The Queen's Corgi

Tara held her gaze evenly. ‘I hardly know what to say.’

‘It surprises most people. It came as a big surprise to me when I discovered it. The main thing is to use this in a helpful way. Once we become aware of buried issues, we can deal with them at source.’

‘You’re saying we can sabotage our own relationships without realising it?’

‘The subconscious mind,’ Justine said tactfully, ‘is far more powerful than the conscious one. You know the tip of the iceberg image? Most of our behaviour is automatic, operating without the need for conscious thought. When an idea becomes lodged deep down, like the idea that we are unloved or unlovable, then even if we really want a relationship to work, we will follow the established script. This makes us act out in ways that fulfil that programming, perhaps by choosing incompatible partners or behaving destructively when things are going well.’

‘My goodness!’

‘The important thing is to apply a remedy. To replace the negative programming with positive expectations.’

Tara glanced towards the door of the office, which was ajar.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Justine.

‘No, no.’

‘This work takes us straight to the heart of things.’

Tara was shaking her head. ‘I would never have even guessed, all these years later . . .’

Justine nodded. ‘Perhaps it helps you make sense of certain things?’

Tara held her gaze.

‘Usually it’s what we say or do, when we’re not being mindful. When we’re distracted or stressed out . . . instead of behaving as we’d consciously like to . . . our subconscious programming shows through.’

‘And other people get mixed messages?’

‘Exactly,’ said Justine with a nod. ‘And when our words conflict with our behaviour, it’s what we are doing that other people pay attention to, not what we are saying.’

This conversation reminded me of the very similar one I’d overheard between the Queen and the positive dog trainer. Both dogs and humans, it seemed, shared the same ability to sense when things weren’t quite right. Both could detect when what someone was saying was merely an act.

Justine shrugged. ‘We’re all works in progress. It takes courage to be open about our flaws, but that’s what makes us authentic. Winston Churchill’s black dog, for instance.’

Over by the fireside, one and a half ears pricked up momentarily. Black dog was not a phrase I’d heard before and it confused me.

There was a long pause as Tara regarded Justine carefully. ‘I only wish I’d known half of what you do when I was your age.’ She smiled.

‘Thank you!’ Justine glanced down modestly.

‘You’ve given me a lot to think about. And I think your services could be invaluable to many who come into contact with the Trust.’

That night was one of the rare occasions when Her Majesty enjoyed dinner, just for the family, at Buckingham Palace. Winston, Margaret and I were in attendance, lying on the carpet a short distance away from the table, ever watchful of our younger family members who might, in a soft-hearted moment, surreptitiously slip us a morsel from the table.

‘What was that about Winston Churchill having a black dog?’ I quizzed Winston, flopping beside him and fixing Kate with a look of winsome adoration.

‘Not an actual dog,’ said Winston. ‘Figure of speech, dear boy. It means he suffered from depression.’

‘Do black dogs get very depressed?’

‘Shouldn’t think so.’

I mulled it over. Up until that point I hadn’t known that humans might associate the word ‘dog’ with a feeling of unhappiness.

‘I suppose we do make humans unhappy sometimes,’ I remarked plaintively.

Winston looked over at me, cocking his head. ‘You’re not still dwelling on the A of C?’