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Next, to my astonishment, Her Majesty retrieved something dark and hairy from the wardrobe and tugged it over her head—a wig! This was followed, a short while later, by a cap with the intertwined initials NY emblazoned prominently on the front. Finally came the large and obviously fake Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. The transformation was complete!
As she donned her disguise, I noticed the Queen’s posture changing. Her usual regal reserve was replaced by a casual jauntiness. Like a shapeshifter, she seemed to be morphing into a different kind of being.
‘Come on, little one!’ She leaned down, hands on her knees, with a playful expression. ‘Walkies!’
It started well; better than well. Being outside on a glorious day, free from the constraints of being inside with all the usual protocols, we could all simply enjoy being alive on a spring morning. A number of secret servicemen had already been deployed by the time we left the security of the palace. I was some way ahead of the Queen, my own identity, if not disguised, then at least distracted by the presence of the two German shepherds with whom I trotted politely, our leashes in the hands of a plain-clothes policewoman, Detective Lewis.
As it happened, the dog handler wasn’t around at that hour of the morning, but because the purpose of the German shepherds was unofficial, that absence wasn’t thought to matter. Detective Lewis, it was believed, could easily handle a walk in the park.
Some distance behind us, Her Majesty was accompanied by Huchens. There were more plain-clothes policemen behind them. As we made our way through the leafy luxuriance of Buckingham Palace Gardens, I took in the beautiful shrubs and trees of so many different shades of green. The fountains in the ornamental lakes were gushing plumes of silver in the morning light. There were some people about, but we seemed to be sharing the gardens mainly with teeming birdlife. This included several rafts of ducks—a kind of bird I had never seen before. I was fascinated to watch them swimming in the ponds. As they dived below the surface, only their bobbing tail feathers protruded and I became even more intrigued.
We had completed a wide circuit of the gardens and were on our way home, when the temptation simply became too great. Twelve ducks stood in the middle of the lawn, a fair distance from the ponds. From some part of my being that I didn’t even know existed, I felt a sudden, urgent instinct to herd them. Should they not be in the pond, rather than on the grass? The way they were waddling around and preening themselves was deliberately provocative. Impertinent! As a herding dog, was it not my civic duty to tidy the place up? Not to mention that it would be enormous fun.
I gave a jolt. A split second before I did, Detective Lewis’ phone vibrated in her pocket. At that vital moment, she was caught off guard. To my own very great surprise—and joy—I was free!
Tugging the leash from her hand, I raced across the lawns and was rewarded almost instantly with a loud squawking of alarm. Some of the ducks quacked into immediate take-off, shedding feathers as they went. Others were lurching frantically towards the pond, as fast as their orange galoshes would take them. Barking with excitement, I raced in a wide arc, rounding them up like a seasoned pro. I was thrilled. Energised. Empowered. Within seconds, there wasn’t a single duck remaining on the grass.
There were, however, quite a number of passers-by who had turned to watch my vigorous performance. People crossing the gardens on their way to work stared in my direction. Several early morning tourists paused and pointed. The word ‘corgi!’ floated on the breeze. In the next instant came the word, ‘Queen!’ It was then that I began to realise what I’d done.
Several men materialised from the atmosphere. I recognised them immediately as special branch detectives from the palace. They were approaching rapidly from either side, while Detective Lewis and the two German shepherds hurried towards me. I looked about to see that Huchens had changed direction. His SAS training kicked into action and he was leading Her Majesty from the scene of my hot pursuit, well clear of where she might be noticed by association. Rather than returning to the palace through the gardens, he was leading her instead towards a pavement.
I was very quickly apprehended and my leash held much shorter and with noticeable firmness. Detective Lewis was evidently in no mood to play. In fact, any sense of springlike zest had evaporated.
Even though the morning was just as clear and wonderful as it had been before my sortie, things seemed to have somehow shifted into a minor key. The rays of the sun felt cooler. The wind felt more bracing. Tension emanated down the leash from the police detective. The German shepherds were unsettled—I could see it in their disdainful, but somewhat envious, expressions.
The plain-clothes special branch officers seemed to vanish as mysteriously as they had appeared. Detective Lewis was leading us in the direction of the pavement, some distance behind Her Majesty.
There were very few people on the pavement so early in the morning and those who were took absolutely no notice of the Queen. Walking, hunched-up over their phones, or caught up by whatever was playing through their earbuds, they walked right past the Queen in a state of total self-absorption. Her Majesty gestured that Huchens should step ahead of her, to avoid blocking the whole pavement. And so we continued down a short distance of pavement outside the garden walls, on our way back to the palace.
There was one small intersection that we needed to cross and, as we approached it, the traffic lights were red. Rather than risk exposing the Queen by letting her stand on the corner, Huchens slowed his pace right down. There was only one shop on that particular stretch of the street. Palace Newsagency was a tiny store, not much bigger than the Grimsleys’ shed, with a door to one side and a hatch that opened directly onto the pavement. It was framed by that day’s newspapers, neatly tucked into racks. There were also many glossy magazines, their headlines prominently displayed.
One of these caught Her Majesty’s eye as she walked by at the greatly reduced speed set by Huchens. ‘Equestrian world shocked . . .’ began the headline of Racing News. The Queen halted, angling her head slightly in an attempt to read the first paragraph. What precisely was the cause of the upset, she wondered? She paused only for a few moments—seconds perhaps.
However, in that very brief time, an Indian man appeared from inside the shop. He was wearing a flowing white shirt, his head completely bald, with a radiance about his features. Touching his forehead, throat and heart with his folded hands in rapid succession, he bowed and said, ‘Would you be liking this magazine, Your Majesty Elizabeth?’
By this stage, Detective Lewis and we dogs were only a few steps behind her.
‘Oh, um . . .’ I very rarely heard her Majesty hesitate. ‘I think there’s been a mistake’ she said, in her unmistakeable voice.
‘Please.’ He was already taking the magazine from the rack and handing it to her. ‘With a thousand blessings.’
‘Well, thank you!’ She accepted it, before Huchens had stepped back to guide her away firmly by the elbow.
He was leading her across at the green light, when one of the plain-clothes detectives slipped into the shop.
‘That, um, wasn’t supposed to happen,’ he said.
‘Not to be worrying,’ replied the newsagent. ‘Her Majesty Elizabeth is interested in the horses.’
The detective nodded briskly, ‘I mean her unscheduled visit.’
‘Oh.’ The other shrugged, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. ‘I know she likes to walk in the gardens.’
Suddenly perceiving a much graver security risk, the detective frowned. ‘You do? How do you know?’
‘I can tell she is walking close by sometimes.’ The man smiled enigmatically. ‘I can sense it here.’ He touched his heart.
‘Well.’ The detective coughed. ‘That’s not my remit. But regarding today’s visit . . .’
