The Tattoo Fox Makes New Friends

by Alasdair Hutton

  ‘Riccio’s murder must have been a terrible shock,’ said Sir Simon. He assured her of his continuing protection and loyalty. ‘We have known each other for such a long time,’ he continued. ‘You know you can trust me.’

  The Tattoo Fox remembered a story the Castle Cat had told her, of the brutal murder of David Riccio, the Queen’s secretary, in Holyrood Palace.

  The Queen and Sir Simon continued to walk in silence, until four women – the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting – entered the garden. One of them was carrying a howling baby. ‘Your Royal Highness,’ said the lady-in-waiting, ‘he wants his maman.’ She handed the baby to the Queen, and he immediately quietened and smiled up at her.

  ‘He is always happier away from the Palace of Holyroodhouse,’ the Queen told Sir Simon. ‘Away from Lord Darnley.’ She hugged the baby to her, then thanked Sir Simon for his company and walked with her son and ladies-in-waiting back to the Castle.

  The fox shook her head. The castle now looked as it had when she arrived. ‘It’s as if I was in a strange dream,’ she said. ‘So much unhappiness. How sad the Queen was.’

  ‘It all happened nearly four hundred and fifty years ago,’ said the hare. ‘There is nothing we can do about it now. Mary Queen of Scots had a very sad life in many ways. I like to think Craigmillar Castle was one of the places she was happiest.’

  The audience was leaving and the actors were packing away their costumes, laughing and chatting. Everything was back to normal.

  ‘I should go,’ said the fox. ‘But thank you. Please accept my invitation to the Tattoo Party. If you wouldn’t mind coming into the centre of the city, I think you would enjoy it very much. There are bands and pipers and dancers and singers. It’s noisy, but great fun.’

  ‘I often watch the Tattoo fireworks from here,’ said the hare. ‘It would be wonderful to see them up close. And I love music. Yes please, I would love to come.’

  The Tattoo Fox gave one last look at Craigmillar Castle. Like so many places in Edinburgh, it had its ghosts. She trotted down the hill, making her way home back to her den.

  11

  The Uninvited Guests

  The Tattoo Fox fulfils her dream

  When at last she meets the Queen

  One morning the Castle Cat arrived at the foxes’ den at quite a speed. ‘I have exciting news!’ he said.

  The foxes rushed to greet him. The kits were almost as big as their parents these days.

  ‘The soldiers are preparing for the Queen’s visit. They say that she will be here next week,’ he announced.

  ‘Is she visiting Edinburgh Castle?’ asked the Tattoo Fox.

  ‘No,’ said the cat, ‘so we will visit her.’

  ‘I’m happy to stay here with the kits,’ said the dog fox quickly. The kits were big enough to be left on their own, but everybody knew he wanted an excuse to stay at home.

  ‘Just us, then!’ said the cat cheerfully. ‘Like old times. I’ll make a plan. In the meantime, make sure your coat is as clean and shiny as possible, and your tail fluffy and groomed.’

  Two evenings later the cat came to tell the fox to be ready the following day. The fox could hardly sleep for excitement and was ready long before the Castle Cat arrived, looking very smart with his fur groomed, his whiskers straightened and his paws clean. It was a sunny day as the two friends set off by their secret ways and emerged close to the Canongate, at the foot of the Royal Mile. Police and traffic wardens were lining up barriers along the road.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked the fox. ‘Isn’t it time you explained?’

  ‘Very well.’ The cat purred louder than ever before. ‘Today the Queen is holding a party in the garden of the Palace of Holyroodhouse and there will be thousands of guests. Her Garden Parties are wonderful occasions. But we must be careful that we are not spotted and chased away.’

  A Japanese tourist took a photo of them with his mobile phone and showed it to all his friends.

  ‘That’s not a terribly good start,’ said the cat frostily, and stalked off towards the Scottish Parliament building. They sat and watched the Palace from beside a shrub.

  ‘Quick!’ said the cat suddenly. A catering van had just arrived with food for the Garden Party and a policeman was opening the gate to let it in. The two friends sprinted through behind the van, unnoticed.

  ‘Excellent!’ said the cat, his spirits restored.

  Men and women in smart aprons were setting up tables inside two long open-fronted tents. Others brought glasses and cups and saucers, and piles of small plates. They set out platters of little sandwiches and cakes for all the Queen’s guests. In two little pavilions at opposite ends of the garden some military bandsmen were tuning their instruments, putting up their music stands and arranging their seats.

  ‘Marvellous!’ said the cat. He loved the sound of bands. ‘Now, let’s make sure that we have a good view.’ The two friends prowled the flowerbeds to find the best place to hide, and the best place from which to see the Queen.

  A man was gently knocking slender stakes into the grass with a mallet. ‘That’s my good friend Mr Tymoczko, The Officer from the Royal Company of Archers,’ said the cat. ‘He’s marking out two avenues for the Royal Family to walk down. Guests form a line down either side hoping the Queen – or one of her family – will say hello on the way to their tea tent. The Archers maintain order.’

  ‘Will they fire arrows if people misbehave?’ asked the fox.

  ‘People usually behave at the Queen’s Garden Parties,’ the cat reassured her.

  All of a sudden there was a terrific sound of sniffing and snorting and a dog pushed his way through the undergrowth, stopping just in front of them. With a hiss, the cat dived deep into the shrubbery, but the fox stood her ground. The dog looked strangely familiar.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ he wuffed. ‘Of all the foxes in all the world, it’s the Tattoo Fox!’ His tail wagged in circles. ‘How have you been?’

  The fox gave a shake of relief. Of course! It was the sniffer dog she’d met last summer at the Tattoo. After a prickly start they had become

  good friends.

  ‘We’ve come to see the Queen,’ she said. ‘Please don’t give us away.’

  ‘Of course I won’t! You are alright. But was that a cat I saw with you?’

  ‘I am the Castle Cat,’ the cat replied, emerging from a shrub as if he hadn’t been in the least scared.

  ‘That’s fine, just don’t cause any trouble,’ the sniffer dog replied cheerfully. ‘Better head off. Lots of royal garden to check. I’m extremely busy. My handler has exceptionally high standards. Oh, and a tip for you – the guests have trouble drinking their tea and eating their sandwiches and cakes at the same time, so there’s always lots of food dropped on the ground.’ He winked and rushed off.

  ‘That dog is a little uncouth,’ said the cat. ‘But it was good of him to tell us about the food.’

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to invite him to the Tattoo Party!’ exclaimed the fox. She hoped he’d be back.

  Soon people began to stroll round the garden. They were all smartly dressed. Most of the ladies wore fancy hats with their summer dresses. Some wobbled on very high heels. A few men wore top hats and tail coats, and others wore kilts or tartan trews. But the fox and the cat were particularly interested in the guests wearing their national costumes.

  ‘They are from different Commonwealth countries,’ explained the cat.

  ‘It’s the Commonwealth Games soon,’ the fox said. ‘They must be here for that.’

  ‘The Commonwealth Games are in Glasgow,’ said the cat, as if that might be a problem.

  ‘There are trains from Waverley Station every fifteen minutes,’ the fox reminded him. She wouldn’t mind going there one of these days.

  The bands struck up, first one and then the other. The Castle Cat was in his element as they played all his favourite show tunes. Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd and the fox saw a door open at the top of an iron stairway leading from the p
alace.

  ‘She’s here!’ cried the cat and immediately stood to attention.

  Through the doorway walked the Queen, followed by other members of the royal family. They all waited while the nearest band played the National Anthem. Then the Queen made her way down into the garden, walking slowly along one of the avenues chatting to the guests. The avenues led to the Royal Tea Tent and the Archers stood round in a circle so that people could see the Queen and her guests – but from a distance.

  ‘Isn’t she magnificent?’ said the Castle Cat dreamily.

  ‘I’m going to have a closer look,’ decided the fox.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ the cat hissed. ‘We’re not exactly on the royal guest list.’

  But the fox’s mind was made up. She darted out of the bushes onto the lawn, winding through the legs of the guests and towards the royal tea tent. The cat followed. He couldn’t possibly leave her unprotected, after all.

  The royal guests were enjoying their tea and sandwiches. They chatted about this and that, and commented on the warm weather, a perfect day for a Royal Garden Party. Suddenly a beautiful fox and a handsome cat appeared on the grass in front of the tent. There was a moment’s hush and then people began to laugh and applaud as the fox walked forward and bowed to the Queen. The cat wasn’t going to be left out. He followed and bowed too, purring loudly. The Queen looked round and smiled broadly at her guests. Then the fox and the cat sprinted back the way they had come.

  One of the Archers said to another, ‘Should we have stopped them?’

  ‘Probably, but they were very polite. And they can move faster than we can.’ The two men laughed. They were trained for many emergencies, but not that one.

  The Tattoo Fox and the Castle Cat lay flat under the bush, jubilant. Before long a familiar sniffing and snorting alerted them to the arrival of the sniffer dog.

  ‘You pair take the biscuit!’ he yapped, running round in circles again. ‘My handler couldn’t believe his eyes.’

  ‘Nor could we,’ said the fox. She was quite shocked at her bold behaviour. But she had no regrets.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that! Better dash!’ The dog turned to go but the fox stopped him.

  ‘Can you come to my Tattoo Party?’ she asked.

  ‘Try stopping me!’ he replied, his tail going nineteen to the dozen. ‘See you on the Esplanade!’ And he scuttled off to do more important sniffing.

  ‘Let’s head home,’ the Castle Cat said. ‘I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’ The two friends ran through the Abbey and under the gates onto the Abbey Strand.

  ‘I am sorry we didn’t get any of the leftover cakes and sandwiches,’ said the fox as they trotted towards the Castle, ‘but it was lovely to meet the Queen. I will remember her smile for ever.’

  12

  A Party to Remember

  The fox’s friends each come to call

  This year’s Tattoo will thrill them all

  It wasn’t long before the first of the Tattoo performers arrived at the Esplanade to rehearse. They marched and played until a man in a white hat told them it was time for the next group to take their place. Each time they practised, their performances improved. ‘I think this year’s Tattoo might be even better than last year’s,’ said the dog fox, watching from beneath the stands.

  ‘It’s dress rehearsal night tomorrow,’ said the Castle Cat. ‘Can’t wait. I’m off for an early night so that I’ll be ready to enjoy it tomorrow.’

  That night there was a lighting rehearsal. The people who operated the spotlights and the coloured lights had a very complicated job. They prided themselves on getting it right, night after night. But things were not going smoothly. It was wet and windy, and everybody was rather anxious.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the Producer, huddled under his umbrella. ‘Let’s give it another go.’

  The engineers ran up and down the gantries replacing bulbs and shifting the huge lights, determined to make everything perfect. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, they were happy with the results.

  ‘Bravo,’ said the Producer. ‘Well done, everybody!’ Then he caught sight of the white tip of a fox’s tail disappearing under the stands. ‘She’s back,’ he said to himself. ‘Our Tattoo Fox has returned.’ And he smiled as he headed down Castlehill with the rest of the team.

  But just by the Camera Obscura a huge gust of wind took them all by surprise. It whisked the Producer’s folder into the air and off into the night. He could only watch helplessly as his notes flew out over the Esplanade into the driving rain. Everybody tried to grab them, but it was no use.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the Producer’s colleague. ‘We’ll print another Running Order off tomorrow.’

  The Producer thanked her and said, ‘Let’s go home now, we’ve got a big day ahead.’ He tried to sound cheerful, but his heart was heavy. His Running Order had been covered in his pencil notes. He would never remember them all. He tried not to think about it as he drove home that night.

  In the morning, the kits reported that the Esplanade was a mess. ‘There is litter

  everywhere,’ they said, outraged.

  ‘That’s strange,’ said their mother. She went to take a look. The bits of paper were a bit damp and she couldn’t read what was written on them, of course, but they didn’t look like litter. These weren’t chocolate wrappers or sandwich boxes or discarded receipts. She began to gather them up, one by one. The kits came and joined her, and they did their bit. The dog fox came too, once he’d caught breakfast. By the time the foxes had finished, they had quite a pile of paper. But what should they do with it now?

  ‘Run and get the Castle Cat, he’ll know what to do.’

  The cat looked long and hard at the pile of paper. Finally he said, ‘It says ‘Producer’s Tattoo Running Order’. I can’t read it all,’ he admitted, ‘but it must be important.’

  There was a snorting and a sniffing and the sniffer dog came careering towards them. ‘Can’t stop!’ he said. ‘Terribly busy!’ He gave the pile of papers a passing sniff. ‘These belong to the Producer,’ he said, screeching to a halt. ‘What on earth are you doing with them?’

  The fox told him the whole story.

  ‘Well, a gold star to the lot of you,’ said the sniffer dog. ‘This is vital stuff. Don’t go away!’ He hurried off.

  The sniffer dog’s handler was in a meeting. ‘I’m afraid my notes were blown away last night,’ the Producer was explaining, ‘and I’m sure you all know exactly what you’re doing, but I am rather worried.’ He looked pale. He hadn’t slept well.

  ‘The dogs have security covered,’ said the handler. ‘So you can…’ He stopped. His dog was not out in the stands where he was supposed to be, sniffing out trouble. He was here in the meeting, snuffling at his handler’s hand. ‘What are you doing here?’ he muttered. But the dog wouldn’t leave him alone. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ the handler said and jogged out of the meeting after the dog. At the far end of the Esplanade the sniffer dog stopped, and the handler saw what looked like four foxes disappearing behind a stairway. A large grey cat was standing next to a pile of paper, holding it down with one large paw.

  The cat removed his paw so that the handler could pick up the papers. ‘Incredible! I do believe you’ve saved the day,’ said the handler, scratching the dog’s ears. ‘And you,’ he said to the cat. ‘And you!’ he called to where he thought the four foxes were hiding.

  The Producer was overjoyed when the handler dashed back into the meeting waving the lost notes. They were rather wrinkly and still a little damp, but once he’d put them in the right order he felt much better. The Dress Rehearsal went like a dream and, as the Producer told his wife when he got home that night, he was sure that the Tattoo Fox had something to do with it.

  The opening night of the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo was a triumph. People from all over the world roared and cheered, though some wept during the lone piper’s lament, as they always did. There was something for everybody
and they all went home humming and dancing, overjoyed by the whole experience. For three weeks the performances continued, with every seat taken. For three weeks the Tattoo Fox watched every performance, often joined by her family. The Tattoo was every bit as thrilling as the previous year.

  On the final night she waited for her guests to arrive.

  First came the Dundas Castle Fox, trotting up the rock from Princes Street Gardens. He and the dog fox discovered they had a lot in common.

  Then came Myrtle. She was wearing a smart new tartan collar.

  The crows arrived looking particularly shiny. ‘What a thrill!’ they squawked as they landed by the foxes’ den. And they kept squawking ‘What a thrill!’ for the rest of the evening.

  The hare was a little shy and hid behind a tree until the Tattoo Fox spotted him. ‘Come away in,’ she said. ‘I’ve told everybody about you!’ It wasn’t long before the hare and the Castle Cat were enthusiastically exchanging fascinating facts.

  The red squirrel arrived a little late – she’d been distracted by some fat balls in a garden in Inverleith. But she was soon the life and soul of the party. And she’d brought some friends. The Castle Cat was doubtful about them at first, concerned that they might throw things at the performers. But he needn’t have worried. They behaved perfectly.

  The sniffer dog was the last to join them. ‘Done some serious sniffing tonight,’ he explained. ‘But I’m off duty for the rest of the show.’

  The Tattoo Fox welcomed them all and introduced them to her family and to each other. ‘You are my new friends,’ she said proudly. ‘Welcome to our Tattoo Party!’

  The sniffer dog led them all to a secret hideout with the best views over the Esplanade towards the Castle. They were all enthralled by the whole spectacle of the Tattoo with its sparkling lights and colourful costumes, its glorious music and dazzling fireworks. The Tattoo Fox thought of Sir Nils Olav and the other penguins enjoying the bright colours and startling shapes in the sky. All her new friends were having a wonderful time.