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David Needs Your Help

Me: Why are you three sitting by my bed? It’s still early and I’m writing.

Nell: David needs your help.

Me: With what?

Nell: His defence.

Me: Is he going to court?

Nell: We don’t know, but after yesterday’s performance he might be.

Me: Tell me what happened.

Nell: Well, Russell was having tea with Poppy and I. He seemed a little tense, which was probably down to Poppy’s sword.

Me: Was she waving it?

Nell: No. She used it to pass him a scone.

Me: Why?

Nell: She had to maintain social distancing.

Me: Yes. Of course.

Nell: She’d polished it, however, so it kept glinting and she was smiling in a threatening way.

Me: I hate it when she does that.

Nell: Yes. I tried distracting him with a little gentle conversation about the weather, but he wasn’t interested.

Me: Silly animal. Conversations with you are always delightful.

Nell: You are too kind. Fortunately David bounded in with his usual exuberance. He was explaining that the advice about pushing Russell off the wall was just a joke when The Cat arrived.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: It was wearing a feathered hat and a sequinned cloak.

Me: That’s always worrying.

Nell: Quite. Anyway, it sauntered over to Russell and said, ‘Are you the terrier who criticised the Afghan’s luscious locks?’

Me: No beating around the bush there then.

Nell: What bush? We were in the living room.

Me: Never mind.

Nell: Russell said, ‘It pushed me off the wall.’

Me: Did The Cat reply?

Nell: Yes. It said, ‘Good. Mind your manners in future, or it will happen again.’

Me: Gosh.

Nell: Then it pushed the scone off his plate and left. Russell was furious.

Me: Did it fall jam down?

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: No. Sorry.

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