A brave boy

Nell: This is all most stressful. Thank goodness for WoofsApp. David just sent me this photo.

Me: Nice beret. Where is he?

Nell: David, Gladys and The Cat are in France having Moules Frites on the seafront with Savoiardi and the NOIR bosses.

Me: But Dave doesn’t like mussels.

Nell: He’s just having chips, but that’s not the point. They are a great success. Apparently Gladys is even performing a contemporary dance at the big meeting later.

Me: How did that happen?

Nell: Savoiardi bumped into them on the boat and David told him they fancied a holiday in France and could he show them around.

Me: And he believed him?

Nell: Yes. He thinks David is a bit of a harmless nincompoop.

Me: How rude.

Nell: But useful. They don’t suspect him at all.

Me: Suspect him of what?

Nell: David has become an honorary spy. He is going to wear a wire in his beret. Sally is very proud of her darling Davey.

Me: Is Sally in France then?

Nell: Yes. She went over there immediately.

Me: It’s ever so risky. Dave isn’t trained.

Nell: No, but he is a brave boy. He is having the wire fitted during Gladys’s dance. Sally will be waiting outside.

Me: Will there be enough time?

Nell: Fortunately Gladys packed her feather boa and heels and The Cat plays the violin so they can keep going for a while.

Me: How is The Cat coping with all those birds?

Nell: It’s being nice.

Me: I hate it when it’s nice.

Nell: Yes. That awful false grin and those eyes.

Me: Exactly. You know it’s secretly flexing its claws.

Nell: I am very glad David isn’t doing this alone.

Me: I wish I was there to help.

Nell: I can’t think of anything worse. You are not cut out to be a spy. Unlike David it seems.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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