Love among the corgis

Published date14 February 2021
Publication titlePeople, The
The recent marriage of the Prince of Wales to Lady Diana Spencer had forced the thoughts of the whole world in this direction. But Di-mania was not the reason I was here. Rather, expediency. Until recently I'd been on the housekeeping fast-track at a five-star hotel. But I'd had to leave after the collapse of my relationship with a love-rat deputy manager. As I'd also lived in the hotel this meant I was effectively homeless and so the employment agency's offer of a job with accommodation in the royal household was not to be sniffed at.

I sniffed, nonetheless. What I'd really wanted to do - besides never fall for a colleague again - was work in an animal shelter. I had done this briefly when I was at school, and loved it, but those jobs were usually voluntary and didn't come with housing. Even so, I wasn't a monarchist, and said so.

"Well, the royal household certainly won't do for you then," the agency lady said. "It's very hard work and romantic liaisons are discouraged."

I had been collecting my things to leave but I stopped. "Wait," I said.

'I saw him being dragged by nine boisterous dogs'

Non-monarchist though I was, the thought of regularly seeing the Queen, or even better, Princess Diana, was undeniably exciting. As it turned out, this was the absolute opposite of what was required of a member of H-branch, the palace housekeeping unit. Whenever a royal family member appeared, the head housekeeper told me, I was to hide; whether behind a door, in an under-stairs cupboard, or behind a curtain, even.

The head housekeeper then showed me the labyrinth of kitchens, pantries and boiler rooms which kept the palace running. There were special rooms for everything from silver-polishing to flower-arranging. We were in the laundry when a tall, good-looking young man entered wearing a tailcoat and a disdainful expression. "Towels," he said shortly, dropping a pile at my feet before sweeping off. "Whose towels?" I asked, struck both by his haughty manner and the filthiness of the pile.

"The corgis'," said Mrs Barrington. "He's the

Queen's new footman. It's his job to walk them."

I quickly settled in to my new duties. Being numerous and arduous they were the perfect distraction from my recent miseries. And the palace, with its red carpets, glittering chandeliers and copious gilding, was hotel-like, so felt familiar. But it was odd having to jump out of the way whenever anyone royal came near. Those not obliged to were resented by the cleaning staff. The snooty...

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