Henry the Queen's Corgi

by Georgie Crawley

  Jack and Claire held the map between them, talking over each other as they pointed out their favourite attractions. They’d wanted to come last year, and the year before, but Jim had always said it was too busy, too commercialised. He’d wanted to take them all skiing instead, but they’d never been able to afford it for the four of them – plus kennels for Henry and Sookie.

  Winter Wonderland, thankfully, had free entry. Of course, there were plenty of things you could pay for inside, but that was why Amy had planned the whole trip so carefully. She’d budgeted and booked ahead for two of the bigger items – the Giant Wheel and ice skating by the bandstand. And by bringing Henry along, she’d ensured that she’d have to stay on the side with him, so they only needed two tickets. She’d kept enough money aside for the kids to choose one activity each on top of that, and brought their Christmas money from their Granny – donated early for the cause – if they wanted to spend any more.

  They’d had an early picnic lunch on the train in, so they didn’t need to buy food at one of the overpriced food stalls, and Amy had planned a dinner at an inexpensive Italian she remembered from when she and Jim were dating, after they’d walked through Oxford Street to see the lights. Add in a side trip to look at Buckingham Palace and they’d have had a full, memorable day – and Amy would still have money left to buy the food for Christmas dinner.

  Not bad going, if she did say so herself.

  The kids didn’t seem to have noticed that everything they did was being done on the cheap, thankfully. Claire was mesmerised by the lights and sights of the Christmas market, and even Jack seemed engaged by the music and excited to see the views from the Giant Wheel. Henry stayed close by her feet – almost tripping her up a couple of times – but generally wasn’t causing any trouble, which was a plus.

  For a moment, it was almost like the last few months hadn’t happened at all.

  Except that Jim wasn’t there.

  Amy watched the huge wheel turning against the darken-ing London sky, and let herself imagine, just for a moment, how different things might have been if Jim had never hired Bonnie as his new secretary. Never fallen in love with her. Never decided to give up on almost twenty years of marriage in a heartbeat.

  Then she shook her head. There was no point dwelling on the past. She had to focus on the future – and making it perfect for her kids, without Jim at her side.

  She didn’t want Jack and Claire to hate their dad – adding more bitterness to the situation wouldn’t help anyone. And Dr Fitzgerald was right – he’d still be their dad, once the divorce was all over and settled. But in her efforts to keep things civil and polite, Amy couldn’t help but think she’d got the rough end of the deal. The fact that Jim had an affair and, when forced to choose, picked Bonnie for his future, meant that Jack wasn’t speaking to his father. As for Claire … Amy wasn’t even sure how much she knew about what had happened. After all, Jim hadn’t introduced the kids to his new girlfriend yet.

  But that couldn’t last forever. Soon they’d have a new person in their lives, a new permanent situation to deal with. Someone to share holidays and special occasions with. Next year, they’d be scheduling out who got the kids when, who enjoyed Christmas Day with them and who got stuck with Boxing Day, and who was responsible for the stockings on Christmas Eve …

  This year, though, they were still all hers. And she intended to make the most of that. Jack was nearly eighteen, after all – this could be his last family Christmas, if it came down to it. So Amy was determined to make this Christmas magical for them both. Give them one last year of being proper kids at Christmas.

  Even if she had to do it alone.

  Henry brushed up against her legs, and she reached down to pat him as the Giant Wheel came to a halt.

  ‘We can do it, can’t we, boy?’ she murmured, as she watched for Jack and Claire disembarking.

  Henry just rested his head on his paws, over her feet. At least she could be sure Henry wasn’t going anywhere.

  It was kind of nice to have at least one guy she could rely on.

  Even if he was a corgi.

  HENRY

  I had to admit, there were a lot more interesting smells at the ‘Winter Wonderland’ place than at home in Redhill. There, it was mostly other dogs, children, cars, bins and the occasional squirrel in the local park. Here, there was chestnuts roasting (at least, according to the man who bellowed at us as we went past, that’s what they were) and all sorts of sweet things, along with the biting scent of the ice and the cold air. Plus the smell of excitement, that ran through the whole place – I could even smell it on Jack, Claire and Amy, which was a lovely change.

  Claire groaned when it was time for us to go, but she didn’t make the kind of fuss we were all used to lately. Amy wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders and promised her there was plenty more fun ahead, and Claire cheered up again after that.

  ‘So, what’s next, Mum?’ Jack asked, hardly a hint of his usual surly tones in his voice. I sat at his feet, my stumpy tail wagging in approval. I liked my Walkers happy, and this was the first time I’d seen it in months.

  Maybe things were on the up again, for everyone.

  ‘I thought we’d walk down past Buckingham Palace.’ Amy folded the map of the Winter Wonderland carefully, and placed it back in her bag. ‘And maybe through St James’s Park to see the pelicans. Then later, once it’s dark, we can catch the tube back up to Oxford Street to look at the lights, before dinner. What do you think?’

  Claire rested her head against her mum’s arm. ‘Sounds brilliant.’

  ‘Great!’ Amy beamed.

  I trotted along contentedly at Amy’s side as we wound our way past log cabin market stalls and ice skating children, the sounds of laughter and joy filling the air. Today was a very good day indeed – and I definitely liked the sound of St James’s Park!

  Parks, in my experience, were places for running and chasing, for seeking out new scents and hunting down squirrels. Amy was always relaxed in the local park – she knew that I knew my way around, so she didn’t need to watch me too closely. Plus we always met interesting people there: the neighbour with the Yorkshire terrier, the new doctor who’d moved to town last month and had a really fun Dalmatian puppy. Even Claire’s friends from school, or Jack’s mates, were often to be found in the park. We always stopped to talk and, over the last month or two, having those people to talk to seemed to help my family’s mood.

  After all, while I was an excellent listener and comforter (unlike Sookie who disappears at the first sniffle), sometimes my humans needed other humans to talk to, too.

  I was right – St James’s Park was brilliant. Amy let me off my lead and I was free to romp around to my heart’s content. Even the cold, frozen earth was gentler on my paws than the hard concrete of the pavements we’d walked to get there, so I enjoyed the freedom to just run and run.

  ‘No chasing the pelicans now!’ Amy called after me, as she and the kids followed. I barked a quick reply over my shoulder. What were pelicans, anyway? I couldn’t commit to not chasing them until I’d found out. What if they were like squirrels? Squirrels were my favourite things to chase. With pigeons a close second. But I was willing to rejig the top two if pelicans were even better …

  The humans stuck to the harder paths, while I zigzagged across the park, mostly on the grass, always keeping them within sight. Jack tossed sticks for me to hunt down, which was great fun. When we reached the lake, Claire pointed out to an island in the middle, just as I was contemplating if it was really too cold for even a little paddle.

  ‘Look! Mum! There are the pelicans!’

  I jerked my head up, ears pricked, scanning the horizon. The park was green, even in the depths of winter, and the lake hadn’t frozen, so there was still plenty of wildlife around. I stared at where Claire was pointing, taking in the immense, ridiculous birds that apparently lived here in the park.

  They were huge and a sort of dirty white colour, with giant, pointy beaks with a
flappy pouch for the lower half.

  Most pertinently, they were bigger than me.

  I took a step or two back from the edge of the lake. Those things definitely looked like they could swallow a pigeon or a squirrel whole. I didn’t want them trying their beak at a corgi.

  ‘Who do they belong to?’ Claire asked, still staring at the enormous birds. I felt a pang of longing for the sparrows and thrushes of our back garden, at home in Redhill. Those were proper birds. Birds that knew their place in the animal order.

  ‘Well, St James’s Park is one of the Royal Parks,’ Amy said, slowly. ‘So I guess they belong to the Queen.’

  The Queen had very peculiar taste in pets, I couldn’t help but think.

  ‘The first pelicans here were presented to King Charles II in 1664 by the Russian Ambassador.’ We all looked at Jack in surprise, and he held up his phone. ‘The power of the internet. Now, come on, it’s freezing! What’s next?’

  ‘We’ve seen the pelicans – let’s go see if we can catch a glimpse of their owner,’ Amy suggested. ‘I read in the paper this morning that she was heading out from the Palace later today. You never know – we might get lucky.’

  I wasn’t sure how lucky it would really be to meet the owner of those terror-birds, but Claire hopped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands, so maybe I was missing something.

  We trotted along the length of the lake, towards the edge of the park. Amy didn’t put me back on my lead, which I appreciated. I stayed close anyway – at least, until I was sure we were out of sight of the pelicans.

  This was one park I decided I could live without visiting again. I much preferred our own, local park, with all the people and dogs we knew, and some nice, plump squirrels for chasing.

  At the far end of the park, we saw a mass of people, gathered around a set of railings. There was lots of chatter, filling the frozen air, and Amy hurried us all across a wide road. I tried to look around, to get my bearings, but all I could really see was legs – thin legs, thick legs, legs in heavy dark trousers and boots, or in jeans or tights. Legs everywhere, blocking my view.

  ‘The gate’s opening!’ Claire cried, and suddenly the three of them rushed to get closer to the railings up ahead. I stuck with them, weaving through legs to make sure I didn’t lose them.

  ‘Come on, Henry,’ Jack said, glancing down at me.

  I still wasn’t on my lead, I realised, but the Walkers were far too busy peering out through the crowd to think about that now.

  Suddenly, the noise levels rose again. Through the legs, I could see a motorcycle leaving the gates, its lights flashing. Behind it, a long black car, also with lights, followed – and as it came past, cheers and shouts rang in my ears as the crowd went wild – it was worse than on Bonfire Night. I shrunk back, but there were more legs behind me, and the noise was everywhere, so loud I couldn’t escape it.

  But I had to. I wanted to dive under my cushion into my basket at home. I wanted to snuggle up with my mouse toy. I wanted Jack to pet my head and tell me that everything would be quiet soon.

  I knew it wouldn’t though. London had been loud all day – from the train to the crowds at the Winter Wonderland, to the squawks of the pelicans as they were fed their fish. But this crowd was the worst, and I needed to get away from it.

  Whining, just a little, I backed away, fighting my way past the legs and the noise to reach the back of the crowd. I could wait for the Walkers there – they’d find me in no time once this was over.

  Behind all the people the racket was a little less, but I still wanted to put my paws over my ears and hide from it all. I ran a little further, just to be safe, until I reached a patch of greenery I could hide in. As I pressed back into it, a large, fat pigeon hopped past. I studied it carefully, distracting myself from the noise by imagining how I’d catch it. The sounds of the crowd faded as I focused on my prey.

  The bird, unaware it was being hunted, hopped closer. And closer again. Until I could almost …

  At exactly the right moment, I lunged forward – and the pigeon flapped up into the sky in a panic. I watched, as it flew over the bush I was hiding in, landing on the other side.

  Too easy.

  The bush was even denser than the forest of legs, but so much quieter, and less inclined to stand on my paws. I pushed through the branches, pausing only for a second when I came up against two tall metal bars in the middle of the greenery, which wouldn’t give way to my shoving.

  Instead, I angled my head between them, wiggling my shoulders to fit through, followed by my back, my rear and my hind legs.

  I shot out the other side with a pop, brushing through the last of the branches in time to see the pigeon hopping off towards a patch of grass on the other side.

  The chase was on.

  Pigeons are truly stupid birds. It never seems to occur to them that if they just flew high enough, or far enough away, I wouldn’t be able to catch them at all. Instead, they get all flappy for a few moments, hovering in mid-air, then land again a short run away.

  Like I said: stupid. But it does make the game more fun.

  I dashed after the bird, barking happily. The loud cheering and shouting was almost inaudible from in here – where was I, anyway? It looked like another park, like the one with the pelicans, with lots of trees and greenery. That was okay, then. Parks were always a good place for dogs, and the Walkers would be sure to find me here once they’d finished doing whatever it was they were doing by the gates. After all, it wasn’t like I’d gone very far.

  Eventually, the pigeon had enough sense to fly up into a tree, and stay there, but I didn’t mind. It just meant I could spend some time exploring this new park – while keeping an eye out for pelicans, of course.

  I had a marvellous time investigating the pathways and the flowerbeds, the trees and the bushes. But after a while, even I had to admit my paws were tired. And, even worse, it was starting to grow dark. Hadn’t Amy said something about dinner? Yes, that when it got dark we’d all go to look at some lights, somewhere called Oxford Street, and have a nice dinner.

  I didn’t want to miss that.

  Yawning, I trotted back the way I’d come, heading back through the falling gloom, towards the big building the Walkers had been standing outside – what was it Amy had called it? The Palace. Buckingham Palace. Although, I had to admit, it looked a little different from this angle. No big gate and railings, for a start. But still, it was the same place, so the Walkers had to be around here somewhere, right?

  Except there were no crowds on this side of the Palace. No guards with those funny hats. No people at all, actually.

  I stopped, closer to the Palace than I’d remembered us getting from the other side. I just needed to find a way around, that was all. Back to the Walkers. I’d squeezed through a bush, hadn’t I? So I just needed to do that again.

  If only I could remember which bush.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’ A grumpy voice behind me made me hop with surprise. I spun around so fast I almost caught my stumpy tail, and saw a man in a dark suit and a white shirt glowering at me. ‘You must be the new one, I suppose. I thought Her Majesty was taking you with her, but apparently not. No, you’ll just get to run around here, getting under everyone’s feet and having little “accidents” and we’ll all have to pretend we love you. Just like the other three. Honestly. I thought there weren’t going to be any new Palace pets, any more. But no, couldn’t resist a corgi in need, could she?’ He sighed, and opened a door to the Palace. ‘I suppose it’s not your fault. Come on. Let’s get you back where you belong.’

  My ears perked up at the last part. The bit about Her Majesty and accidents made no sense at all, but getting back where I belonged – with the Walkers, that was exactly what I wanted to happen. So I trotted dutifully through the door, prepared to follow the grumpy man in the suit to wherever I was sure the Walkers would be waiting for me. My eyes widened the moment I stepped inside, though. I hadn’t really understood what ‘Palace’ m
eant – except that it was clearly a very big house. But the room we entered wasn’t anything like our hallway at home. For a start, there was no straight staircase heading up, with items belonging to the family strewn on every step, waiting to be returned to their bedrooms. There was no telephone table, with the address book that was good for chewing. No coat rack, with baskets of mismatched shoes underneath.

  No hook for a lead, either.

  Instead, a huge room spread out from the doorway, with a dark red carpet, lots of dark red chairs and sofas (that I suspected I probably wasn’t allowed on) and huge, tall columns made out of white-ish stone. On the walls were giant pictures of people wearing funny clothes. And in the centre of the room was an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with plush red decorations in the shape of crowns.

  It was so imposing, I almost wanted to hide behind the heavy, red and gold curtains. Except then I’d never get back to my family.

  ‘Well, come on, then,’ the grumpy man said, ushering me forward. ‘If you don’t hurry up you’ll miss your dinner, and then there’ll be hell to pay.’

  The man had a point. Amy would not be happy if I made them all so late they missed dinner. And I wouldn’t be very pleased about missing a meal, either. (It wasn’t like I’d actually got to eat the pigeon. And I had been doing an awful lot of running around. It was enough to leave a corgi famished.)

  The only problem was, I had no idea where I was supposed to go.

  The man sighed again, heavily. ‘Right. You’re the new one. Suppose you haven’t figured out where everything is yet. Come on, then. I’ll take you.’

  I’d expected him to lead me straight to another door, and back outside, but instead we walked through ever more impressive rooms to a wide staircase, lined with golden banisters and even more gold on the walls. At the bottom of the stairs was a white statue, next to a huge ornate clock. Long, green garlands decked with shiny baubles trailed up along the banister.

  This definitely wasn’t like the Walkers’ house.

  ‘Right, upstairs, you.’ The grumpy man waved a hand towards the stairs. I stayed sat at the bottom, looking from him to the steps. The Walkers couldn’t be up there, could they? ‘Go on. Up!’