Nell: Mission accomplished. Not a Beefy in sight.
Me: You are so impressive. You could be the new James Bond, or Ethan Hunt.
Nell: I have no wish to be either of them, although the idea of N in one of the Bond films does appeal.
Me: What did Mutley say?
Nell: He and the Bulldog Boys have decided the Beefies got cold feet. They are positively crowing, if one may use such a word.
Me: Why didn’t you tell them?
Nell: I don’t think there is any need. We girls had everything under control.
Me: Forget Charlie, we are Nell’s Angels.
Nell: Just stop. Have you seen David’s waistcoat?
Me: It’s very sparkly.
Nell: It’s completely covered in sequins. He and The Cat had a marvellous time. He thinks he scared the Beefies away, of course.
Me: How? With his waistcoat?
Nell: Probably. He was boasting away to Harriet and she just smiled and gave him an egg sandwich. He loves them.
Me: I wonder what’s next.
Nell: Nothing, I hope. It’s Wimbledon and I need to choose my outfit.
Me: Are you going?
Nell: Of course I am. Didn’t you hear me talking to Meghan earlier?
Me: I didn’t realise it was her.
Nell: Yes, she was checking I was available. Kate might join us.
Me: Front row seats then?
Nell: Don’t be silly. Royal box.
Me: Of course, sorry.
