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.
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.’
Sunday 15th December
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