Me: I don’t think Dave remembers ever having seen snow. He’s been watching it for ages. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Don’t be so fanciful. He’s been watching out for evil sous chefs.

Me: I beg your pardon?

Nell: Assistant chefs. He’s been keeping an eye out for any baddies.

Me: Why on earth would he do that?

Nell: Stephen Seagull is cooking lunch and has requested assistance with his salmon en croute.

Me: He’s got Malcolm and Manuel.

Nell: We’re expecting the Beefies to turn up with the salmon and some of them might be good at pastry.

Me: We can’t have Beefies in the kitchen, Nell. Poppy would never condone it.

Nell: I’m beginning to regret listening to Miss Penny Lane. Stephen’s an excellent cook but there’s always an element of danger when he’s around.

Me: I never thought I would say this, but, given the choice, I would prefer Lionel.

Nell: Exactly. Lionel was absolutely charming in the kitchen. Everyone said so. He even made vegan alternatives.

Me: Can’t we ask Stephen to leave?

Nell: Not until after lunch.

Me: No. Obviously.

Nell: Salmon en croute is one of my favourites and The Cat is joining us.

Me: After lunch then?

Nell: Not immediately after lunch because that would seem rude.

Me: Yes, it would.

Nell: You could tell him around 3ish.

Me: I could?

Nell: You suggested it.

Me: You agreed.

Nell: Someone has to do it.

Me: I wish Poppy were here.

Nell: We all do.

Me: She would have seen him off.

Nell: She would.

Me: Do you think Knitwear Wolf would ask him to leave?

Nell: I think it has to be The Cat. After Poppy, The Cat is best at quick goodbyes. Rupert is far too reasonable.

Me: You’re right. Sorry.

Me: Look at those two darling little sleepyheads.

Nell: David has never been little.

Me: It makes me want to cuddle up with them.

Nell: Please don’t. They had a large breakfast and need to sleep it off.

Me: Who knew Stephen Seagull wasn’t a one trick pony?

Nell: Why bring ponies into this?

Me: It’s just a saying.

Nell: He’s a Beefy.

Me: Never mind. His seafood linguine was delicious but his huevos rancheros this morning were absolutely amazing.

Nell: I prefer my Mexican eggs with a little less salsa.

Me: And homemade tortillas, too.

Nell: You’ve changed your tune.

Me: I’m beginning to wonder if there are any more baddies out there who can cook. Does anyone know if Lady Anwen is available ?

Nell: Isn’t she in prison?

Me: She’s a royal corgi. I think the bad ones just retire to the countryside.

Nell: You might be right.

Me: We’ll have to draw the line at Sven Gully. We don’t need hypnotising again.

Nell: We most certainly don’t, especially when The Great Mutliano isn’t here to save us.

Me: I remember when you started being nice to me. I knew something was wrong immediately.

Nell: I can be nice.

Me: Not like that. It was dreadful. You called me ‘dear’.

Nell: That’s not going to happen again any time soon.

Me: I know. Poppy started eating junk food.

Nell: Talking of Poppy, she’s not happy.

Me: Why?

Nell: She thinks Rupert has gone soft allowing lions and Beefies in the kitchen.

Me: Knitwear Wolf is just trying to be kind and give everyone a chance.

Nell: Yes.

Me: He’s such a wonderful wolf. It’s a lucky lady Labrador who wins his heart.

Nell: Why Labrador? Any lady would be lucky.

Me: Did I say Labrador? Silly me. Sorry.

Me: I’ll admit that yesterday’s lunch was extremely delicious and Lionel King has a flair for cooking, but have you seen who’s in the kitchen today?

Nell: Calm down, please.

Me: Stephen Seagull? The evil head of the wicked gang of seagulls called the Beefies?

Nell: I know who he is.

Me: Walking around in a chef’s hat?

Nell: Poppy insists on hats in the kitchen.

Me: Why would anyone want to eat his food?

Nell: You need to keep an open mind.

Me: And can he even cook?

Nell: Of course he can. Miss Penny Lane has been over to his for dinner several times.

Me: Over to his?

Nell: I’m quoting Penny. She asked me if we would give him a try.

Me: I’m worried about you. I understand the Lionel King thing, as you’ve always had a soft spot for him.

Nell: He’s an excellent cook. Admit it.

Me: He’s surprisingly good and Malcolm and Manuel said he was a pleasure to work with.

Nell: There you are.

Me: But Stephen Seagull? I mean look at the bird. Everything about him shouts mean.

Nell: You should taste his seafood linguine before you make any decisions.

Me: I’m not touching his linguine.

Nell: It’s your favourite.

Me: Goodness only knows where he found the seafood. In a bin, probably.

Nell: It’s freshly caught today.

Me: If you tell me Knitwear Wolf says we should give him a chance I won’t believe you.

Nell: It was Penny Lane and Susan. He’s her biological father, you know.

Me: I know.

Nell: Besides, you owe me.

Me: I do?

Nell: Yesterday was National Labrador Day and you forgot.

Me: Yes, I did.

Nell: Well, then. Time to give Stephen’s Seafood Linguine a try. You might actually like it.

Me: Okay. Sorry.

Me: Wasn’t it glorious down on the beach? What a difference the sun makes.

Nell: It was very cold.

Me: You should live in Canada. Chris sent me photos of the snow in Toronto. Marvin had to wear a warm coat.

Nell: How Harriet can go swimming is quite beyond me.

Me: You used to go swimming in your younger days.

Nell: Watching from the beach is fine.

Me: I’m so glad Herr Hoffmann is awake again.

Nell: I think the sunshine is helping.

Me: He’s still rather tired but hopefully he can take over from Babycakes Gillespie.

Nell: Babycakes needs to stick to bagels.

Me: That’s a bit harsh.

Nell: The roast wasn’t right. Poppy gave it 5 out of 10.

Me: Poppy didn’t try it.

Nell: She knew.

Me: You mean you told her.

Nell: No need.

Me: It tasted better than it looked.

Nell: We need to sit down with Herr Hoffmann and discuss the future.

Me: I think organising breakfast is enough for now.

Nell: Now, you’re not going to like this, but Lionel King wants to cook us all lunch.

Me: I beg your pardon?

Nell: He caught some fresh sea bass this morning and he wants to serve it with a sauce vierge and new potatoes.

Me: Absolutely not.

Nell: Rupert thinks it’s a good idea.

Me: He does?

Nell: Yes. He says we should give Lionel a chance and it might be the making of him.

Me: I thought Knitwear Wolf had more sense.

Nell: Rupert thinks Lionel needs a change of direction.

Me: Yes. To somewhere far far away.

Nell: Wait and see. You might be surprised.

Me: I doubt it.

Nell: Sea bass is your favourite fish.

Me: I know.

Nell: New Year. New Lionel.

Me: I don’t believe that. Sorry.

Me: I have a few questions for you this morning.

Nell: Sundays are a day of rest.

Me: Why wake me at 5:30am then?

Nell: I couldn’t sleep.

Me: I could and so could everyone else until you woke us.

Nell: C’est la vie.

Me: No, that’s not life, Nell.

Nell: Babycakes Gillespie needed access to the kitchen. He’s never cooked a roast dinner before.

Me: That was my other question.

Nell: I’m all ears.

Me: Why is Babycakes wearing a chef’s hat? We haven’t even started advertising for a chef yet.

Nell: Poppy said hats must be worn in the kitchen.

Me: But what’s he doing here?

Nell: I might have mentioned the need for a Sunday roast and he might have volunteered to ‘give it a go’.

Me: Is anyone helping him?

Nell: Of course. You are.

Me: Excuse me?

Nell: And Kev’s an excellent cook. Not to mention David on Yorkshire puddings and Malcolm and Manuel on the side dishes.

Me: So, you’ve volunteered everyone else?

Nell: Not everyone. Sundays are roast days. Especially in January when it’s cold and dark. You know I’m right.

Me: I do not.

Nell: There’s nothing like the taste of roast beef and the satisfying crunch of a roast potato. Or a Yorkshire pudding slathered with lashings of gravy.

Me: You’re beginning to sound like me.

Nell: And besides, Herr Hoffmann showed signs of waking earlier so all this volunteering might be unnecessary.

Me: What?

Nell: In the meantime Babycakes has brought us all some morning bagels.

Me: Unbelievable.

Nell: He’s even made extra coffee for the Welsh Corgi Choir. Sunday Songs can be chilly at this time of year.

Me: Are you telling me you woke me this early for nothing?

Nell: Breakfast together is not nothing.

Me: No. Sorry.

Me: You’re such a beautiful Labrador, Nell. No wonder Knitwear Wolf’s so smitten with you.

Nell: Smitten?

Me: Hopelessly in love. Infatuated.

Nell: Can we move out of Mills and Boon territory and back to the real world, please?

Me: Just saying.

Nell: Poppy thinks an advert for a chef in the Daily Growl is a good idea.

Me: Does she?

Nell: Yes. She wants to be on the Decision Making Panel, however.

Me: What Decision Making Panel?

Nell: All applicants will be interviewed by the DMP and if successful will move on to Stage Two.

Me: Stage Two?

Nell: Kitchen Trials.

Me: This isn’t Masterchef.

Nell: I know. Greg Walrus and John the Toad aren’t available, anyway. I asked them.

Me: How’s Poppy going to be on the Decision Making Panel?

Nell: I’ll have to be on it. Obviously.

Me: How will we know when it’s Poppy’s decision and not yours?

Nell: She will tell me and I will tell all of you. Stop being so obstructive.

Me: So, you’ll effectively have two votes?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Can I be on the Decision Making Panel?

Nell: I’ll have to ask Poppy.

Me: Why?

Nell: She’s Chief Judge. Do keep up.

Me: Herr Hoffmann should definitely be on the Panel.

Nell: He’s asleep.

Me: We’ll wake him up for the interviews.

Nell: Good luck with that.

Me: Dave should definitely be on there.

Nell: David’s far too emotional.

Me: He’s the Mayor of Kingsbridge and he has Poppy’s Recipe Book.

Nell: The Cat might be a better choice.

Me: It doesn’t even like food.

Nell: It’s a good judge of character and doesn’t throw itself at every passing delivery person.

Me: Dave’s just friendly. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: We need a chef not a cuddle.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Can I have a quick word with you, please?

Nell: It’ll have to be brief. I have a breakfast meeting at 8:30am.

Me: A breakfast meeting?

Nell: Yes. My friend Dorothy is joining me here, if you must know, for a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel.

Me: How very American of her.

Nell: It’s being delivered.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes. Babycakes Gillespie is trying out a new venture.

Me: I see. And you and Dorothy are the guinea pigs?

Nell: I beg your pardon? Dorothy is one of the Salcombe Setters and I am a pedigree Labrador.

Me: No. It’s just a saying. You and Dorothy are testing the waters.

Nell: Water? We’re expecting frothy cappuccinos and nothing less.

Me: But Babycakes Gillespie has been selling bagels and coffee from his cart for ages.

Nell: He’s branching out to a takeaway breakfast which can also be delivered to your place of work. He’s calling it Breakfast for the Busy.

Me: Breakfast on the hoof, so to speak.

Nell: Hoof? I’m not a llama, although they’re keen to try it. Apparently it’s just what they need after an early morning cartwheel.

Me: I’m not sure I’d call you busy. In fact you’ve been decidedly lazy recently.

Nell: Lazy? I’m rushed off my paws.

Me: You might be doing a lot of organising, Nell, but everyone has to come to you.

Nell: What’s wrong with that?

Me: You insisted on eating your salad on the sofa yesterday evening.

Nell: I was tired.

Me: There was lettuce everywhere.

Nell: I’m not a fan of lettuce. David usually eats it for me.

Me: Everyone else ate in the kitchen.

Nell: I needed my electric blanket.

Me: I know you’re getting older but I don’t think you should behave like a diva. Sorry.

Me: Dave never gets tired of stealing tea towels. Naughty Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Talking of tired, we’re going to have to do something about Herr Hoffmann.

Me: Why?

Nell: He fell asleep in his soup yesterday evening.

Me: I hope it wasn’t too hot. We don’t want him burning his nose.

Nell: That’s not the point. He’s an elderly bear. He needs his sleep.

Me: I’m the same.

Nell: You’re not an elderly bear.

Me: No, but I feel like one sometimes.

Nell: David’s going to have to step up. Chief Taster isn’t enough. He needs to do more.

Me: I don’t think Dave having Poppy’s recipe book is going to turn him into a cook.

Nell: I agree.

Me: Maybe we need to advertise?

Nell: In the Daily Growl?

Me: Yes.

Nell: Far too risky. Anyone could apply.

Me: Isn’t that the idea?

Nell: Do you want your food cooked by a Beefy?

Me: The advert would have to say ‘No Beefies’.

Nell: You can’t do that. It’s Beefiest.

Me: Do we know anyone with a background in cooking?

Nell: Lionel trained as a chef.

Me: You cannot be serious.

Nell: I am. Lionel has a natural flair for cooking and an excellent palate.

Me: I meant you cannot seriously think we would ever let that lion cook for us.

Nell: It was just an idea.

Me: Poppy would be furious.

Nell: She’s already shouting in my ear.

Me: Lionel King. What an awful thought.

Nell: Well, we’re going to have to come up with something. Malcolm and Manuel are doing their best, but they’re clearly struggling to cope.

Me: When do bears wake up again?

Nell: Spring. But it’s not only the hibernation factor. It’s his age.

Me: Then advertising might be the only solution. Sorry.

Me: It was windy on the beach, wasn’t it?

Nell: That’s why Kev called a brief Health and Safety Meeting.

Me: I wondered what was going on.

Nell: Harriet was very difficult to pin down.

Me: The beach is for fun, not meetings.

Nell: The waves were too big for swimming. Kev wanted to make that clear.

Me: You were extremely focused.

Nell: I always am.

Me: Chloe says you weren’t focused at hydrotherapy.

Nell: I’d had a busy day.

Me: In fact you treated it more like a spa day.

Nell: Nonsense.

Me: You not only fell asleep during your laser treatment but you rested your head on Chloe’s hand in the pool and fell asleep in there, too.

Nell: I was wearing a life jacket.

Me: I know you’ve worked out you can float.

Nell: There’s no point in walking. I never get anywhere.

Me: It’s supposed to exercise you.

Nell: I’d had enough exercise chasing that visiting spaniel down on the beach.

Me: Why do you have to do that? It’s so unfriendly and you’re never going to catch them.

Nell: It’s my beach.

Me: You know that’s not true.

Nell: Visitors need to show respect.

Me: I had to apologise and explain you were a grumpy old lady.

Nell: I don’t want to be bounced.

Me: It was just saying hello.

Nell: Moving on, there’s still a lot to do.

Me: I know.

Nell: The Christmas tree needs to come down for a start.

Me: I’ve taken all the decorations down.

Nell: Have you thanked people for their support?

Me: I always do. Each cup of tea makes a difference and is really appreciated.

Nell: Talking of tea, where’s mine? I can’t be expected to organise everything without a cup of Earl Grey.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Harriet’s not very good at Cowardy Custard. She keeps falling asleep. Dave and I are winning every time.

Nell: You can’t both play against her.

Me: We’re taking it in turns.

Nell: Leave her alone. She’s tired.

Me: Chris has booked his flight. He arrives on 17th Jan and leaves on 22nd.

Nell: Wonderful.

Me: I can’t wait to see him.

Nell: It’s a new month. You need to share the link so people can buy you a cup of Earl Grey.

Me: Must I?

Nell: You write a conversation every day and we need the financial help.

Me: It does make a big difference.

Nell: People want to support your writing. Let them.

Me: It’s buymeacoffee.com/saramartin.

Nell: Good.

Me: Nice shawl, by the way. Is it new?

Nell: You know it is.

Me: Is it perhaps a Christmas present from a certain handsome wolf?

Nell: Yes. Rupert gave it to me.

Me: With a kiss?

Nell: Stop that right now.

Me: Just asking.

Nell: Well, don’t.

Me: We’re all so pleased you and Knitwear Wolf are finally officially an item.

Nell: An item?

Me: Together. A couple.

Nell: It’s early days.

Me: You’ve known each other for years.

Nell: Let us take our time.

Me: You’re right. I’m rushing ahead of myself. I can’t help it. I’m so pleased.

Nell: I know you are.

Me: I bet that lion is furious.

Nell: If you’re referring to Lionel King, I have no idea what he thinks. I haven’t seen him.

Me: Wasn’t he at The Cat’s Fancy Dress Ball?

Nell: No, when he heard I wasn’t attending he stayed on the island.

Me: So, he might not know about you and Knitwear Wolf?

Nell: It was just a kiss. Stop turning it into a three act play.

Me: Sorry.