Me: Why are you two looking at me like that?
Nell: Did you order the wrong marmalade?
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about?
Nell: It was you, wasn’t it?
Nell: If you admit it now it will be better for you in the long run.
Me: I don’t even eat marmalade, Nell. I’m allergic to oranges.
Me: What do you mean?
Nell: It’s lime marmalade.
Nell: Nobody likes it. You know that.
Me: I don’t, actually.
Nell: So, why order 12 jars?
Me: It wasn’t me.
Nell: Poppy is not amused.
Me: I bet she isn’t.
Nell: You’re going to have to eat on your own. It’s lime marmalade until Christmas for you my friend.
Me: I don’t even like it.
Nell: You should have thought of that before you ordered it.
Me: This isn’t fair, Nell. Anyone could have ordered it.
Nell: Why would we? We all like oranges.
Me: Was the marmalade addressed to me?
Nell: You’re far too clever for that.
Me: Am I?
Nell: Barks and Spencer sent it to me.
Me: They don’t usually deliver here.
Nell: Exceptions can be made.
Me: Maybe we can send it back.
Nell: Do you have the receipt?
Me: Of course not. I didn’t order it.
Nell: Who did then? Is anyone else allergic to oranges?
Me: They could just like limes.
Nell: I suppose David might eat it if it’s spread on toast with lots of butter.
Me: Have you heard from him yet?
Nell: A postcard arrived from Dartmoor this morning saying they were having a lovely time and will be home soon.
Me: A postcard? Isn’t that a bit odd?
Nell: Says the person who sent me 12 jars of lime marmalade.
Me: It wasn’t me, Nell. Sorry.