlet Cleaver’s kitchen was full of bright white light and steel surfaces. Steam whooshed from frying pans. A small army of white-coated men and women chopped vegetables and scrubbed dishes while tall-hatted chefs shouted at them to do it faster.

In the center of the chaos a tall pale woman with long dark hair stood silently looking at her watch. She wore a tight red dress that swept to the floor and her lips were the color of blood. In one hand she held a gleaming chopping knife.

Coco shivered. It was Scarlet Cleaver.

“Silence!” the woman shouted suddenly.

The room was still.

“Her Majesty will be here in precisely three and a half minutes,” she announced sharply. “And as you know, the Queen is never late.”

Everyone nodded, including Coco. “It’s true, you know,” she whispered to Eduardo, who clapped his hand over her mouth to shut her up.

“Allowing for the greeting, curtsying, bowing, sitting down, roll and butter and vegetable soup,” Scarlet Cleaver continued, “that gives us approximately twelve minutes to prepare the main dish for cooking.” She clapped her hands. “Well, what
are you waiting for?” she barked. “Go and get them!”

Two men ran off. Seconds later they reappeared pushing a metal trolley laden with cages.

“
Caramba!
” Eduardo whistled softly.

Every single cage was full of terrified guinea pigs of all shapes, sizes and varieties.

Scarlet Cleaver raised her chopping knife with a ghastly smile. “Just how I like my ingredients,” she said, unlocking a cage at random and reaching into it, “Nice and fresh.”

She grabbed the first guinea pig by the scruff of its neck and pulled it out of its cage.

It was round and brown and fat, with a white crest on its forehead.

Coco recognized him at once.

“It’s Fuzzy!” she squealed. “For goodness sake, Eduardo, do something!”

9

To the Rescue

E
duardo made a terrifying noise. It was a low, throaty moan, like the noise a car engine makes when it’s about to break down.

Scarlet Cleaver heard the noise and looked round, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Before
she had time to trace the noise to the floor and to the two little guinea pigs at her feet, Eduardo had whipped off his satchel, chucked it down, flung himself at her high-heeled, rose-red strappy sandals and started to bite her toes.

“Coco, get the skeleton keys!” he gasped. “Let them out!”

Coco could barely hear him because his voice was drowned by a piercing scream. It was coming out of Scarlet’s blood-red mouth.

“Aarrrggh! One of them’s escaped!” Scarlet cursed, lifting her skirt and
kicking. “Get it off of me!”

Somehow, Eduardo clung on.

Scarlet let go of Fuzzy and he fell out of her hand.

Luckily Coco was just beneath him. She quickly curled herself up into a ball so that he could land as comfortably as he would on the squashy cushion (but
without
spoiling her perfect little nose or bending her whiskers).
PLUMP!
He
plopped down safely on to her furry back.

“GET IT OFF!” Scarlet repeated furiously, wriggling her ankles and stamping her feet, trying desperately to dislodge Eduardo. She looked as if she was doing a special dance. One of the chefs started to laugh. Scarlet Cleaver reached out with one of
her hands and slapped him across the face. “Don’t just stand there. Do something, you idiot!”

“Fuzzy!” Coco shouted once he had rolled off her back. “Help me with these keys!”

“Coco, it’s you!” Fuzzy exclaimed. “How did you know where to find me?”

“It’s a long story,” panted Coco, opening up the satchel, “but basically it was the computer. Terry—Banoffee’s son, the one with the wool hat—logged on and we figured it out. We discovered that lots of guinea pigs had
gone missing and that Scarlet Cleaver had stolen them.” She didn’t mention the part about the fox. She’d already learned her lesson.

“Amazing!” said Fuzzy. “I thought you hated computers. By the way, who’s your boyfriend?” He peered at Eduardo, who was holding on to Scarlet’s sandal for dear life as she swung her foot through the air. “I must say, he’s very brave.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Coco snapped, chucking him a key. “Though maybe . . . never mind that now. Quick! Let’s get them out.”

Fuzzy didn’t need any more instructions. He put the key between his teeth and raced toward the cages. Coco threw the satchel over her shoulder and scampered after him.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen swung open and the head waitress called out: “She’s here! The Queen is here.”

Eduardo let go of Scarlet’s toes and dashed along the floor to where Fuzzy and Coco crouched at the foot of the trolley.

“The soup!” Scarlet gasped, hobbling about. “It’s time to serve the
soup!” The chefs and sous-chefs turned back to the stoves and lifted their ladles like a well-regimented army. The assistants lifted one bowl at a time and the soup was neatly poured into them, then sprinkled with a little parsley. They placed the bowls in neat rows on the trays and then the waitresses picked up the trays and carried them out to the restaurant.

“How in the name of chickweed are we going to get up there?” Eduardo gazed up at the trolley’s slippery legs.

“We need the jump!” Fuzzy cried. “Quick, get that fork.” He pointed to a fork that was lying on the floor by the dishwasher. “We can use this to balance it on.” One of the waiters had dropped a crusty brown roll.

“The jump?” Eduardo repeated, puzzled, pushing the fork toward Fuzzy.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Fuzzy carefully positioned the fork on top of the bread roll. He sat on the sharp end. “Ready, Coco?”

“Ready.” Coco jumped on the flat end.

Fuzzy shot up and landed on the edge of the trolley.

“Wow!” Eduardo whistled in amazement. “Looks like I underestimated you domestic guinea pigs after all.”

Coco smiled. “It looks like you did,” she agreed. “Come on. We need to find a squashy cushion.”

“A squashy what?”

“Something soft to land on,” Coco explained.

“What about this?” Eduardo cried, pulling an old mop head out of the corner with his teeth.

“Perfect!” Coco helped him maneuver it into position. “OK, Fuzzy, send them down.”

One by one the freed guinea pigs dropped down onto the mop.

“Out the back door,” Eduardo shouted, “quick as you can.”

The guinea pigs didn’t need to be told twice. They scurried along the
edge of the kitchen as fast as they could, through the pantry, where they had been kept in their cages, and out the back door into the alley behind the restaurant.

Meanwhile Fuzzy was still hard at work with the keys. “I can’t reach the top cages,” he cried. “They’re too high and I can’t climb the wire!”

“If you want something done . . .” Coco preened her whiskers. She perched her bottom on the fork carefully, avoiding the prongs. “Bounce me up, Eduardo,” she ordered.

“There’s nothing you can do, señorita,” Eduardo said impatiently. “Like Fuzzy said, you cannot reach the cages. They are too high.”

“One said, bounce one up!” Coco demanded haughtily.

“Fine, fine, but one won’t be able to do nothing.” Eduardo bounced on the other end of the fork, catapulting Coco up onto the trolley beside Fuzzy.

She grabbed the key from his paws. “I’ll do the rest, Fuzzy. You jump down.”

“But . . .” Fuzzy protested.

Before he could say anything else,
Coco gave him a shove.
PLOP!
Fuzzy landed on the mop.

Placing the key between her teeth, Coco wriggled up the wires. I always knew playing the harp would come in handy one day, she thought to herself as she unlocked the cages and the doors swung back on their hinges.

A stream of guinea pigs descended onto the squashy mop.

Once she was sure they were all free, Coco dropped down after them.

Fuzzy scratched his head. “I guess the cages must have been open after all.”

“No, I let them out,” Coco said proudly. “One can climb, you know, as long as it isn’t too slippery.”

“Sure,” Eduardo said sarcastically. “And I can fly. Of course they were open. Now let’s go before that crazy
cooking chick comes back to kill us.”

Coco glared at him. How could anyone be so infuriating? she wondered.

“One is not going anywhere,” she announced. “Not until one has seen the Queen.” She peered into the shiny handle of the fork and grumbled to herself, “I knew I should have done my hair before I came.”

At that moment the last bowls of
soup left the kitchen.

“And now for the main course.” Scarlet Cleaver turned her attention back to the cages. She walked over to the trolley and screamed in fury. Every single guinea pig was gone.

“Come on, Coco,” pleaded Fuzzy, glancing nervously at Eduardo. “Don’t start all that nonsense again, for goodness sake. It’s our last chance to get away.”

“No,” replied Coco firmly. “And it’s not nonsense. Scarlet Cleaver shouldn’t get away with this. The Queen will never allow it.”

“
Caramba!
We have no time for this.” Eduardo lunged forward and grabbed her. “You are coming with us, señorita, whether you like it or not.”