Nell: You can come down onto the beach now. The tide has gone out.

Me: Just so you know, Nell, I’m never doing that again.

Nell: Calm down. We’ve got the whole weekend before you have to ride home.

Me: As if riding a horse sheriff down the tiny Devon lanes wasn’t attention seeking enough, I had a whole entourage.

Nell: Stop exaggerating.

Me: I was followed by a wolf on a motorbike with a Labrador in the sidecar and two Labradors pulling a cart. One of whom was wearing a silver chain.

Nell: Our luggage had to go somewhere and David is the Mayor of Kingsbridge

Me: And why did The Cat decide to come with us?

Nell: It’s a huge Agatha Christie fan.

Me: Did it have to wear such a large feathered hat?

Nell: Yes.

Me: And ride with me?

Nell: It wasn’t going in the cart.

Me: People clapped.

Nell: I know. Wasn’t it delightful?

Me: They thought we were a travelling circus.

Nell: Yes, it was all quite hilarious.

Me: How I managed to get on to Trundle I’ll never know.

Nell: John Mane is very good at climbing steps.

Me: I saw my life flashing in front of me.

Nell: Don’t be so melodramatic.

Me: Sitting on top of a large horse crossing to Burgh Island on a sea tractor is not something I want to repeat.

Nell: As I told you before, it will only be for the return journey.

Me: Can’t we just wait for the tide to go out?

Nell: Why, when we can give so many people so much joy?

Me: I didn’t see many people, apart from the hotel staff.

Nell: You made the headlines in today’s Daily Growl. ‘Agatha Martin Rides In’. Want to see?

Me: No. Sorry.

Me: Was that you, Nell?

Nell: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: I think it was.

Nell: Stuff and nonsense.

Me: Dave thinks it was you, too.

Nell: David’s in no position to comment.

Me: Actually, he is.

Nell: It was probably him, anyway.

Me: That’s unfair. Dave’s not much of a trumpeter. Thank goodness. You’re the one who eats lots of vegetables.

Nell: Could we move on, please?

Me: Of course.

Nell: John Mane is arriving soon and you’re not even dressed.

Me: I like to write in my pyjamas.

Nell: You can’t ride in them.

Me: Ride?

Nell: Where are your jodhpurs and riding boots?

Me: I don’t have any.

Nell: And you’ll need a hard hat. The Cat was hoping a cowboy hat would do, but Health and Safety said it wouldn’t.

Me: Health and Safety?

Nell: My nickname for Henry and Horst. They like to play by the rules.

Me: I’m not riding John Mane to Burgh Island.

Nell: You have to.

Me: Why?

Nell: It turns out David was only offered the Agatha Christie Beach House because he said you were coming and needed to write.

Me: So, along with needing to write, I also need to bring a horse and a giant Labrador?

Nell: Possibly two Labradors. Harriet hasn’t decided if she’s joining us.

Me: Why don’t we make it three Labradors while we’re at it? Then you can come along, too.

Nell: Don’t worry about me. I’m going in Rupert’s side car.

Me: I don’t believe this.

Nell: We might as well have a little holiday. The Beach House is quite big.

Me: Don’t you think the Beefies might notice?

Nell: It’s the perfect cover for being on the island. Now, get dressed. John will be here soon.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Something is going on.

Nell: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: Dave is oblivious as usual, darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy, but you and Harriet are on high alert.

Nell: Stuff and nonsense.

Me: I could see you watching my every move.

Nell: Why on earth would we be doing that?

Me: I have no idea. I don’t even have any food. Harriet was fairly blatant about it, but you were sneaky and watched me behind Dave’s huge head.

Nell: You’re letting your imagination run away with you again.

Me: Not the first time someone’s said that to me.

Nell: Back in the real world, what do you think about horses and paddle boarding?

Me: Don’t tell me John Mane is going to paddle board to the island?

Nell: Rupert does it all the time.

Me: I know. The first time we saw Knitwear Wolf he was paddleboarding at Hope Cove.

Nell: He was.

Me: I don’t think there’s room for a horse on a paddle board.

Nell: Maybe not.

Me: Unless they could fit two together like a catamaran?

Nell: Too risky.

Me: I think we should approach Trundle the sea tractor again and ask him to reconsider.

Nell: You do realise Trundle isn’t actually the one making the decisions, don’t you?

Me: How do you know?

Nell: Good grief.

Me: If people looked at us they might think I’m the one making the decisions and we both know that isn’t true.

Nell: The mere idea.

Me: Exactly.

Nell: I’m not a sea tractor.

Me: Anyway, I think John Mane should just roll up there and get on.

Nell: Have you ever ridden a horse?

Me: It was a pony in the African mountains and it was a disaster.

Nell: Just asking.

Me: Not happening. Sorry.

Me: It’s really lovely to see Dave running around freely.

Nell: We all enjoyed the activity field.

Me: Freshly mown grass always smells wonderful.

Nell: And it’s soft under paw.

Me: And fun to roll in, according to Harriet.

Nell: Dog and Dash is a good name for an activity field.

Me: Yes, it is. Although for you it could be Ambling Animal.

Nell: There’s nothing wrong with an amble. I still get to where I want to go.

Me: I agree. I’m a bit of an ambler myself, nowadays.

Nell: It was good to see your sister Charlotte yesterday.

Me: Yes. We’re both missing Alex. This time last year she was still with us.

Nell: I know.

Me: I completely forgot it was St. Patrick’s Day yesterday.

Nell: So did I.

Me: Apologies to all our dear Irish readers. I hope you had a wonderful day.

Nell: Dorothy disgraced herself at The Salty Sea Dog by dancing on the tables.

Me: Is that the pub on the estuary?

Nell: Yes. Naughty Nigel led her astray. I believe Guinness was involved. She’s bitterly regretting it now, of course.

Me: Dorothy’s an Irish Setter, Nell. It was her special day.

Nell: Dorothy is one of the Salcombe Setters. She should know better.

Me: Everyone needs to let their hair down now and again. It wasn’t that long ago you were bouncing in pyjamas with a rather handsome wolf.

Nell: Only briefly.

Me: Still. Don’t go judging poor Dorothy. Maybe you could pop round later with some of Herr Hoffmann’s pickled fish? Germans say it’s good for a hangover.

Nell: That’s a dreadful idea. Dorothy can barely manage a cup of sweet tea. What’s she going to do if I arrive on her doorstep with a pickled herring?

Me: You’re right. Sorry.

Me: Why are you looking at me like that?

Nell: Today is Sunday.

Me: I know it is.

Nell: What does Sunday mean?

Me: Sunday is a day of rest.

Nell: Yes.

Me: It starts with a good breakfast, usually involving bacon and always involving eggs.

Nell: What else?

Me: We celebrate Sunday Songs mostly outside in the field but maybe in The Barn today if it doesn’t stop raining.

Nell: Umbrellas and raincoats will be provided. What happens next?

Me: Reading the Sunday papers in front of the fire until the Sunday roast is ready?

Nell: Ha!

Me: Why did you say ‘Ha’?

Nell: Because we aren’t having a Sunday roast.

Me: Oh.

Nell: Because someone told Herr Hoffmann we’d been eating a lot of rich food recently and a light chicken broth would do.

Me: I’m not sure I said ‘light’.

Nell: What on earth is John Mane going to say when he arrives for lunch and is presented with a bowl of broth?

Me: I’m sure he won’t mind.

Nell: Especially after all the excitement of yesterday with his mad gallop across the sands followed by a fruitless search and a dangerous swim home.

Me: The tide was only starting to come in.

Nell: It was enough to get his hooves wet.

Me: He’s going to have to stay over on the island if he wants to find Lionel. A quick visit isn’t enough.

Nell: David wants to go with him next time.

Me: Dave does?

Nell: He’s the size of a small pony and he’s the Mayor of Kingsbridge.

Me: I don’t like that idea at all.

Nell: He’s been offered the use of the Agatha Christie Beach House.

Me: Can I go, too?

Nell: After the Chicken Broth Debacle? I think not.

Me: No. Sorry.

Me: I often wonder what Harriet is thinking when she sits and stares out of the window for hours.

Nell: She’s Thinking Thoughts.

Me: Do you think Dave’s Thinking Thoughts, too?

Nell: I don’t think David’s Thoughts are quite as deep. They’re probably mainly about bacon.

Me: And Cuddles. Dave loves a good cuddle. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Cuddles are particularly welcome after a bacon sandwich so David will definitely be up for one later.

Me: What about you?

Nell: It depends on my schedule.

Me: Why are you wearing your reading glasses?

Nell: I’m checking the tides for John Mane. As Trundle won’t take him, he is going to have to gallop over to the island.

Me: Who is Trundle?

Nell: The sea tractor. Do keep up.

Me: I didn’t know.

Nell: It says here that low tide will be at 3:50pm and high tide at 9:50pm so he’s going to have to make sure he gallops back again in good time.

Me: What if Lionel King doesn’t care about the tides?

Nell: I shouldn’t think he does.

Me: What if he just wants to be allowed to roam freely with a matted mane?

Nell: It doesn’t matter what Lionel thinks. Roary needs to know he is safe.

Me: If I had a matted mane I might not want to talk to a horse called John Mane. I might find it a bit provoking.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: I might think he was just there to rub his long silky mane in my face.

Nell: John Mane is a horse sheriff hired by Roary King the lion cub to find his father Lionel. It’s as simple as that.

Me: Galloping over to the island between tides isn’t that simple, Nell.

Nell: I give up.

Me: Sorry.

Me: This is just a hunch, but could it be that you and Dave partied a little too much yesterday?

Nell: Keep your voice down. Some of us are still trying to sleep.

Me: Dave can hardly keep his eyes open.

Nell: Leave him alone.

Me: Can dogs have headaches?

Nell: Good grief.

Me: Only Dave looks like he might have one.

Nell: Yes, and it’s you.

Me: That’s not very nice, Nell.

Nell: David needs a quiet day, and so do I.

Me: I’ll try and speak softly.

Nell: Thank you.

Me: So many people wished you a Happy Birthday. Wasn’t that kind of them?

Nell: Very.

Me: I’m glad you decided to have a quick bounce with Knitwear Wolf.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: On the bouncy castle.

Nell: It was the champagne talking, to be honest. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Me: You had fun and that’s all that matters.

Nell: Do you think you could ask Herr Hoffmann for a freshly baked roll?

Me: Of course.

Nell: With a little farmhouse butter?

Me: Yes.

Nell: And perhaps a lightly boiled egg on the side?

Me: Anything else?

Nell: Only a pot of Earl Grey and the Daily Growl if Rupert’s delivered the papers.

Me: I don’t think a wolf of his age and standing should be working as a paper boy.

Nell: Rupert’s not a paper boy. He merely collects our newspaper in the morning.

Me: Oh, I see. I thought he was taking them to everyone.

Nell: He might take a few things to the sick and needy. You know what he’s like.

Me: Well, you certainly fit into that category this morning.

Nell: Could you take a cup of tea and an egg to David too then, please?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Happy Birthday to you, darling Nell.

Nell: Thank you.

Me: I can’t believe you’re twelve.

Nell: Well, I am. Is that a bouncy castle?

Me: Did you enjoy your birthday breakfast?

Nell: Stop changing the subject.

Me: Dave said bacon sandwiches were definitely the way to go.

Nell: Go where?

Me: And to be honest it’s much easier for Herr Hoffmann to distribute.

Nell: Distribute?

Me: Amongst all the animals.

Nell: What animals?

Me: I wrote you a poem. Would you like to hear it?

Nell: Go on then.

Me: ‘I know I might have said this before

And I’ve probably said it to you,

But when singing the praises of this Labrador

Everything about her is true.

She’s bold, she’s wise,

She has so much to say.

Preferably after a scone

And a cup of Earl Grey.

I know she said

She wanted no fuss.

I know she meant it too,

But to be honest we really wouldn’t be us

If we always did what she wants us to do.

So bring out the cake,

And the corgis and llamas.

I’ll explain to you later

Why they’re wearing pyjamas.

It’s Nelly’s 12th birthday

And all is well.

Because that’s how it is

In the world of Nell.’

Nell: So, why are the llamas wearing pyjamas?

Me: It’s easier to bounce.

Nell: And why are you wearing them?

Me: It’s a pyjama party. We thought you might enjoy it.

Nell: Do I look like a pyjama sort of Labrador to you?

Me: The Cat has organised silk pyjamas for you and Knitwear Wolf is looking awfully handsome in his woollen ones.

Nell: I suppose I could give it a try. And you know what they say.

Me: I don’t, actually.

Nell: You’re only twelve once.

Me: Of course. Sorry.

Me: We had to walk an awfully long way to get to the sea, didn’t we?

Nell: Harriet ran the whole way.

Me: She never walks on the beach. She only runs straight into the sea.

Nell: How she can swim in such cold water is completely beyond me.

Me: I saw you and Dave looking at her in amazement.

Nell: Horses swim, you know.

Me: Do they?

Nell: Yes. John Mane is seriously considering swimming over to the island.

Me: I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

Nell: Sir Roger Blubbery has advised him against it.

Me: You do realise he isn’t actually a Sir, don’t you? Poppy knighted him with her sword.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: What does that mean?

Nell: If it’s good enough for Poppy, it’s good enough for me.

Me: Which means I have to agree with you.

Nell: Correct.

Me: What did Sir Roger say?

Nell: There are strong currents and rip tides around the island.

Me: If seals struggle, then horses definitely will. Why was John Mane even considering it?

Nell: They won’t take horses on the sea tractor.

Me: How horseist of them.

Nell: I agree. Shocking.

Me: Couldn’t he just wait for the tide to go out and gallop over?

Nell: That might be the answer.

Me: It’s your birthday tomorrow.

Nell: I know.

Me: You’re going to be 12.

Nell: I’m aware of that.

Me: Which is quite old in dog years.

Nell: Thank you for pointing that out.

Me: Do you want a big party, or would you prefer something more sedate and low key?

Nell: A small get together will suffice.

Me: Are you sure?

Nell: A quiet lunch, or afternoon tea, would be lovely.

Me: What about a bouncy castle?

Nell: Senior Labradors don’t bounce.

Me: No. Sorry.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: I just might.

Nell: Have you ever heard of John Mane?

Me: I think you mean Wayne.

Nell: No, his name’s John. Although he wants me to call him Marion for some reason.

Me: Are we talking about a cowboy?

Nell: He’s more of a sheriff. He has one of those sheriff star badges on his hat.

Me: Isn’t it usually worn on the shirt?

Nell: Horses don’t wear shirts. They wear coats now and again, but never shirts.

Me: Is John Mane a horse?

Nell: Of course he’s a horse. Didn’t you see his huge head sticking through the stable door when you walked through the kitchen?

Me: I didn’t notice.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: What’s John Mane doing in the back garden?

Nell: He’s come to see Roary.

Me: Roary King the lion cub? Lionel’s son?

Nell: Roary isn’t a cub anymore. He hasn’t been one for years.

Me: Is John Mane a friend of his?

Nell: No. Roary wants him to look into what’s going on with Lionel.

Me: This might be a silly question, but why choose a sheriff horse?

Nell: He was researching manes on the internet and stumbled across John.

Me: Manes?

Nell: Lionel was spotted on the island by Sir Roger Blubbery and Princess with a matted mane. Do keep up.

Me: Oh yes. It all makes sense now.

Nell: Does it?

Me: Not really.

Nell: Roary’s worried about his father. So he’s asked John Mane to do some investigating.

Me: Let me get this right. You’re telling me a large horse in a cowboy hat is going to the island undercover to track down a lion with a matted mane?

Nell: Nobody mentioned undercover. John Mane wears his badge with pride.

Me: Yes. Sorry.