Henry the Queen's Corgi

by Georgie Crawley

  All those puppy training lessons Jim had taken me to kicked in and, at the sound of the order in the grumpy man’s voice, I hopped straight up and onto the first steps.

  The man followed behind me as we climbed. I wondered what I was going to find at the top.

  Hopefully, my family.

  The upstairs corridors were just as ornate, and all decorated for the season. It made me realise that Amy hadn’t even put up the Christmas tree yet this year. Probably because that was something that Jim always used to do.

  I was glad to have the grumpy man to follow; without him, I’d have been lost in a heartbeat.

  ‘Here we go.’ He reached for the handle of the heavy, red door we’d stopped in front of. On it was a sign.

  My reading isn’t great. I’d learned a few words: Henry, dog, food and corgi.

  The sign definitely said Corgi something.

  The door opened, and three other dogs stared at me.

  I stared back.

  I was guessing the other word on that sign was ‘room’.

  It was a room full of corgis.

  What on earth had I got myself into now?

  AMY

  ‘We saw the Queen!’ Okay, so it had only been the briefest glimpse of a hat, and maybe a corgi’s ear, as the big, black car had pulled away from the Palace, but Claire was still jumping up and down like they’d had a personal audience.

  ‘And I got the whole thing,’ Jack added, as he stopped filming on his phone. ‘Granny will love this.’

  ‘She will,’ Amy agreed. Her mother, Granny Freida, was a huge fan of all things Royal. Jack had basically just secured the best Christmas presents for life in return for a viewing of that ninety second film and its half a second shot of Her Majesty.

  Really, she couldn’t have planned this day better. The kids were happy and excited, she felt relaxed for the first time in months, and now they’d go and look at the lights and get some dinner, and it would all be lovely and perfect and the magical Christmas she’d been hoping for.

  Dr Fitzgerald had been right. Focusing on the future was the way to go.

  ‘Where’s Henry?’ Jack asked, frowning, and Amy felt all that calm relaxation evaporate in an instant, as she was dragged back to the suddenly frightening present.

  ‘What do you mean? He was right here …’ Amy glanced down to where Henry had sat at her feet, calm and content, all day. Even in the cold, her palms were sweaty as she checked the lead in her hand. It was a retractable one and it was, of course, fully retracted. No dog attached. Because she’d taken Henry off his lead so he could have a race around St James’s Park, and then—

  ‘I forgot to put his lead back on.’ Amy’s heart thumped so hard in her chest she thought it might break free. ‘But … but he must be around here somewhere. He wouldn’t just wander off.’

  Would he? Henry had been to all the standard puppy training classes, and was usually sensible enough to stay close when things were busy – mostly to make sure he didn’t miss out on any food. But an event like today, with all the noise and the pushing, and in such a strange place … Not to mention his recent habit of escaping out the front door whenever it was open. What if he’d run again?

  And where could he have run to?

  ‘He could be anywhere,’ Jack said, sounding agonised.

  She should have been more vigilant. More careful. More attentive. How could she have forgotten his lead? How could she have forgotten Henry, even if just long enough to watch the Queen drive away?

  She’d failed him. Failed her family. She’d been an idiot to think she could do all this alone.

  Despair gripped her as she looked desperately around her, hoping for the sight of a fluffy, stumpy tail, or a doggy grin.

  Nothing.

  No. Amy shook her head. She didn’t have time for despair. She had to be a parent again. To take charge.

  After all, she was the only one left to do that, now.

  ‘We need to look for him. Call him,’ she said, thinking her way through a plan. ‘He always comes when he hears his name. Let’s split up. Jack, you take that side of the railings, Claire and I will take this side.’

  The crowd was clearing now, as much as it ever did outside Buckingham Palace, and they could at least see the pavement between people. Keeping Claire close – the last thing she needed was to lose a child as well as a dog – Amy made her way along the railings, calling for Henry.

  ‘He couldn’t have run out into the road, or we’d have seen him,’ Claire said, following her. ‘So he has to be around here somewhere. Doesn’t he?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Amy said, with much more confidence than she actually felt. ‘And even when he runs away to the park, he always stops to look back and check I’m following. He won’t have gone far. I’m sure we’ll find him in no time.’

  Three hours later, as the train raced them home along the tracks, Amy wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulders, her heart breaking at her daughter’s tears. Across from them, Jack sat sullenly, staring out of the window. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since the moment they realised Henry was missing.

  The policeman they’d spoken to had been helpful, but not hopeful. London was just such a big city. Henry could be anywhere.

  ‘He’s microchipped,’ Amy had told them, desperately.

  ‘Well, if he turns up, at least they’ll know who he belongs to,’ the policeman had said, obviously trying not to emphasise the ‘if’.

  ‘He could have been stolen,’ Jack said, suddenly, setting Claire off with fresh waves of sobs. ‘Corgis are a popular breed. Someone could have dognapped him while we weren’t looking.’

  ‘Which means we’ll never see him again!’ Claire shot an accusing glare at her mother.

  Amy didn’t blame her. It was all her fault. She’d been so busy congratulating herself on organising the perfect, magical day for her kids, without Jim, that she’d lost sight of what really mattered – them all spending the day together.

  Including Henry.

  He must be so scared, alone in the city, or with total strangers. He wouldn’t understand what was happening, or where they’d gone. He’d only know he wasn’t with them. That they’d left him behind.

  Never mind the kids forgiving her – she’d never forgive herself for that.

  Jack had gone back to staring out of the window, into the bitter, winter night. He might not have said much, but Amy knew he had to be just as upset as Claire was. Henry was his dog really, his and Jim’s. Jim had brought him home for Jack when Henry was just a puppy, and Jack only just turned ten. Ever since, training Henry, walking him, looking after him, had been something father and son had done together. But now, Jim had gone, leaving Henry behind to muddle through with the rest of them.

  Jack had seemed to take his father’s leaving well, to start with, but as the weeks had gone on he’d withdrawn more and more into himself. He’d always talked about becoming a vet, and researched exactly which courses he’d need to take, what work experience would stand him in good stead for getting a place on his preferred course. He’d worked so hard, for the last two years, determined to get his dream job. But in the last few weeks, he seemed to have forgotten that it was ever even important to him.

  But Henry … Henry had always mattered, to all of them. As much as he might frustrate her sometimes, Amy knew that Henry loved them all with that unfailing devotion that dogs had. She might not like him climbing on the beds, but she knew Claire slept better with Henry beside her. Not just Claire – Amy had woken a few times over the last six weeks to find Henry curled beside her, keeping her warm in Jim’s absence.

  And Jack … Jack might not talk to her about how he was feeling, but she knew he talked to Henry, sometimes, when he thought no one could hear him. Who would he talk to now?

  Amy watched Jack now, resting his head against the glass, his dark hair flopping over his forehead, and felt her heart ache for him. Her boy, almost all grown up – but not so grown up he didn’t still need his parents.<
br />
  Didn’t need his father. And his dog.

  Amy let her eyes close for a second, and tipped her head back to rest against the back of the seat. Just a moment to grieve and feel like all was lost.

  Then she opened her eyes, straightened her spine, and got back to it.

  Okay, so she’d reported Henry as missing, and made sure they knew he was microchipped. She’d searched the area, called his name, and tried to tempt him out with doggy treats. She’d spoken to every tourist in the vicinity of Buckingham Palace who could understand her and asked if they’d seen Henry.

  She’d done everything she could, on the scene.

  So the next question was, what could she do from home to bring Henry back to them?

  The Walker family had already lost enough this year. She wasn’t about to give up another member of the family without a fight.

  ‘Okay, kids,’ she said, waiting until she had their full attention before continuing. ‘What we need next is a plan.’

  Day 2

  Sunday 15th December

  HENRY

  For a moment, when I woke, I wasn’t sure where I was. The basket I’d fallen asleep in felt too soft, too comfortable, to be my own, battered one. And the room was too quiet – no radio blaring out from the kitchen, or Jack thumping down the stairs.

  It didn’t feel like home at all.

  Then I opened my eyes, and everything that had happened the previous day came back to me.

  After the grumpy man had deposited me at the Corgi Room, it hadn’t taken me long to realise the mistake he’d made. He thought I belonged here, at the Palace, so he’d brought me to where all the other dogs lived – instead of taking me back to the Walkers like I’d hoped.

  Where were they now, my family? Had they left without me? Or were they still waiting, searching for me?

  What if they thought I’d meant to run off and leave them, like Jim had? I hoped they all knew I loved them far too much to ever do that.

  Spending a night in a Palace might be a very big adventure for a rather small dog, but it did make me miss my real life, and my family, just a bit. Who knew what sort of trouble they’d all get into without me there to look after them?

  Who would make sure Amy took her daily walks? Or curl up with her to watch romantic movies on Friday nights? Who would eat Claire’s leftovers at dinner, when she smuggled them under the table when Amy wasn’t looking? Who would keep Claire company at night, when she was sad and needed a snuggly, furry body beside her for comfort? She might be too old for teddy bears (most of the time) but she certainly wasn’t too old for me. And most important of all, who would listen to Jack talking about how he missed his dad? I knew he didn’t want anyone else to know that he felt that way. But he needed someone to talk to. He needed me.

  They all did.

  But it looked like the Walkers would have to learn to manage without me, at least for a little while. Just until I could straighten out this mistake and find my way home.

  And in the meantime, since I was in the Palace … I might as well make the most of it. It couldn’t be long now before someone realised what had happened and Amy arrived to take me home again. Yes, there was nothing to worry about.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Stretching out in my super-soft basket, I took in the rest of the room around me.

  Given how grand the Palace was, maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised that the Corgi Room was every bit as luxurious – but I was. Each of the dogs had its own wicker basket, raised a little above the ground for some reason. It made me wonder whose basket I’d borrowed – and when they’d be back to claim it.

  Of course! The moment that happened, that was when the humans at the Palace would realise they’d made a mistake, and then I’d be taken home to the Walkers. It was only a matter of time, really.

  Except, of course, that while the humans might not have realised they had the wrong dog yet, the other dogs were a lot smarter. It wouldn’t take them nearly as long, I was sure.

  There were, as far as I could tell from my observations the evening before, three other dogs in the Palace – one corgi like me, and two others who looked a little like corgis, but not quite. They had longer faces, and bodies, and sat even lower to the ground than I did. I’d intended to ask their breed, but given the suspicious looks they’d given me at dinner the night before, I’d decided to hold off until they got to know me better.

  But apparently the Palace dogs didn’t like to wait.

  Sitting bolt upright in my basket, I realised the other three dogs were staring at me, no friendliness at all in their gazes.

  ‘So. You’re the new dog, then,’ the corgi said, spitting out the word ‘new’ like it was a mouldy dog biscuit.

  ‘Um, sort of?’ I needed to find out what the situation here was before I let slip the truth about my unorthodox arrival.

  ‘Thought you were supposed to be going with Her on the trip,’ one of the other dogs said. ‘Special treatment and all that.’

  Hadn’t the grumpy man yesterday said something about thinking I’d gone with Her Majesty? ‘There was a change of plan,’ I said, thinking how very true that was.

  ‘Not so special after all, then,’ the third dog said. ‘Well, suppose we’d better get used to you being around. I’m Candy. That’s Vulcan, and this’ – she nodded towards the corgi in the middle – ‘this is Willow.’

  Candy seemed friendly, so I decided to try to get some more information out of her. ‘Great names,’ I said. ‘And it’s always lovely to meet another corgi. What’s your breed, Candy?’

  ‘Vulcan and I are Dorgis,’ she explained. ‘Half dachshund, half corgi.’

  Well, that explained the low to the ground thing.

  ‘It is customary, when someone gives you their name, to return the pleasantry,’ Willow said, in a very high and mighty voice. She almost sounded like Sookie.

  ‘The what now?’ I asked, having not quite followed the question.

  Vulcan rolled his eyes. ‘Your name. It would be polite for you to tell us your name, now you know ours.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Henry,’ I said, automatically. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  Willow’s head shot up at that, and she stepped forward to study me more carefully. ‘Henry, is it? We were told the new dog was called Monty.’

  Ah. Now I was for it.

  I gave a wide, doggy smile, and prepared to charm my way out of it – the way I did with Amy when the odd songbird ended up dead in the back garden. ‘It’s sort of a funny story, actually.’

  I related the events of the day before in as entertaining manner as I could. Willow, Candy and Vulcan didn’t find it very funny, unfortunately.

  ‘So you’re an imposter,’ Vulcan said, staring down his long nose at me.

  ‘An intruder, even,’ Candy added. She’d seemed like the friendliest of them all to start with, but now she looked anything but. Her eyes had turned cold, and there was no hint of a wag in her stumpy tail.

  ‘I like to think of myself more as an … unexpected guest,’ I said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

  ‘We don’t let just anyone into Buckingham Palace, you know,’ Vulcan said. He seemed by far the grumpiest of the dogs, and with the shortest legs. Maybe he had short dog syndrome, I mused. A need to feel more important than he was.

  Mind you, he was a Royal Pet. That had to count for something.

  Candy and Vulcan turned to Willow, presumably for guidance on what to do next. The only other corgi in the room was clearly the leader of the pack – understandably. Corgis are always the dogs you want to turn to for leadership and good sense.

  I just hoped that Willow would come down on my side. She didn’t seem any happier about my presence in the Palace than Vulcan was.

  ‘Well, I suppose this will all get cleared up when She returns, and tosses you back out onto the streets where you belong.’ Willow sniffed. ‘Until then … it does indeed appear that we have an unwelcome guest.’

  Candy and Vulcan echoed th
e sniff, and turned their backs on me, all three of them padding off towards their own baskets. Willow had made her opinion clear – and the others would follow it.

  So much for my making new friends while I was at the Palace. The dogs all hated me and She, whoever she was, would be throwing me out again in no time.

  It seemed I was unwanted, unwelcome, and worst of all – unable to get home to my family.

  Well. They might have ideas about the sort of dog I wasn’t, but clearly they had no idea what sort of a corgi I was.

  Because I wasn’t the sort of corgi who gave up that easily. And they’d all learn that soon enough.

  ‘I bet you lovely creatures are ready for breakfast, right?’

  I raised my head from my paws and saw a blonde human with a bag of dog food standing in the doorway to the Corgi Room.

  My saviour!

  Who needed the pampered Palace pets, anyway? All I needed was a human that could see sense. I bounded over towards her, hoping I could make her understand, somehow, that I wasn’t meant to be there. That I needed to go home.

  She smiled, and bent down to pat my fur. ‘You must be our new boy! I heard you’d decided to stay with us at the Palace after all. Good choice. What was your name again?’ Lifting the tag from my collar, she read it out. ‘Henry. Very royal. Very appropriate. Well, I’m Sarah. Sarah Morgan. Pleased to meet you, Henry.’

  She held out a hand and I raised a paw to meet it, glad that shaking hands was the one trick Jack had insisted I learn. It meant I didn’t feel totally out of my depth here, even if everything about Buckingham Palace was new and strange – and Willow had ideas about how a corgi was supposed to behave that I apparently could never match up to.

  Pulling four silver-coloured bowls from the shelf on the wall, Sarah laid them on the floor in front of us.

  ‘Now, I believe there’s a very strict order for this,’ she said, smiling. ‘But I’m afraid I’m new here too, so you’ll have to forgive me if I get it wrong.’