‘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