The Lost Puppy

by Paula Harrison

  Chef Darou was leaning out of the kitchen window, waving his wooden spoon wildly.

  “Oh dear! I was supposed to take Chef Darou some cucumbers. He must be waiting for them.” Mrs Cherry picked up a sack from the shed and swung it over her shoulder.

  “Thanks for finding out about Rosie,” said Bea.

  The gardener gave her a cheery wave as she headed for the kitchen.

  Bea’s mind was spinning. So Rosie was a stray after all. It was amazing how she’d made it all the way here on the farmer’s truck. The little puppy always seemed to be looking for adventure. If Bea could keep her hidden at the palace they could have adventures together!

  Bea turned back to the wheelbarrow to give Rosie an extra-big cuddle but it was empty. “Rosie, are you hiding?” She peered under the wheelbarrow. Where was the little dog?

  A cold gust of wind blew Bea’s hair over her face and a crow squawked. Its rough cries sounded like a warning.

  Suddenly the palace garden didn’t seem such a safe place any more. What if Rosie got stuck in a fountain again? What if she got tangled up in thorny bushes or fell down a fox hole?

  Bea tried to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. She ran to the shed and looked inside. Then she searched through the bushes. There was no sign of the puppy.

  “Rosie? Where are you?” Bea gazed around the garden. Why hadn’t she looked after the puppy better? She should have noticed Rosie running away. There were a million places she could be … the orchard, the stables, the maze…

  The maze was a jumble of twisting and turning hedge walls. If Rosie had disappeared in there she might never find her! Bea dashed across the garden in a panic.

  A long squeaky howl sounded in the distance. A lump grew in Bea’s throat. That had to be Rosie. A second howl rose even higher than the first. It was coming from the palace!

  Bea raced through the front door, stopping in the hallway to catch her breath. Was Rosie stuck in one of the rooms? Maybe she’d got into a really small space and couldn’t get out again.

  Jenny scurried away from the kitchen, clutching her apron. “I wouldn’t go down there, Princess Beatrice. There’s an awful fuss and Mrs Stickler’s in a terrible mood.” She curtsied and hurried upstairs.

  Bea slipped down the passageway. If Mrs Stickler had seen Rosie there would be Big Trouble. She would just have to find a way to explain everything. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the kitchen.

  An empty frying pan lay beside the cooker and the floor was dotted with muddy paw prints. Mrs Stickler and Chef Darou were standing by an upturned crate. Something was moving underneath it and a pair of sad brown eyes peered through the wooden slats.

  “Who let that little beast into my kitchen?” Chef Darou shook a spatula menacingly. “It’s taken a sausage right out of the frying pan and just look at the state of the floor!”

  “It’s not just your kitchen. There are dog hairs around the whole palace,” snapped Mrs Stickler. “You should thank me for trapping the creature before it caused even more mess.”

  Bea’s insides went cold as she stared at the puppy trapped inside the crate. “You can’t keep Rosie in there. You’re scaring her!” she cried. “Let me take her and I promise she’ll never come in here again.”

  Mrs Stickler’s stare was colder than an icicle. “Princess Beatrice, do you know something about this creature?”

  “Yes I do!” said Bea. “I found her in the garden this morning. She came all the way here on a hay truck, only the farm doesn’t want her back because she’s a stray.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Chef Darou wrinkled his nose. “It’s a grubby little thing and it certainly should not be in my kitchen.”

  “It shouldn’t be anywhere in the palace!” Mrs Stickler’s eyes flashed. “It’s bad enough having that kitten sleeping in the laundry room at night. The king will never allow a dog in the palace! The cheeky animal – rushing around the place like that.”

  “It’s not Rosie’s fault!” Bea said quickly. “I was busy talking to Mrs Cherry and I didn’t notice her jumping out of the wheelbarrow and running away. Just let me take her – please!”

  Rosie began to whine. Bea crouched down by the crate and stuck her fingers through the slats but she couldn’t reach the little puppy.

  Mrs Stickler frowned. “You shouldn’t be in here either, Princess Beatrice. Princesses are not supposed to wander around the royal kitchen. And I certainly can’t let you take this creature away. Goodness knows how many diseases it’s carrying.”

  Chef Darou gave a little shriek, pointing his fork at Rosie. “Someone has to take it out of my kitchen. The banquet is supposed to be ready soon and I still have fish to fry and peppers to stuff and—”

  “There you are, Bea!” Natasha marched in. “I’ve been looking for you for hours. We haven’t even started practising the song yet. Don’t you want to get it right?” She broke off, staring at the crate with Rosie beneath it.

  Mrs Stickler tutted. “Oh dear! Well, you can’t practise now – you both need to get changed.”

  “Is there a dog in there?” Natasha’s eyes widened.

  “Yes, I found her in the garden this morning.” Bea turned to Mrs Stickler. “Please let me take her. I promise I’ll keep her out of the way!”

  “Don’t you think we should let the dog out?” added Natasha. “What if it gets hungry or thirsty?”

  Mrs Stickler tightened her lips. “I shall move the crate into the corridor and leave a dish of water inside but the animal must stay in the crate. The king will decide what will happen to it.”

  “But please—” cried Bea.

  Mrs Stickler steered Natasha and Bea out of the room. “Hurry up and get ready, please. Mr Jennings has delivered your new dresses and I’m sure you’re going to love them. Don’t forget your father wants you looking neat and tidy when you meet Lord and Lady Villiers this evening. Your face needs washing, Princess Beatrice, and your hair needs a really good brush.”

  Bea stumbled down the passageway, tears pricking her eyes as Rosie’s whines grew into a howl behind her.

  Chapter Seven

  The Profiterole Prank

  The housekeeper followed Bea and Natasha upstairs, talking about hair ribbons and shoes the whole time. Bea shut her bedroom door, thankful when Mrs Stickler finally went away.

  Bea tried to swallow a huge lump in her throat. She would give every single shoe and ribbon she owned to get Rosie back. The little dog just wanted to run around and play. It was so unfair that she was trapped under a crate for acting like any normal puppy.

  The new dress was hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. It was orange – Bea’s least favourite colour – and it was covered with scratchy-looking sequins. Bea put it on and picked out a bright-green hair ribbon. Mrs Stickler would probably say this colour clashed horribly with the dress but she didn’t care.

  Picking up her hairbrush, she tugged at her untidy curls. There had to be some way to get Rosie out of that crate. Everyone would be busy tonight because of the visitors and the banquet. Maybe they wouldn’t notice if Rosie disappeared.

  It would be handy if something went wrong at the banquet – like the soup getting spilled – then everyone would be distracted and no one would be watching the puppy. But what if nothing went wrong at all?

  An idea popped into Bea’s head and her face brightened. She would make sure something went wrong! Nothing huge – just a little mistake that would get everyone’s attention. Alfie might help her. He was good at disasters.

  Throwing the hairbrush on the bed, Bea opened the door and came face to face with her sister. Natasha was wearing a purple satin dress with a matching ribbon and a shiny pearl necklace. Her hair was so neat, it looked like she’d brushed it a thousand times. “I’m sorry about the dog, Bea, but you really shouldn’t have brought it inside. You know what Dad will say.”

  “Rosie didn’t have anyone else to look after her! I HAD to bring her in,” cried Bea.

  “I know dad let the kitten
stay but that was only because the grooms said a cat would be useful for chasing rats away from the stables,” Natasha went on. “Dogs are a lot more work and the palace is no place for a pet!”

  Bea scowled. She was fed up of everyone saying that! She stormed past her sister.

  “Aren’t we going to practise the song now?” called Natasha, but Bea kept on walking.

  Rosie’s crate had been moved into the corridor outside the kitchen. As Bea came closer, the little puppy pressed her nose to a gap in the box and barked softly.

  “It’s all right!” Bea knelt down and whispered through the wooden slats. “I’ve got a plan to get you out of there. Just hang on…” She jumped up as Chef Darou marched down the passageway, muttering about squashed tomatoes.

  Bea peered into the kitchen. The maids, Jenny and Nancy, were rushing around with dishes of steaming vegetables. A towering mountain of profiteroles stood on an enormous silver platter. The little cream-filled pastry balls were coated with chocolate and they looked delicious.

  “Princess Beatrice, where are you?” called Mrs Stickler. “You’ll be late for dinner.”

  “Don’t worry – I’ll be back soon,” Bea whispered to the puppy. She dashed into the dining room, forgetting all about the elegant walking that the housekeeper had taught them that morning.

  King George was sitting at the head of the long dining table with the two guests seated on either side of him. Crystal glasses and white china plates shone in the soft candlelight. Everything was perfectly arranged, as if Mrs Stickler had gone along the table checking the position of each knife, fork and spoon with a ruler.

  Lady Villiers raised her eyebrows as Bea hurtled in and sank into a chair between Alfie and Natasha. The maids brought in the first course and Mrs Stickler poured the drinks.

  “So have you decided where your new house will be?” King George asked his guests.

  Lord Villiers straightened his jacket. “Building a mansion on the clifftop will give us a marvellous view. We visited a possible site a few days ago and decided it was quite suitable.”

  “That’s excellent news!” said King George.

  “Yes, we just need to get rid of the drab little café that’s already there and the place will be perfect.” Lady Villiers picked up her wine glass. Diamond rings sparkled on her fingers.

  Bea froze with a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “You can’t do that! Sleepy Gull Café is one of the most amazing places in the whole of Savara.”

  Natasha nudged her. “Bea! Shh!”

  “And their spring rolls are yummy,” added Alfie. “I kept some in my pocket in case I didn’t like dinner.” He pulled out a squashed paper bag and emptied the spring rolls from Mrs Makali on to a plate.

  Lord and Lady Villiers looked disgusted, but King George picked one up thoughtfully. “Yes, they do wonderful food up there. It’s such a lovely café.”

  Lady Villiers sucked her breath in sharply. “Well! I’m sure you agree that our mansion is more important than a silly café.”

  The king frowned and took a bite of his spring roll.

  After the first course was cleared, the maids brought in the main course – fish pie with carrots and peas. Bea took a forkful of pie, hardly noticing what she was eating. She had to save the café and free Rosie from that horrible crate. She had no idea how to do it all without making all the grown-ups very cross indeed.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Alfie hissed in her ear.

  Bea jumped, flicking a spoonful of fish pie into the air. It landed with a plop in Alfie’s lemonade. King George gave them a stern look.

  “It’s Rosie,” Bea whispered back once the grown-ups were talking again. “She ran into the kitchen and Mrs Stickler trapped her under a crate.”

  Natasha leaned over. “I think I can persuade Mrs Stickler to let the puppy out. I’ll talk to her straight after dinner. Just don’t do anything silly…”

  “Natasha, Beatrice,” King George boomed. “Perhaps after we’ve had dessert you could sing the national song.”

  “Of course – we’d love to.” Natasha smiled and smoothed her neat hair.

  Bea glanced suspiciously at her sister. She couldn’t believe that Natasha really wanted to help her. Surely that would be breaking royal rules somehow. Bea wriggled in her seat while the maids collected the dinner plates. Time was running out. She needed to hurry or Rosie would be trapped under that crate for the whole night.

  When the table was cleared, Jenny carried in the gigantic silver platter with its tower of profiteroles. The little balls of chocolate and cream were balanced neatly on top of each other. A fluttering feeling grew in Bea’s stomach. She knew exactly how to make a disaster happen. She jumped to her feet.

  “Bea, what are you doing?” hissed Natasha.

  Bea walked straight towards Jenny. Pretending to stumble, she bumped into the maid. The silver platter wobbled.

  Jenny squeaked as she lost her grip and the tray of dessert flipped over. Profiteroles flew everywhere. They rolled along the table and spun across the floor. One landed on the piano keys with a loud bong! Another one bounced off Lord Villiers’ face, leaving a chocolaty-brown mark in the middle of his forehead.

  Lady Villiers gasped. Alfie grinned. Not a single profiterole was left on the platter. The chocolate balls had spread everywhere like a swarm of tiny brown creatures.

  For a second, no one moved. Then Natasha leapt up with a determined look on her face. “Go now!” she whispered to Bea. “Set the puppy free and I’ll distract them for you.” She started handing out napkins and talking loudly about how difficult it was to get rid of chocolate stains.

  Bea stared at Natasha in surprise. Her sister really did want to help her! She crept to the door. There was no time to lose. She had to rescue Rosie while no one was watching!

  Chapter Eight

  A Home for Rosie

  Bea glanced back as she slipped out of the dining room. Mrs Stickler was scolding poor Jenny, who was trying to gather up profiteroles. Lady Villiers was dabbing her husband’s forehead with a napkin. Alfie was pretending to help while stuffing profiteroles into his mouth.

  Bea ran down the corridor, her heart pounding. Chef Darou was in the kitchen, muttering to himself as he filled a pot of coffee. Bea knelt down beside Rosie’s wooden crate and her heart sank. The puppy wasn’t moving. She wasn’t even making a sound.

  “Rosie, are you all right?” She peered inside the crate where Rosie lay curled up, her big sad eyes blinking. Bea’s chest tightened. What if Rosie was ill? It was so mean of Mrs Stickler to leave her with nothing but a dish of water.

  Bea heaved at the crate, struggling to lift it. One side tilted and Rosie squeezed herself out. Bea gathered up the puppy and let go of the crate, which landed with a crash.

  Rosie snuffled at Bea’s ear and licked her cheek. “Rosie, you’re all right!” cried Bea. “I was so worried about you.”

  “What’s going on out there?” called Chef Darou.

  Bea hugged Rosie tightly. She had to get away but where should she go? If she headed to the back door the chef would see her. If she went to the front entrance she might run into Mrs Stickler or her dad. She could go up to her room but it was the first place everyone would look once they worked out she was gone.

  Rosie whined softly and licked her cheek again. Bea tiptoed across the passage and slipped inside the store room next door to the laundry. The shelves were stacked high with bags of flour and rice and boxes of tea. Light from the setting sun shone through the high window.

  Bea froze as footsteps passed the door. The window was too high to reach so she piled up the boxes of tea and climbed on to them with Rosie tucked under her arm. It took a lot of twisting to loosen the latch but finally the window swung open. Bea scrambled on to the window sill and dropped on to the grass below.

  The fall jolted Rosie and she whimpered, so Bea stroked her gently till she was calm. Suddenly, Bea realised her whole plan had been about freeing the puppy. What was she suppos
ed to do next? There was no point going back inside. Mrs Stickler would take Rosie away, and everyone would still be cross about the profiteroles.

  She headed for the orchard, carrying Rosie in her arms, but stopped when she heard loud voices. Lady Villiers stormed out of the front door with Lord Villiers following her.

  “I can’t believe some little café is more important to the king than what we want,” she snapped. “How dare he say we can’t knock it down!”

  “Never mind, my dear.” Lord Villiers opened the door to their limousine. “I did think there were too many seagulls up there anyway.”

  Bea smiled. At least this was one piece of good news! Her dad had saved the café. She would go and tell Keira straight away. Holding Rosie tight, she climbed over the palace wall and headed for the cliff path.

  The sea was making a soft shushing sound, broken now and then by the seagulls’ cries. The sun was slowly sinking, casting a shimmering golden path across the blue-grey water.

  Rosie ran along the cliff path, sniffing every flower and stone. She barked at a moth that fluttered into the air and chased the little creature, her tail wagging.

  Bea sat on a rock and rested her chin in her hands. If only she could think of a way to keep Rosie at Ruby Palace … but her secret puppy wasn’t a secret any more. Her dad would never agree to keeping the little dog. Rosie needed a good home and people who loved her.

  Keira came running down the cliff path with her skipping rope. “Bea! What’s the matter? I thought you had a special banquet tonight.”

  Bea smiled. “I came to tell you some good news! My dad won’t let your café be knocked down. Those horrible people will have to find somewhere else for their mansion.”

  “That’s great!” Keira beamed. “But why aren’t you happy?”