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 what 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.’
