She shook the dry, meaty food into the first bowl. It didn’t look like the food we’d had at dinner the night before, but to be honest I’d been too scared and lost to even notice what I was eating then. In fact, I’d left most of it – meaning I was starving now.
I would have jumped forward at once to start eating, but the other three dogs held back, so I waited too. Obviously this was another Palace rule I didn’t understand. I mean, really – who waited for food?
Once the bowls were filled, Sarah stepped back and looked at us. ‘Do I need to say something? Um … eat?’
I jerked forward, but Vulcan and Candy both barked at me. ‘Not you,’ Candy said, sharply.
I backed off, and Willow stepped delicately forward, dipping her muzzle into the bowl before her and eating.
Looking more closely at the bowls, I realised they all had a name inscribed on the front of them – all except mine. Maybe they hadn’t got around to engraving the missing Monty’s bowl yet – or maybe they’d taken it with them and this was a spare. I didn’t know.
I did know it was still empty. And I was beginning to think it might be a while before it was my turn.
I was right. Next up was Vulcan, and then Candy. Both took their time eating their breakfast – probably just to annoy me. Then, finally, Sarah filled my bowl and the other dogs moved aside to let me tuck in.
Sarah laughed as I demolished the food. ‘You were hungry, huh, boy?’
I would have barked a yes, but I was too busy eating. The food was fantastic – even for dry food. Meaty and moist and filling and tasty. Just what a hungry and lost corgi needed.
Eventually, the bowl was empty. I looked up pleadingly at Sarah. It was my best look, the one that made Amy crumble every time, but Sarah was already putting the food bag away.
‘Sorry, Henry,’ she said. ‘I might be new, but even I know that rule. Only one bowl of food, and that’s it until dinner.’ She placed the bag back on the shelf and collected up the bowls. ‘See you guys later, if I’m lucky. I’m hoping that, with Her Majesty away, I might be allowed to feed you your dinner, too. I heard the chef is making you rabbit, tonight.’
She turned and left, my stomach rumbling at the very idea of rabbit. In fact, I was so distracted by the idea of dinner, it took me a moment to realise that she’d left the door open, and the other three were trotting towards it confidently.
Was this a mistake? Maybe Sarah didn’t know that the door was meant to be closed. Or, were we really allowed to go out and explore the Palace? It seemed unlikely – the whole place was too ornate, too special, for four dogs to just go wandering around. Wasn’t it?
Willow, Candy and Vulcan obviously didn’t share my concerns. They were already through the open door and out into the corridor. I paused for just a moment before following them.
Unsure of where to go, I padded along behind the other three until we reached the stairs I’d climbed up the day before.
Vulcan looked back over his flanks. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Um, downstairs?’ I hazarded a guess.
‘Okay then,’ Candy said and, before I could figure out what was happening, all three of them had turned tail and were heading along the corridor in the opposite direction to the Corgi Room. As I watched, a man in the same sort of suit Grumpy Man had worn the day before held a door open for the procession of one corgi and two Dorgis. They trotted through, imperiously, as if they were the Queen themselves, rather than just the Queen’s dogs.
The man looked at me curiously, obviously waiting to see if I’d follow. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to go anywhere I wasn’t wanted.
Which meant I just needed to find somewhere that I was wanted.
Turning away from the door, I padded down the stairs, front paws then back to manage the wide steps. Maybe downstairs would be more fun.
I took a few wrong turns before I found my way to the red room I’d entered through the day before, and then I found the door I’d come in through was closed. I looked around for a helpful man to open it, but I couldn’t see any.
Pressing my nose up against the glass of the door, I stared out at the gardens longingly. They’d been so tempting yesterday, I couldn’t help but follow that pigeon into them. Even now, I knew, if someone opened this door for me I’d race out and run around for all I was worth. I’m an outdoor dog, you see. As luxurious as this Palace was, the gardens were still my favourite bit so far.
Even if they had taken me away from my family.
Were they looking for me? I hadn’t really gone so far from where they were. I’d have thought they’d have just knocked on the door and asked if anyone had seen me. Then the grumpy man might have realised his mistake and given me back.
Sookie would be glad I was gone, anyway.
The thought of Sookie made me smile for a second, unexpectedly. Sookie, moggy that she was, would have loved the Palace. She’d have thought it was exactly where she belonged. She could do imperious even better than the Royal Dogs.
Sookie would fit right in at Buckingham Palace; I didn’t think I ever would.
No, I couldn’t think like that. If I’d found a way into the Palace, I could find a way out, too. A way home.
I knew that Buckingham Palace was a lot larger than my home, but I had no idea how much bigger until I started exploring. I stayed on the ground floor to start with, padding through luxurious room after luxurious room, all of them far bigger than any room at the Walkers’ house.
Everywhere I looked something sparkled gold or silver, or shone with lights. Under my paws, the carpets were deep and soft, and mostly a dark, rich red.
Every person I saw moved out of my way to let me trot past, like I really was one of the royal pets. And as much as I wanted someone to realise that I didn’t belong there, the fact that they didn’t gave me the confidence to continue my expedition.
Somewhere, there had to be a door that was open. One that I could escape through and find my family again. I just had to find it.
On my travels, I came across a room with a large, dark wood table in the centre, piled high with shiny silver objects. As I approached, I saw a woman wearing the same uniform that Sarah had on that morning, bustling the other way, muttering something about polish. Intrigued, I headed in.
The stack of silver on the table looked like pirate treasure from one of the movies that Jack loved to watch when he was younger, all gleaming in the sunlight from the windows. At the top of one pile, I spotted a silver bowl that looked a bit like the ones Sarah had fed us our breakfast in. Tilting my head to the side, I considered it.
It was unlikely that it still had food in it, all the way up there, right? But it would be silly not to check. Just in case. After all, once I found my escape route, I’d need all my energy to get home. A little extra food wouldn’t go amiss, in that case.
Hopping up onto a nearby chair, I pressed my front paws up against the table and peered up at the pile of silver. Still too far away to tell if there was any food waiting at the top of that pile of treasure.
In Jack’s movies, the treasure was always worth the risk it took to get it. I figured the same probably applied here.
With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching, I hopped up onto the table itself, and tentatively began to climb the pile of silver, trying to reach that bowl at the top. I balanced myself carefully between the items, making sure to keep my weight even as I climbed. The only thing I hadn’t counted on was that silver is slippy. And loud.
Just as I came within a whisker of that elusive bowl, my back paw slipped on a plate below, and suddenly everything was moving. I grappled with my claws against the dishes and plates, but it was no good – with an enormous crash, the pile of silver I was scaling smashed to the floor – sending me tumbling after it.
The bowl I’d been aiming for landed smack bang on my head.
It was empty.
‘What on earth!’ Another two members of the Palace staff came racing in to see wh
at the commotion was, and so I decided that it was probably time to scarper. Racing between their legs, I headed back the way I’d come.
Maybe one of the other dogs would know of a way out of the Palace. They seemed as eager for me to leave as I was.
Of course, I had no idea where they were, so I had little choice but to head back to the Corgi Room and wait for them.
My paws felt heavy as I climbed the stairs back to the Corgi Room. I’d barely explored a fraction of the Palace, but already I knew there was far more to this building than I could hope to see in one day.
The door to the Corgi Room was open, at least, so I slunk in and found myself alone. Settling down into my basket, I curled up and waited for one of the others to come back and help me find a way out.
But as I lay there, another, terrible thought occurred to me.
Willow had said that when She returned – whoever She was, but I was guessing probably the Queen – I’d be thrown out into the streets the minute they realised I wasn’t the real Monty. Which was fine by me, as I’d get to go home.
Except … I didn’t know my way around London, and I certainly didn’t know how to get back to the Walkers’ without help. I knew we’d come in on a train, but how would I tell which one? And even if I could, I was fairly sure they wouldn’t let me on without a human.
My grand plan of escaping was a bust – even if I could find an open door.
No, I had to try and make the best of things here at the Palace until Amy could find me – if she was even looking. And if she wasn’t … well, I was a charming dog. Maybe if I made enough friends here, they’d let me stay.
Which meant winning over Willow and the Dorgis.
Not likely.
Before I could follow this line of thought any further, a shadow appeared in the doorway. Willow.
‘Where are your henchmen?’ I asked, getting to my paws.
Willow shook her head. ‘They’re not henchmen. They’re family.’
‘And I’m not. I get it.’
‘You’re … not like us,’ Willow said, with more diplomacy than I’d heard from her so far. ‘But apparently it seems you’re going to be staying a while.’
‘You just figured that out?’ I said, channelling my inner Sookie to get the sarcastic tone just right.
‘I heard one of the footmen talking,’ Willow explained. ‘The one that held the door for us by the stairs. He said that the new dog didn’t seem to be fitting in very well, and perhaps She should have taken you with her after all.’
‘So?’
‘So, I’d assumed that the humans, like us, would have been able to see through your lack of breeding and realised you weren’t Monty. Apparently I was giving them too much credit.’
‘Sarah didn’t notice,’ I pointed out. ‘Why would you think a footman would?’ Presumably, the grumpy man from yesterday was a footman, then. There seemed to be a few of them running around the Palace. I wondered what their jobs were.
‘Well, she’s like you, isn’t she?’ Willow said.
‘You mean new?’
‘I mean … an outsider. She wasn’t born to this. She doesn’t know how it all works, yet.’ Willow hopped up into her own basket, turning around a few times before settling down. ‘She’ll learn, or she’ll leave.’
Also like me, I realised. If I wanted to stay here long enough for the Walkers to find me, I needed to fit in, so they didn’t realise I wasn’t Monty. Which meant learning more about the place.
And I knew just the person to teach me.
‘So, tell me about Monty,’ I said, jumping down to pad over towards Willow’s basket. I settled myself on the carpet below where her wicker basket rested just a little above the ground. ‘And this place. How come you all get your own room? And what’s with the baskets not being on the floor?’
All valid questions, I thought – and I had plenty more. But Willow gave me a look like I was the stupidest dog in the world. Which she probably thought I was.
‘Monty is the latest addition to our pack,’ Willow said. ‘We haven’t actually met him properly yet, but given his pedigree, and his previous owners, I’m sure he’ll fit in fine. He’ll understand the hierarchy, for a start.’
‘The hierarchy?’ Maybe I really was as clueless as Willow thought. I had no idea what that word even meant.
‘Of course. The dog who has been here the longest – me, in this case – is the leader. The queen, as it were. The others follow in the order in which they arrived.’
‘So Vulcan, Candy then me,’ I guessed. ‘That explains the order for breakfast and such. I didn’t even notice last night.’
‘Well, you were late,’ Willow pointed out. ‘Another mark against you. Punctuality is a virtue – especially where dinner is concerned.’
That, we could both agree on. ‘So, Monty would be at the bottom of the pack too, then?’ I supposed that made sense. Sookie had been with the Walkers for a year longer than I had, and she always made it clear that she thought she was the leader, too. Of course, Sookie would probably have done that even if I’d been there years before her. That was just Sookie.
Was it weird that I was actually starting to miss that mean old cat?
‘Of course. Besides, Monty isn’t really a Royal Pet, you know.’ Willow leant out of her basket slightly, talking down to me as if exchanging top-secret information (like where the treats were kept). ‘She decided a few years ago that She wouldn’t get any more pets – I mean, obviously we were companionship enough for Her, so why would She need them?’
‘But She got Monty.’
‘Yes.’ Willow pulled a face. ‘But only because She’s so kind-hearted. His previous owner was a friend of Hers – an earl, of course – and when he died She offered to take him in. She explained it all to us first, of course.’
‘She sounds kind,’ I said. I’d never really thought all that much about the Queen before, but given the luxurious surroundings She gave her dogs, I supposed She must be.
‘She is the kindest human, or owner, any dog could hope to have,’ Willow said, firmly, as if daring me to doubt it.
I didn’t.
‘It was Her mother, you know, who set out our routine.’
‘Her mother?’
‘The Queen Mother,’ Willow clarified, although it still meant nothing to me. ‘She recognised our superior qualities, as a breed, I suppose, and made sure that the Royal Dogs would live a life suited to their status.’
‘Such as baskets raised off the floor?’
‘To avoid draughts.’
‘And I suppose you get all sorts of treat foods and things, right?’ I said hopefully. Maybe something good could come of this adventure, after all. ‘Scraps from the Queen’s table, doggy chocolate drops, that sort of thing?’
Willow looked scandalised. ‘Not at all! We have a very strict diet, developed specially for us and our well-being. She would never dream of doing anything less.’
I sank down onto my haunches. ‘Strict diet’ didn’t sound like a lot of fun, if I was honest.
‘It’s not what you’re used to, of course,’ Willow said. ‘I suppose you must – what? Hunt for your own food? Raid the bins, or what have you?’
Now it was my turn to look horrified. ‘Of course not!’ Although, actually … ‘Well, not if I don’t want to.’
‘So you have an owner, then.’
‘Yes, of course I do. I told you this morning – the Walkers.’
Willow looked at me blankly.
‘My family. Jim and Amy and Jack and Claire.’
Willow gave a small shrug. ‘I thought they were just like our walkers. People who walk us, when She is busy.’
‘They’re much, much more than that,’ I said. ‘They’re like She is to you.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Willow said.
‘I would.’
‘Hmm.’ She eyed me carefully for a few moments. ‘I suppose you want to get back to them, then.’
‘Very much.’ I’d spent a restless
night imagining how they’d all be coping without me. And whether Sookie had stolen my favourite squeaky toy yet. ‘The last place I saw them was just outside the Palace, before we got … separated. I’ve spent today searching for an open door out of here … except I realised, I don’t know where I’d go if I found one. So instead I’m hoping that Amy will keep looking for me, and realise I must be here in the end, and come calling to pick me up.’
‘Which means you have to stay here long enough for that to happen,’ Willow surmised.
‘Exactly.’
She gave a doggy sigh. ‘Well, in that case, I suppose I’d better fill you in on how we do things around here. See if we can stop you standing out quite so much.’
‘Is it really so obvious that I don’t belong here?’ I asked. Surely, when you got down to it, a dog was as good as any other dog, after all.
But Willow laughed. ‘Of course! Only truly special dogs get to live the life of a Royal Pet, you know.’
And, I realised, in Willow’s eyes, I was nothing special at all.
Showed what little she knew, right?
Later, when dinner time came around, I was prepared. And also starving.
Willow had patiently (and patronisingly) talked me through a day at the Palace, giving me a little history along the way. Tomorrow, she promised, she’d take me with her so she could ‘train me up properly’ – a phrase I disliked immediately. After all, the Walkers had already trained me. I didn’t need some posh corgi telling me how to do things.
But then Willow had added, ‘If you’re going to be a Royal Pet, you’re going to have to learn a whole new lifestyle, you realise.’ She surveyed me, and sighed. ‘I’ve never had to work with such raw material before, but I suppose I’ll see what I can do. A good teacher should be able to instruct even the roughest of dogs, and you are, at least, a corgi.’
The one thing we had in common. Our breed. But even that didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy Willow. Willow, I’d realised quickly, was a snob. And her snobbishness had rubbed off on the other two dogs, too.
‘So gracious of you,’ I’d muttered. Oh well. At least following the other dogs around might be more entertaining than being shunned and ignored by them. ‘Now, why don’t you start by telling me about dinner?’
Henry the Queen's Corgi Page 4