Nell: I’m not sure Harriet is completely focused.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: She’s supposed to be watching the Bus Stop but she keeps looking at her paws, or family photos.

Me: I do that. The digital photo frame is fascinating.

Nell: It’s not a problem at the moment because Beauregard is out there waiting for a bus.

Me: Beauregard the tiger?

Nell: Do you know any other Beauregards?

Me: Waiting for a bus?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Are they going to let a tiger get on a bus? I know they allow dogs but I’m not sure they allow tigers.

Nell: He’s not really waiting. He’s pretending to wait.

Me: What’s the difference?

Nell: When it arrives he’ll shrug his shoulders as if to say it’s the wrong bus.

Me: But there’s only one bus.

Nell: Stop nitpicking.

Me: And why is he pretending to wait for a bus? Rupert isn’t going to be on it.

Nell: He wants to eavesdrop on village talk in case someone gives something away about Rupert’s whereabouts.

Me: They aren’t going to do that with a tiger listening.

Nell: You don’t know that. He’s going to act nonchalant.

Me: Are you sure he doesn’t just want to eat the spaghetti bolognese?

Nell: There isn’t any spaghetti bolognese.

Me: Yes, there is. I saw Stanley drop it off in a Tupperware container first thing this morning.

Nell: Well, it isn’t there now.

Me: Someone must have collected it, or Beauregard’s eaten it.

Nell: But he’s not a member of the Spaghetti Bolognese Club.

Me: Tigers don’t care about things like membership and clubs. If there’s something tasty they’ll eat it.

Nell: Did it have a label?

Me: I think so.

Nell: Why are you only telling me this now?

Me: You didn’t ask. Sorry.

Me: Did Dave find any sign of Rupert in the barns?

Nell: No, but he and Harriet checked the stream and feel sure Rupert walked through there.

Me: I thought you couldn’t track anyone in water?

Nell: I didn’t say they could actually smell Rupert. It was more of a feeling. A sense of him.

Me: The trouble is he will definitely have walked through there before so it doesn’t really tell us anything.

Nell: No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.

Me: I’m sure he will be in contact soon, Nell.

Nell: I hope so. I’m feeling rather lost without him.

Me: I know exactly what you mean.

Nell: Henry and Horst are sending out insect trackers so maybe they will discover something.

Me: I think a few of them should hide in that lion’s mane.

Nell: Lionel King doesn’t know anything.

Me: I bet he does. I’d put a few in Stanley Smoochy’s feathers and on Lady Anwen’s hat. They could hide in her veil.

Nell: I’ll pass on your suggestions at our next meeting.

Me: Good. I’m not sure they can get to Sponge Finger or Stephen Seagull but it would be worth a try.

Nell: We don’t know the Italian rook is Sponge Finger. I mean Savoiardi. They all look the same to me.

Me: He’s Sponge Finger. It’s in the eyes.

Nell: Anyway, we’re not giving up until Rupert is safely home.

Me: What’s happening to all the knitwear without him? Aren’t we close to the launch of his Spring Collection?

Nell: It’s on hold. The Cat’s stepped in to coordinate production and distribution of the Winter collection but it doesn’t want to start any new lines without him.

Me: Quite right. We might end up with sequinned cardigans.

Nell: That’s not the reason.

Me: No. Sorry.

Nell: The world’s gone mad.

Me: I’m not going to argue with that.

Nell: David’s sleeping in the smallest bed and the Stuffed Tiger is facing the wrong way.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: It’s turned itself around. Sly animal.

Me: It can’t have done, Nell. It’s stuffed.

Nell: I don’t know what good staring at the wall is going to do.

Me: It’s a cat thing. They can do it for hours.

Nell: The Cat doesn’t do it.

Me: The Cat’s different.

Nell: You’re telling me. Did you put up the posters of Rupert?

Me: Yes, but don’t you think we’d know if he was still in the village?

Nell: Not if he’s been kidnapped and trapped in a small barn.

Me: A small barn? That’s rather specific.

Nell: We have a lot of them in this village.

Me: Is this a new theory?

Nell: Sometimes things are hiding in plain sight.

Me: True. Maybe we need to search the barns?

Nell: Henry and Horst are already on the case.

Me: But they’re woodlice, Nell. It’s going to take them an awfully long time to get to a barn let alone search it.

Nell: David will take them on his hat when he wakes up.

Me: Are you sure Dave’s the right animal for the job? Don’t you think a giant Labrador in a cowboy hat might get noticed?

Nell: He won’t be wearing a cowboy hat.

Me: Good.

Nell: He’ll be wearing a flat cap.

Me: Oh, I see.

Nell: And Wellington boots.

Me: He’ll need them with all this rain. The lanes are so muddy.

Nell: Exactly.

Nell: On another note, who was playing the drums at 8am this morning?

Me: I don’t know.

Nell: Well, find out. Mondays are difficult enough already.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: I just might.

Nell: Rupert is at the Winter Olympics. He was taking part in the skiing in the women’s cross-country team sprint for some reason.

Me: No, he wasn’t, Nell.

Nell: Several people contacted me. Some with photos of him crossing the finishing line.

Me: That was a 2 year old Czechoslovakian Wolfdog called Nazghul.

Nell: How do you know?

Me: Because his photo is everywhere.

Nell: It looked a lot like him.

Me: Only if you wanted it to, Nell.

Nell: I was surprised. Rupert doesn’t ski.

Me: No, but he paddleboards.

Nell: Yes, do you remember when we first saw him paddleboarding at Hope Cove?

Me: Yes, he waved to us.

Nell: He did. It was a long time ago now.

Me: Yes.

Nell: I miss him.

Me: Of course you do.

Nell: I really liked the thought of him being at the Winter Olympics in Italy.

Me: Funny how Italy keeps cropping up.

Nell: Sunday Songs is all about the Winter Olympics so make sure you wear your ski suit.

Me: I don’t have one.

Nell: Never mind. The Welsh Corgi Choir do. Lionel says Stanley is going to bring a bowl of spaghetti bolognese to cheer us up.

Me: Have you been talking to that lion again?

Nell: I’ve been talking to everyone.

Me: I don’t think anyone should be eating spaghetti bolognese at Sunday Songs. It’s rude.

Nell: Tell David that.

Me: Sundays are for roasts not spaghetti.

Nell: There’s room for both, although I’ve lost my appetite now you’ve crushed my dreams.

Me: What dreams?

Nell: That Rupert won a medal at the Olympic Games and is bringing it home to me.

Me: It’s a lovely dream but that’s all it is, Nell. I’m sorry.

Me: Have you heard anything from Rupert?

Nell: Nobody has heard anything for days.

Me: It’s not like him at all.

Nell: The llamas have been delivering his newspapers. Badly.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: They seem to think they can just throw them at people.

Me: They probably think they’re in the United States.

Nell: Just because they line dance and wear the occasional cowboy hat doesn’t mean they’ve turned North American.

Me: Never mind.

Nell: Anyway, we can’t waste time chatting. I need you to be up and doing.

Me: But it’s Saturday.

Nell: Rupert is missing and we need to launch a search party.

Me: I think you might be overreacting, Nell.

Nell: I’ve organised Missing posters and I need them distributed countrywide.

Me: Did you say countrywide? Or countywide?

Nell: Countrywide. He may not be in Devon.

Me: Goodness me.

Nell: We’ll start with the UK but we might need to expand our search.

Me: Are you expecting me to drive around the UK with posters?

Nell: Don’t be ridiculous. I want you to put them up in the village.

Me: That’s a relief.

Nell: I’ve reported Rupert as Missing to PC Panda so the police are on the case.

Me: Good to know.

Nell: Owl Pacino and Count Bingo Flamingo are covering the air and Princess. Sir Roger Blubbery and the Navy Seals are covering the sea.

Me: Gosh. You’ve been busy.

Nell: Henry and Horst are coordinating everything with the help of the VSA.

Me: VSA?

Nell: Very Small Animals. Do keep up.

Me: Can I see the poster?

Nell: Here it is.

Me: It’s missing some important information.

Nell: What?

Me: It just says ‘Contact Nell Martin’. What if people don’t know who you are?

Nell: Everyone knows who I am.

Me: Right. Sorry.

Me: Look at this sweet photo of Chris with baby Harriet. Isn’t it adorable?

Nell: Yes.

Me: How tiny was she?

Nell: Very.

Me: You’re being a bit quiet this morning. Is something wrong?

Nell: I still haven’t heard from Rupert.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: He hasn’t replied to any of my texts and he’s ignored the countless voicemails I left him.

Me: Maybe his iBone is broken, or not charged?

Nell: Rupert isn’t the kind of wolf to let that kind of thing happen.

Me: No, I agree.

Nell: He always makes sure to text ‘Good night, sleep well’.

Me: It is strange. Has anyone else seen him?

Nell: No. The newspapers haven’t been delivered either.

Me: Perhaps he’s decided to go away for a while.

Nell: Without telling me?

Me: It might have been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Nell: It’s not like him at all.

Me: No, it isn’t.

Nell: To be honest, I’m getting really worried about him.

Me: I’m sure he’s fine, Nell.

Nell: This is so out of character.

Me: If we don’t hear from him soon we could always ask Walter to have a fly around.

Nell: Walter Pigeon?

Me: Yes. I’m sure he could rustle up a search party.

Nell: I’d rather ask Owl Pacino.

Me: I’m not sure the Royal Owl Force can get involved in something like this.

Nell: They will if I ask them.

Me: Let’s give it another day, Nell. I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon. He wouldn’t want you to be worried.

Nell: Which is exactly why I am. Running away isn’t something Rupert would do.

Me: I wouldn’t call it running away. He might just be taking some time for himself.

Nell: There’s something very wrong about all this.

Me: I’m beginning to agree with you. Sorry.

Me: Is Marvin sulking?

Nell: He says there’s too much snow in Toronto.

Me: It looks beautiful.

Nell: It’s very cold under paw.

Me: He needs to wrap up in a soft warm blanket.

Nell: Rupert sent him one for Christmas.

Me: Have you heard from Rupert?

Nell: No, I haven’t.

Me: I’m not surprised.

Nell: Why?

Me: You haven’t been showing much interest in him recently.

Nell: Rupert knows there can never be anyone else for me.

Me: Does he?

Nell: Of course he does.

Me: I think you might need to remind him.

Nell: How?

Me: I don’t know but you’d better hurry.

Nell: What do you mean?

Me: A good-looking, kind and lovely wolf like Rupert is not going to stay single for long.

Nell: He’s not single. He’s my Rupert.

Me: Is he?

Nell: Yes, and I’m his Nelly.

Me: Well, make sure you tell him that.

Nell: He isn’t answering my texts.

Me: Call him.

Nell: What if he’s busy?

Me: He’s never usually too busy for you.

Nell: You’re right. I’ll do it now.

Me: Go on.

Nell: It’s going to voicemail.

Me: Leave a message.

Nell: But I don’t want to appear too needy.

Me: Just do it.

Nell: What shall I say?

Me: I don’t know. ‘Call me. I miss you.’

Nell: Fine. Knowing Rupert he’ll call back immediately.

Me: Let’s hope so.

Nell: He hasn’t called back.

Me: It’s only been a few minutes. He might not have listened to it yet.

Nell: Yes, you’re right. It’s just so unlike him not to keep in touch.

Me: I’m afraid you might have pushed him too far this time.

Nell: Rupert is my rock.

Me: I know he is.

Nell: I can’t manage without him. He’s always there.

Me: I know. Sorry.

Me: It’s hard to believe Harriet is an international spy, isn’t it? Look at her sweet innocent face.

Nell: International?

Me: She’s been to France.

Nell: Have you ever been to Italy?

Me: Yes. Lots of times. I love it there. Why?

Nell: Someone mentioned Sicily. Have you ever been there?

Me: No. Did that someone have a mane, by any chance?

Nell: I haven’t talked to any horses recently.

Me: A lion’s mane.

Nell: I haven’t seen Mrs King, or Roary either.

Me: I’m talking about Lionel King.

Nell: It wasn’t Lionel.

Me: But you went for a drink with him.

Nell: I did.

Me: Who was it then? Stanley?

Nell: Yes. Stanley was telling me how Italian food varies depending on the region.

Me: I see.

Nell: He’s thinking of making us some Arancini.

Me: Rice balls? Kev loves those.

Nell: Good.

Me: Where did he tell you all this?

Nell: At the pub. He was there with Lionel.

Me: And Sponge Finger?

Nell: The rook isn’t Savoiardi. He’s just a friend.

Me: But he was there?

Nell: Yes, he’s thinking of starting an Italian conversation class.

Me: Is he now?

Nell: Yes. There’s a French conversation class at the pub twice a week already.

Me: Is there now?

Nell: Stop saying ‘now’ like that with your head on one side.

Me: Does Knitwear Wolf know?

Nell: Know what?

Me: That you’re learning Italian from the Mafia?

Nell: They’re not the Mafia. They’re just friends.

Me: Does he know?

Nell: Rupert knows I joined them for a drink.

Me: Was he happy about it?

Nell: I wouldn’t say he was happy exactly.

Me: I bet.

Nell: He’s fine.

Me: Where is he then? He’s usually here by now.

Nell: He’s probably just delayed.

Me: Or not coming. Sorry.

Nell: You need to talk to David.

Me: Why? Is something wrong?

Nell: He won’t get out of bed.

Me: Not even for food?

Nell: Don’t be silly. He’s a Labrador. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for food.

Me: So he’s had breakfast?

Nell: Yes, but only his own.

Me: No Eating by Mistake?

Nell: No. He just ate his boiled eggs and went back to bed.

Me: No soldiers?

Nell: Of course there were soldiers. You can’t have a dippy egg without soldiers.

Me: Well, that’s a relief.

Nell: But he only had two rounds of bread lightly buttered.

Me: Lightly?

Nell: Quite. It worried me, too.

Me: Did he drink his tea?

Nell: Yes, but without his usual gusto. You know how he loves to slurp.

Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: No slurping today. Just gentle sips.

Me: I didn’t even know Dave could sip.

Nell: Nobody did. There’s definitely something wrong.

Me: He’s probably missing Sally. They had such a lovely weekend together.

Nell: Long distance romances are very hard.

Me: You wouldn’t know. All your suitors are dancing around you.

Nell: All my suitors?

Me: Knitwear Wolf, that wretched lion and probably Stanley.

Nell: Stanley isn’t a suitor.

Me: I notice you didn’t disagree with me about Lionel King.

Nell: One can’t help having a crush.

Me: One jolly well can. You’re going to lose Knitwear Wolf if you carry on like this.

Nell: Rupert understands.

Me: Does he know you’re meeting Lionel at the pub?

Nell: Only for a small sherry.

Me: It doesn’t matter what you’re drinking. Does Rupert know?

Nell: My friend Dorothy tried a craft beer recently. She said it was dreadful.

Me: Stop avoiding the question.

Nell: I’m going to tell Rupert.

Me: You’d better, or I will. Sorry.

Nell: There are too many Labradors in this house.

Me: I know you’re talking about Nigel. He’s going home today.

Nell: There’s such a thing as outstaying your welcome.

Me: Don’t be mean, Nell. You know Nigel’s suffering from unrequited love for Sally.

Nell: Well, she’s gone back to London now so he and David can mope around together.

Me: Why are you all in the living room, by the way?

Nell: We’re monitoring Mike.

Me: Mike the Polar Bear?

Nell: Do you know any other Mikes?

Me: I do, actually.

Nell: I meant around here?

Me: Why are you monitoring him?

Nell: To see if he’s listening, of course. Do keep up.

Me: How can you see if someone is listening?

Nell: I shall ignore that. We think he’s in league with the Stuffed Tiger.

Me: That’s nonsense.

Nell: You’ve got a blind spot when it comes to that tiger. It gets away with anything. Secretive, nosey animal.

Me: It’s stuffed.

Nell: Nigel hates it.

Me: Kev told me a funny thing. He and Nigel were walking past the pub and Nigel went crazy when he saw the two lions outside.

Nell: Was one of them Lionel King?

Me: No. The stone lions. Why did you think it was Lionel? Does he have a lion friend?

Nell: I don’t know who Lionel’s friends are but there are probably a few lions in the mix and they might go to the pub now and again.

Me: You know something.

Nell: I do not.

Me: Has Lionel King been in touch with you again?

Nell: It’s none of your business.

Me: Has he invited you to the pub?

Nell: He might have done.

Me: You’re the one with the blind spot, Nell.

Nell: I am not.

Me: Lionel is trouble. Sorry.