Lady Speaker disappeared into the kitchen, and after making loud clattering sounds returned with a china pot clad in a purple knitted tea cosy. She directed Lucy to a dainty chaise and served her tea. The rabbit finished slurping from her teacup and turned to address the girl.
“We have waited for you for a very long time. Now that you are here, please allow me to tell you how everything began.” Lady Speaker dimmed the lanterns, casting shadows on the faces of all the rabbits that peered down at them from the walls.
“Some years ago,” she began, “this majestic building functioned as the humans’ Parliament House. It was their seat of government — a place where decisions were made and laws implemented that affected every living creature in the land.” The rabbit looked away wistfully. “Then one day, the humans decided that this House was too small for them. So, a bill was passed and a new parliament was built, just over the hill.”
Lady Speaker pointed to a souvenir postcard pinned to a board with the bold caption: “Welcome to Parliament House,” above a picture of a grand white building surrounded by manicured lawns.
“The new parliament was much larger than this and fitted with the finest marble sourced from far and wide.” The rabbit looked wistfully away. “So, this building was left abandoned for years. It was then that it became known as the Old Parliament House.”
The pair shared a long moment of silence. Lucy politely sipped her tea, as the rabbit surveyed the portraits of dignitaries that lined her walls. “Grand Kings and Queens once graced our halls,” she paused, “after time they stopped arriving on our steps, for a new, more extravagant parliament had been built. This House was boarded up, and its opulent fixtures were left just as they were, frozen in time.”
Lucy had been quietly taking it all in. However, there were still many things left unexplained. “And so how did it come to be occupied by…um…” she carefully considered her words.
“…animals?” asked Lady Speaker.
“Indeed,” blushed Lucy.
“Well now, my father John discovered it quite by accident!” Lucy followed Lady Speaker’s gaze to a portrait of a handsome rabbit in a grey Gatsby hat. “Pop was burrowing down by the river one day. As he was making his way back up to the surface, he suddenly cried “up periscope!” for he had found himself right in the centre of Queen’s Hall!” Lucy quietly chuckled, as she imagined a family of rabbits waltzing merrily in this fine vestibule.
“And so, we made this place our home.” Lady Speaker paused thoughtfully. “Before long, we were joined by others that had found their way in — first the pink galahs that swooped down through the cracked windows, and then the millipedes somersaulted down from the roof! My father became the first Speaker of the new Animal House.”
Lady Speaker hesitated and then offered, “You may recall Mr Hughes, the ‘sprightly’ spoodle who was somewhat vocal in Parliament?”
Lucy thought that the term “sprightly” was something of an understatement, given the dog’s aggressive approach to parliamentary debate.
“It is not something I speak of widely, but I feel it is important for you to know,” the rabbit continued. “Mr Hughes found his way here many years ago, but of course back then he did not have a name. My father was locking up the House one winter’s night. It was freezing outside, and great gusts of wind were battering the doors. As he turned to come inside, something caught his eye — a little brown tail poking out from a crumpled blanket.”
Lady Speaker looked rather forlorn. “The puppy had been abandoned — he would have surely frozen to death if he had stayed out there. So, my parents took him in until he was old enough to make his way.”
The rabbit paused for some time before continuing. “To this day, very few animals are aware of this. Mr Hughes never mentions his past — he is a very proud creature indeed. Sadly, I think it is one of the reasons that he resents me. He knows that I know where he came from. Prime Minister or otherwise, to me he will always be that scared and shivering pup.”
“Prime Minister?” questioned Lucy.
“Indeed. Mr Hughes has been elected to make decisions on behalf of us all.”
Lady Speaker signed then gently nipped the girl’s toes. “I’m afraid it is what it is. It has been an eventful day Lucy and you need your rest, for tomorrow the Queen arrives.”
III – The Queen's Supper
The next day, there was a buzz of anticipation in the Animal House. Queen Beatrix was arriving from the Mother Country! Preparations were underway to ensure that the place was to Her Majesty's liking. Iguanas busily cleaned the high windows, but they blended so perfectly that only their rags were visible. A mob of meerkats frenetically ran in and out of the parliamentary kitchen, taking orders from an angry bear in a head chef's uniform.
On the strike of 5 o'clock a beaver dressed in a red porter's suit excitedly cried, "She's here everybody — she's here!" As all of the animals jostled on the Parliament's steps to sneak a peek of the Queen, as her horse-drawn carriage made its way down the promenade. Their first glimpse was of a white-gloved paw, accepting the hand of a Lady-in-Waiting. But the rest of the "vision" was somewhat compromised, as the bulldog tottered awkwardly in her impractical heels.
After an appropriate amount of pomp and circumstance — and many bows and curtsies — the Queen politely excused herself, retiring to her quarters to prepare for the supper to be held in her honour.
It was a lavish affair held in the parliament's finest space, aptly named Queen's Hall. Mr Hughes took great delight in presiding as the host. He swanned around the grand marble hall, with his nose held high and his chest puffed out in self-importance. Lucy heard Lady mutter a small "humph!" of contempt, as they observed Mr Hughes ingratiating himself with the Queen. "Oh, Your Majesty! How slender and fetching you look in that purple gown!" The overweight bulldog enjoyed the attention, while her meek dachshund husband slinked behind a cocktail table.
The plates kept coming out from the kitchen, and it was the most delicious food that Lucy had ever eaten. Each course was served on a silver platter by attentive meerkats, with white silk napkins draped on their arms. "A pickled egg, kind Sir? A devil on horseback, Madam? How about a sumptuous ‘pig in a blanket'…?”
Lucy filled her plate with golden croquettes, salmon roulades, and vol au vents stuffed with prawns and avocado. They certainly did not serve this fancy food at her school tuck shop. Lucy's lunch usually consisted of a peanut butter sandwich, which she would find squashed down the bottom of her school bag. If her mother packed any treats, they would be swiftly snatched by Bronny and Kevin.
After all of the canapés had been devoured, a grey elephant rolled his piano onto the stage (with some effort, mind you). The pianist was accompanied by a troupe of felines playing saxophones. The jazz band brought all of the animals onto the dance floor, and a celebratory mood was in the air, as creatures from all nations jived and bopped to the lively beats.
Sri Mehta invited Lady Speaker to dance, although she was somewhat coy. Lucy observed the peacock's vigorous feather shaking and rather impressive Bollywood moves.
The girl had never seen animals in ball gowns or tuxedos — what a strange sight! At first, she felt like a spectator looking in at this world
