Nell: That was the police. You are not going to believe this.
Me: I just might.
Nell: Gladys was spotted yesterday evening at a Mexican restaurant in Kingsbridge.
Me: That’s wonderful news.
Nell: Drinking tequila and wearing an oversized sombrero.
Me: Go Gladys.
Nell: When the police got to the restaurant they were told she had left with an alpaca in a sky blue waistcoat, carrying a handbag.
Me: At least we know she is ok.
Nell: Both appeared to be ‘slightly the worse for wear’. I quote. And were singing ‘Guantanamera’.
Me: Do we know what they had for dinner?
Nell: No, we don’t. That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter if she had fajitas, or tacos.
Me: Personally, I prefer fajitas every time. Tacos are too crunchy.
Nell: You can get soft tacos. Good grief. Now I’m discussing Mexican food with you.
Me: Tasty tortillas with some fresh guacamole and spicy salsa.
Nell: Enough. The question is, why hasn’t Gladys been in touch?
Me: Too busy having fun?
Nell: But she knows we will worry.
Me: There might be a reasonable explanation for all this.
Nell: I’m not holding my breath. What’s David waving at us now?
Me: His iBone. It’s a text in Spanish. ‘Si quieres ver a Gladys otra vez, todos deben usar un sombrero.’ Can anyone translate?
Nell: ‘If you want to see Gladys again, you must all wear a sombrero.’ Your accent is appalling, by the way.
Me: I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.
Nell: I was once engaged to an Andalusian hound. Don’t ask. It’s best left in the past.
Me: Who sent the text?
Nell: It’s from someone called Alejandro.
Me: Is that your Andalusian hound?
Nell: Certainly not. It must be the alpaca. It sounds South American.
Me: Of course. Sorry.
