Me: Something fishy is going on.
Nell: It’s just David. He was hit by a mackerel this morning and he can’t get the smell out of his fur.
Me: Wretched Beefies. I’m not talking about real fish.
Nell: Why mention them then?
Me: It’s just a saying. Harriet’s hiding on the stairs.
Nell: She likes sitting there.
Me: I think she’s spying on someone.
Nell: Nonsense.
Me: When I asked her what she was doing she squeezed her eyes tight shut.
Nell: She’s probably just tired.
Me: Why?
Nell; We’ve been practising curtsying with Gladys and the llamas since first thing this morning.
Me: Do you think you’re going to have to curtsy? It’s a coronation not an investiture.
Nell: We need to be prepared for all eventualities.
Me: I don’t think the King’s going to have time to give out any awards, much as I think you deserve one.
Nell: I’m not talking about awards. If the King approaches us at any time we need to be ready.
Me: Fair enough. I still think Harriet is spying.
Nell: Anyway, before you hear this from anyone else I might as well tell you that Lionel has kindly agreed to take Harriet and I up to London tomorrow in his car.
Me: What do you mean tomorrow? The coronation is on Saturday.
Nell: We’re staying with friends in Chelsea.
Me: Who?
Nell: The Barkchesters. You don’t know them.
Me: Is that lion staying with them too?
Nell: Of course not. Lionel is staying at his club.
Me: You do realise Mr Giggles will be driving, don’t you?
Nell: Yes. I must admit I’m not looking forward to hours of listening to that dreadful laugh.
Me: Only someone decidedly fishy would have a hyena as his chauffeur.
Nell: Don’t start.
Me: Sorry.
