Me: Is something going on?
Nell: No. Why?
Me: You’re all huddled together on my bed and three of you are looking worried.
Nell: It’s cold. The bed is comfortable and we can see the field through the window.
Me: What’s in the field?
Nell: Sunday Songs.
Me: It doesn’t explain why you’re sulking and the others are concerned.
Nell: I’m not sulking. I’m indifferent.
Me: You usually enjoy the singing.
Nell: It’s not about the singing.
Me: You can’t just be generally indifferent, Nell. There has to be something you don’t care about.
Nell: If you must know, Princess has gone sailing with Lionel.
Me: On his yacht?
Nell: Yes. I believe Princess might be swimming alongside. Seals tend to do that. But there was definitely talk of a fish lunch.
Me: Well, you don’t even particularly like a fish lunch so there’s no need to be jealous.
Nell: I’m not jealous. I couldn’t care less.
Me: I’m sure Poppy’s Sunday roast will be much tastier than freshly caught mackerel with new potatoes and a side salad all served on a beautiful boat.
Nell: You’re not helping.
Me: No. It does sound rather nice. Do you think Lionel has transferred his affections?
Nell: I have no idea.
Me: Only I can sort of see where he’s coming from. He seems to have a type.
Nell: I beg your pardon.
Me: I’ve often said there’s something almost seal like about you with your sweet face and beautiful eyes. Especially when you have wet fur.
Nell: I am nothing like a seal. I am a lady Labrador.
Me: Either way Princess is the one I feel sorry for. She is just a pawn in Lionel’s game.
Nell: Why bring prawns into this? You’re fish mad this morning.
Me: Never mind. Sorry.
