‘I was at a party,’ I said, closing my eyes again. ‘Up in the servants corridor.’
There was a shocked silence. Then all three of them started talking at once.
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘That really is taking this being friendly thing too far!’
Apparently more sleep was off the table.
With a sigh, I got up to my paws, and hopped down from my basket.
‘Look, Oliver wanted Sarah to go with him, so I went as her guard dog. Some of the other staff haven’t been very nice to her.’ Understatement of the year, but I knew that the other dogs wouldn’t necessarily understand how that felt.
‘Probably because she doesn’t know her place yet,’ Vulcan said, obviously trying to sound wise.
‘Her place is here, at the Palace,’ I said firmly. ‘And with Oliver.’
‘Perhaps,’ Willow said. ‘But it does take a very special sort of person to work for Her.’
‘Sarah is special,’ I snapped back. ‘Much more special than the rest of them.’
Candy stood staring balefully at me, but she didn’t speak out to defend Sarah, either.
‘We’ll see,’ was all Willow would say. I could tell she didn’t believe it though.
I didn’t have to stay and listen to this. Turning my back on the three of them, I stalked out of the Corgi Room and down the corridor, muttering about snobbish dogs who wouldn’t know a good person if they bit one. Which they probably would.
Over the last week I’d explored most of the Palace, a room at a time. I’m sure it had many more secrets – maybe even more secret passageways, like the mirrored door Sarah had shown me in the White Drawing Room – but this morning I wasn’t in a hurry to hunt them out. Instead, I just wandered the corridors, thinking.
There was so much about the world inside Buckingham Palace that didn’t make sense to me. But the most confusing thing of all was the attitude of the other dogs. In my experiences, people who cared about you, who took care of you, who were kind to you – those were the people you devoted yourself to. And for me, here, that person was Sarah.
At home, of course, it was the Walkers – and I couldn’t help but miss them, every day, however kind Sarah and Oliver were.
But who was it for Willow, Candy and Vulcan?
I stopped, halfway into a new room, as a thought struck me.
The Queen. That was who they loved – who cared for them, loved them and was kind to them. She fed them, walked them, brushed them … and She wasn’t here. Willow had said that She nearly always took them with Her, whenever She travelled, but this time She hadn’t. And, in fact, She’d taken a new dog instead.
Of course they were grumpy and difficult. They were missing their Person, the same way I was missing the Walkers.
In a way, we were all in the same boat. Except the Queen would be back soon, and I would be out on my ear – still without my family.
I heard a door shut somewhere behind me, and trotted all the way into the room to keep thinking about this. The room I was in had a strange light in the centre, a bit like an upside down umbrella. There was all the usual gold on the walls, and regal decorations – things I’d almost become used to over the last week.
But the most interesting thing was the fact there was also an open door. That led to outside!
Glancing back over my flanks, to check no one was watching me, I padded over to the door. It was a glass one, like a giant window, and obviously it had been left ajar by accident. I pushed it with my nose to open it fully, and looked out.
In my excitement to find an open door, I’d forgotten one very important thing: I was still on the first floor.
The door didn’t lead, as I’d hoped, to a new area of outside I’d not explored yet. Instead, it led to a long, stone balcony, looking out over the forecourt to the Palace.
I pressed my nose between two of the stone columns that made up the balcony wall, and looked out through the gap.
The first thing that struck me was how far I could see – in the distance, I could see tall buildings and oddly shaped structures, then a long, straight road lined with trees and parks, all the way up to a roundabout with a large, stone statue topped with a golden figure. All those places I’d never been – all those parks I’d never run in.
A pigeon flew past, and I almost jumped out to chase it – before I remembered the huge drop down to the ground. I stepped back, more securely on the balcony, and watched the pigeon as it fluttered down to the ground.
And then I saw something far more familiar.
There were the railings I’d stood at with Amy, Jack and Claire. There was the road we’d walked down. There were the bushes I’d disappeared through.
This was where I’d lost my family, and now I was imprisoned here at the Palace, until someone learned the truth about me.
I was about to turn back and head inside, out of the freezing December wind, when something caught my eye. A dark head and a lighter one, pressed up against the railings down below. A bright red, puffy coat I recognised from an epic shopping trip with Amy and Claire. A battered bag covered in patches that Jack would never throw out.
And they were holding up a white piece of paper, trying to show it to whoever was on the other side of the railings – one of the police guards, by the look of things.
Jack and Claire.
They’d come looking for me after all! They hadn’t forgotten me!
Frantically, I barked my loudest, jumping up to try and get my front paws on the top of the balcony, in the hope of being seen over the top.
But Jack and Claire never even looked up. I was too far away for them to see or hear me.
‘What are you doing out here?’ A cross voice behind me made me jump back down to the floor of the balcony. I turned to find Jessica standing behind me in the open door, her hands on her hips. ‘If you fall off there, there’ll be hell to pay. And you just know it’ll be my fault, somehow. Come on, in with you.’
She tried to get me inside by waving her arms towards the door, but I turned back for one last look at my lost family.
Down below, Jack and Claire were turning away too. Walking away from the railings. Away from the Palace.
Away from me.
I watched, until they were almost out of sight. And then I followed Jessica back inside, whimpering slightly as she locked the balcony door behind us.
I wondered if that might be the last time I ever saw Jack and Claire, ever again.
The corridors and rooms of the Palace felt vast and empty, as I made my way back towards the Corgi Room. I no longer saw the splendour of the Palace, or noticed the golden threads in the carpet under my paws. I missed the scruffy stripy carpet of the hallway at the Walkers’ house, and the pile of shoes that never quite made it onto the shoe rack (and so were ripe for the occasional chewing).
I missed home. And I missed my people.
‘What’s up with you?’ Candy followed me across the room as I slunk back to my basket.
‘Nothing,’ I lied.
‘Homesick?’ Candy guessed, as she jumped up into my basket with me.
‘Maybe.’ Definitely.
‘You know, Christmas with the Royals isn’t so bad. You might even have fun.’ Candy pressed her nose against my side. ‘It might even make you want to stay with us.’
‘If that’s even an option.’ I was still waiting to be discovered and tossed out on my ear.
‘I think it could be,’ Candy replied. ‘She is a bit of a soft touch when it comes to corgis. I don’t think She’d throw you out with nowhere to go.’
I tilted my head to one side. I hadn’t considered that possibility before, but now that Candy said it – rather than Vulcan spreading his poison – it almost made sense. After all, a Queen who hand fed and brushed Her dogs, took them almost everywhere with Her, walked them Herself and didn’t like others touching them … that was a Queen who loved dogs. And a Queen who took in an old friend�
�s pet after they died, just to make sure the dog had a good home in its old age … that wasn’t a Queen who would throw a dog out into the snow at Christmas. Was it?
And it wasn’t like there wasn’t enough space at the Palace for one more small, well-behaved corgi.
It just wasn’t the same as being at my home for Christmas.
I settled down a bit more comfortably in my basket, as Candy curled herself around my side.
‘So, tell me a little more about Christmas at the Palace,’ I said.
Candy shrugged. ‘Well, first of all, we don’t spend it at the Palace. Well, not this one, anyway.’
‘Wait.’ I sat up straighter again. ‘You have this incredible Palace, all decked out for Christmas, and you don’t even spend Christmas Day here?’
‘No. We go to Sandringham.’ Candy tilted her head. ‘We have a family Christmas lunch here before we go, though. So I suppose that’s why they put up a few baubles and things.’
‘A few baubles … have you even walked around to look at all the decorations in this place?’
‘Well, I’ve seen a few of them. On my way to dinner or a walk, and such.’
All this magnificence, and the dogs who lived here didn’t even appreciate it.
‘That’s it.’ I hopped back down from my basket. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Where are we going?’ Candy asked, but she followed me all the same as I trotted towards the door.
‘I’m going to show you this Palace through my eyes, for a change,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
I started with the Grand Staircase, making Candy stop and stare at all the brightly coloured baubles hung from the garlands that twined down the bannisters.
‘They are very pretty, I suppose.’ Candy stared at her reflection in one of them. ‘So this is what you wanted me to see?’
‘This is just the start,’ I assured her. ‘Let’s keep going.’
I knew my way around the Palace well enough now to lead Candy to all my favourite spots. I took her through the Bow Room, with its enormous tree, laden with red and gold decorations. I took her through banqueting rooms with sprigs of holly and bright red berries in vases on every table. And with every part of the Palace I showed her, I talked about how Christmas was at home, with the Walkers.
I saved the best for last, though. Just when Candy was starting to complain that her paws were sore, I led her to the Grand Entrance, with its three huge trees all lit up and sparkling.
‘Do you see, now?’ I asked. ‘How this place must look to people who weren’t born here.’
‘I think so,’ Candy said. ‘But your Christmases, with the Walkers … they sound just magical.’
‘This place is magical,’ I admitted. ‘This Palace … it’s like something out of a movie. But Christmas at the Walkers’ … that’s my home. That’s what feels right to me.’
‘I think I can understand that,’ Candy said, leaning against my side, as we stared up at the trees, twinkling in the night. ‘We always spend Christmas at Sandringham, so that’s where my best Christmas memories are. This Palace … it’s so huge, and the Queen is always so busy when we’re here. But when we’re away and it’s just us and the family … that’s the best time. We all get red stockings on Christmas morning, filled with treats and toys. And there’s always a long walk on Christmas morning – even in the snow some years. Then we all snuggle by the fire … That’s Christmas to me, you see. Not all the decorations and fuss.’
‘That makes sense,’ I admitted. ‘For me, Christmas is curling up with Jack and Claire as they open their presents. It’s a walk in the park while Amy’s cooking the dinner, and watching a Christmas movie together once it gets dark.’
‘I hope you get that again for Christmas,’ Candy said. ‘Because I know it’s what will make you happy. But …’
‘But?’ I prompted.
She gave me a small smile, and rested her head against mine. ‘But I wish you could stay with us, too, at the same time. Does that make any sense?’
I swallowed a lump in my throat. ‘Yes. Yes it does.’
Because as much as I still wanted to go home, to my family, I wasn’t quite ready to leave the Palace behind yet, either. Or the people – and dogs – who lived there.
AMY
Amy made it home from the clinic before Jack and Claire returned from London. She sat at the kitchen table, a mug of tea at hand, and read back through each of the text messages she’d received – on the hour, every hour – through the day.
They started out so full of hope, so optimistic that any moment now they were going to catch a break or find a lead. But as the day had worn on, they’d grown less certain, less hopeful. Now it was fully dark outside, and the last one read:
Still nothing. Heading to station now. Home soon.
Still nothing. That was how this whole season had felt, for Amy. Like she was still getting nowhere, no matter how hard she tried. Like trudging through a snowdrift, and getting blown backwards by the wind. Like when she finally got a night out, and the chance to feel like Amy again, singing karaoke with Luke Fitzgerald, only to be dragged back to the real world by Jim’s phone call.
The future felt an awfully lonely place, right now.
She shook her head. She couldn’t let the kids see her moping around like this, and they’d be home any second.
Instead, she got to her feet and turned the radio on, tuning it in to whoever was playing Christmas music right now. Then she pulled a couple of packs of chocolate Christmas decorations out from the cupboard. The kids had always loved hanging them on the tree – and insisting they had to eat whichever ones didn’t have threads attached to hang them with. It was always amazing how many defective ones they found – and how many extra threads she found hidden around the place afterwards.
Amy had just hunted down the scissors to open the packet, when the front door crashed into the telephone table, indicating that the kids were home at last.
‘Hey, how did it go?’ She met them in the hallway with a smile on her face, but neither Jack nor Claire returned it.
‘Waste of time.’ Jack brushed past her to throw his coat over the end of the bannister, and add his shoes to the pile that never quite seemed to make it onto the shoe rack. Amy smiled sadly at the shoes – all unchewed, without Henry there. Just another sign of their loss – like the small pile of food scraps she kept finding under the kitchen table after dinner, which she knew were there because Claire had forgotten, again, that there was no Henry around to eat up the bits she didn’t like.
‘We looked everywhere,’ Claire said, quietly. ‘No one had seen Henry. Not even at the Dogs and Cats home.’
Amy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. ‘At least you tried.’
‘Don’t know why we bothered,’ Jack muttered. ‘Henry’s never coming home. Just like Dad.’
Ouch. Amy’s heart contracted at the pain in her son’s voice. She had a feeling that chocolate tree decorations weren’t going to come close to fixing this, but they were all she had to offer right now.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ve got chocolates to put on the tree. We can put a Christmas movie on and I’ll make hot chocolate too, if you like. What do you say?’
It took some cajoling, but no one could turn down her hot chocolate. Amy hummed ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ under her breath as she added the whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, and carried the mugs through to the lounge. She smiled as she noticed that a few chocolates were already missing, and that The Muppet Christmas Carol was playing on the TV.
‘I love that you both still love the Muppets,’ she said, handing out the mugs.
Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, we put it on because it’s your favourite. Not ours.’
Amy’s throat felt tight. ‘Then, thank you, sweetheart.’
‘This chocolate has no string,’ Jack declared, tearing the thread from the wrapper without even trying to be stealthy about it. Then he handed it to Amy. ‘You better eat it.’
For a moment, while the Muppets sang, the Christmas tree lights twinkled, and the world tasted of chocolate, Amy started to think that maybe, just maybe, things were getting better.
And then the phone rang. Again.
She was starting to hate phones.
‘Hi, Jim.’ Amy tried not to sigh at the sound of his voice, but it was hard. She signalled to the kids that she was taking the phone through to the kitchen, and saw them exchange a look. Had they been talking about Jim and her on their day trip to London? Probably. She’d give up hot chocolate for a year to know what they’d each said.
‘Amy. Hi.’ Jim sounded stiff, constrained. Amy wondered if Bonnie was right there, listening in, making sure he said whatever they’d agreed on. Like she’d used to have to do when he called his mother to tell her when they’d be visiting.
‘What’s up?’ Amy sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and stared at the clock on the wall. It had stopped six months ago, so it wasn’t much help in actually telling the time, but it did emphasise how long the pause before Jim spoke felt.
‘Bonnie and I were thinking it would be nice to have the kids round on New Year’s Day. Once we’re back from France.’
‘Oh.’ Amy didn’t miss the way it was Bonnie’s idea too – or that it meant that they were living together, and he planned to introduce the kids to her. A new year, a new start – and a new family for her children. Just what they wanted, she was sure. Not.
But moving on – that was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
‘We thought it would help you out, too,’ Jim went on, suddenly eager. ‘You know, give you a break from the kids.’
Amy blinked. ‘Wait. Are you honestly trying to tell me that you introducing our kids to your new girlfriend is doing me a favour?’
Jim sighed. ‘I don’t want this to be difficult. I just wanted to spend some time with Jack and Claire over the holidays.’
Which is why you’re going skiing for most of the two weeks they’re off school. Right.
She didn’t say it, because this was what she wanted, really. She wanted the kids to have a good relationship with their dad. She wanted Jim to make an effort to be an important part of their lives. And more than anything, she wanted to move on, to get to the next stage of whatever this was.
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