Me: Harriet’s outside on the picnic blanket now, too.

Nell: She doesn’t want David to hear the voice on his own.

Me: Can she hear it?

Nell: No.

Me: Can he?

Nell: Only now and again.

Me: What’s the voice saying?

Nell: He says it’s between him and Sally.

Me: But it isn’t Sally.

Nell: I know.

Me: Can’t we get Sally to talk to him?

Nell: She is.

Me: I mean the real Sally.

Nell: We will when we can find her.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: Nobody knows where she is.

Me: I thought you said she was in London.

Nell: That’s where she was supposed to be. She must be on some secret mission.

Me: Does Harriet know anything?

Nell: Obviously not, or she wouldn’t be sitting outside on a picnic blanket.

Me: True. I’ve had a thought.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: What if Dave’s hearing the real Sally?

Nell: He isn’t.

Me: What if she’s been kidnapped and she’s communicating with him like Henry and Horst?

Nell: Sally is not a woodlouse and neither is David.

Me: But Dave has Keen Ears. You’ve always said it.

Nell: I have.

Me: He’s the one who hears Henry and Horst even when others can’t.

Nell: You know you’re talking nonsense, don’t you?

Me: Stranger things have happened.

Nell: I can’t argue with that.

Me: Maybe Sally and Dave have such a close bond that he can hear her even when she’s far away.

Nell: Unlikely.

Me: You can hear Poppy.

Nell: That’s different. Although, you’ve given me an idea.

Me: What is it?

Nell: Never you mind. Tell David and Harriet to come inside for breakfast. It’s Saturday so we’re having bacon sandwiches.

Me: But Nell..

Nell: Hurry up. The bacon’s getting cold.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Dave’s outside on the picnic blanket.

Nell: He’s been out there since early morning.

Me: Maybe he’s listening to the birds. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: He’s listening to something, but it’s not the birds.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: Have you read his interview with the Daily Growl?

Me: Not yet. Is mine in there, too? I did quite well. They took a photo of my bruised arm but I told them it didn’t hurt much anymore.

Nell: Never mind your arm, we have far more important things to worry about.

Me: Do we?

Nell: Yes. Apparently, David is hearing voices.

Me: Voices?

Nell: Well, one voice in particular.

Me: Is it Walter Pigeon? Only he’s set up home in the bush by the gate and he and his family are extremely noisy. Kev wanted to cut it back but he says he can’t if Walter’s living there.

Nell: Stop rabbiting on about Walter. I’m talking about Sally.

Me: Sally the Golden Retriever? Head of the Secret Service and love of Dave’s life?

Nell: Yes. According to this article, Dave rushed out of the gate and up the lane because he heard Sally barking ‘Help me, Davey!’

Me: Why didn’t he tell us?

Nell: Sally told him not to.

Me: Then why tell the Daily Growl?

Nell: The reporter got it out of him. As soon as I saw they’d sent a Bloodhound I knew we were in trouble.

Me: No, you didn’t. I saw you offering him a scone.

Nell: It was a shop bought scone. I wanted to see if he’d notice.

Me: And did he?

Nell: Yes.

Me: But how could Dave have heard Sally? She’s in London.

Nell: I agree. Something’s not right. We need to talk to David.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: I know I say this a lot but I’ll never take living in Devon for granted. We’re so fortunate to have this wonderful scenery on our doorstep.

Nell: We are.

Me: Walking with you all amongst the gentle green of Spring calms the mind.

Nell: I’m not sure it’s going to calm David’s mind when he reads the headlines in today’s Daily Growl.

Me: Why? What do they say?

Nell: ‘Best Mayor Goes Beserk’.

Me: He didn’t go beserk. He just went a little bit wild.

Nell: It gets worse. ‘Newly crowned Best Mayor David Martin went on the rampage in Devon. Trampling through fields shocking corgis and llamas and injuring innocent bystanders in the process.’

Me: Only one bystander and we were shocked because it wasn’t like him.

Nell: I’m afraid the damage is done. He could lose his crown.

Me: It’s not a proper crown, Nell.

Nell: His reputation is in tatters.

Me: I wonder who told the Daily Growl?

Nell: Someone with a grudge against David.

Me: Yes.

Nell: He’s going to have to issue an apology. There’s nothing else to be done.

Me: I suppose not.

Nell: You will have to be interviewed, of course.

Me: Why?

Nell: You’re the victim.

Me: I’m fine. It’s just a cut and a bruise.

Nell: Exactly. They could also talk to some of the lesser shocked corgis but we should leave the llamas out of it.

Me: Probably wise.

Nell: They’re dreadfully excitable and tend to fall over in times of stress.

Me: Not a good look.

Nell: No.

Me: Has Dave seen the Daily Growl yet?

Nell: I don’t think he has. You’d better go and tell him now before someone else does.

Me: Why me?

Nell: I’ve got all the interviews to organise.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: David would like you to know that he deeply regrets yesterday’s reckless behaviour.

Me: He should.

Nell: How is your arm today?

Me: Rather sore.

Nell: It will be for quite a while.

Me: Yes.

Nell: It might help if we went through what happened again. You were eagerly awaiting the arrival of your Dear Friends.

Me: I was.

Nell: The cake was ready and the kettle was boiling.

Me: Yes.

Nell: The Welsh Corgi Choir were singing in the field and the llamas were limbering up.

Me: Yes.

Nell: Harriet and I were wearing our hats and David was ready to serve.

Me: He was definitely ready for something.

Nell: A car pulled in, but as you opened the gate, David rushed out and up the lane.

Me: Closely followed by Harriet.

Nell: She was trying to catch him.

Me: I hardly had time to say hello to my Dear Friends. I hadn’t seen them for years.

Nell: I know.

Me: Dave had to be stopped before he ran up to the main road.

Nell: You called and called.

Me: But only Harriet returned. Daveless.

Nell: He wouldn’t listen to her.

Me: Then I saw him, but he ran right past me and over to the orchard.

Nell: Fortunately your sister Charlotte arrived.

Me: Yes.

Nell: And with her help, and a scoop of biscuits, David was secured.

Me: Only as we reached the house, he went wild again and dashed inside pulling me into the edge of the gate.

Nell: And injuring your arm.

Me: I was so exhausted I could hardly speak to anyone.

Nell: I was more than capable of taking over the hosting, however, and everyone had a very pleasant afternoon.

Me: I’m still cross with him.

Nell: He knows and he’s very sorry.

Me: Have you noticed a change in Dave since he was crowned Best Mayor?

Nell: What do you mean?

Me: He has a statesmanly air about him.

Nell: It’s statesmanlike.

Me: A sort of weightiness.

Nell: You mean gravitas.

Me: I can see why the Beefies call him ‘Your Majesty’.

Nell: Don’t you start.

Me: I mean he’s always had film star looks. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: David is a handsome animal.

Me: But now he has a new confidence.

Nell: He’s going to be 7 in June. He’s growing up.

Me: But I don’t want him to grow up. I love his boyishness.

Nell: You know, and I know, that David will always be a boy. It’s in his nature.

Me: Yes, you’re right.

Nell: Now, the sun is shining and you have guests this afternoon.

Me: I do. My sister Charlotte and two dear old friends whom I haven’t seen in years.

Nell: Herr Hoffmann has made a cake and I suggest we serve it outside on the terrace.

Me: Will it be warm enough?

Nell: Coats can be worn and we have blankets.

Me: True.

Nell: And being outside means everyone can join in.

Me: What do you mean by everyone? Not the Beefy Choir?

Nell: What are you talking about? Of course we’re not inviting the Beefy Choir.

Me: Thank goodness for that.

Nell: The Welsh Corgi Choir would be furious.

Me: Are they performing?

Nell: Only some gentle background singing from the field.

Me: I see.

Nell: And the llamas have promised to keep the cartwheeling to a minimum. You’ll hardly notice them.

Me: If you say so.

Nell: I’m pulling your leg. David will serve the cake and Harriet and I will join you for a cup of tea.

Me: Right. Sorry.

Me: It’s amazing what a little bit of sunshine and a glimpse of blue sky can do for the spirits.

Nell: It certainly lifts the mood.

Me: You love our walks by the river, don’t you?

Nell: The river has always been my favourite place. Soft grass and cool clear water. What more could one want?

Me: I’m afraid I’m a sea person, Nell. Like Harriet. I was born on an island and I grew up by the sea so it’s in my blood.

Nell: Harriet was born in Oxfordshire.

Me: I know but she was only a few months old when we moved to Devon.

Nell: So was David and he’s not water mad.

Me: Davey just goes with the flow. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: You’re going to have to tell him to stop wearing that crown.

Me: Why? He’s enjoying himself.

Nell: The Beefies have started calling him ‘Your Majesty’.

Me: Really?

Nell: Ever since they formed the Beefy Choir they’ve been behaving strangely.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: They’re almost polite.

Me: That can’t be true. Beefies are the rudest birds I know.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: They pride themselves on their Nastiness.

Nell: Not anymore. They actually bowed at me yesterday.

Me: Are you sure?

Nell: There was nobody else there.

Me: I’m beginning to think Herr Hoffmann might be a Beefy Whisperer.

Nell: He certainly has a way with them.

Me: They don’t even mind being called his ‘Luffly little girls’.

Nell: I’ve told him it’s gulls but he can’t pronounce it properly.

Me: What if they’ve turned over a new leaf?

Nell: Why bring leaves into this?

Me: I mean really changed their ways.

Nell: It’s just a phase.

Me: You think Lionel’s changed.

Nell: That’s different.

Me: No, it isn’t. Sorry.

Me: Look at darling Harriet dreaming away. Have you noticed her grey chin?

Nell: Never mind that. Let her sleep. She’s exhausted. It was a very long drive.

Me: I’m so glad you decided to come back from London last night.

Nell: We had no choice. The Whippets Institute needed their minibus back.

Me: Why?

Nell: How else were they going to get to Sunday Songs?

Me: Oh yes. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose they could have missed it for once.

Nell: Miss Sunday Songs? I don’t think so.

Me: You must be tired, too.

Nell: I am, but I managed to sleep a little on the coach after a small sherry.

Me: There was sherry on the coach?

Nell: The Whippets Institute never go anywhere without it.

Me: Of course, sherry is their favourite tipple. My grandmother always loved a small glass of sweet sherry before her roast dinner on a Sunday.

Nell: It’s got nothing to do with tipples. They never know when they might be asked to whip up a quick trifle.

Me: Right. Silly me.

Nell: Anyway, Harriet was far too excited to sleep so she’s making up for it now.

Me: Dave seems fine. He’s still wearing his crown.

Nell: Yes, even after I told him ‘No crowns at breakfast’.

Me: Indulge him, Nell. It’s his special time.

Nell: Herr Hoffmann has made fresh rolls for everyone in his honour. Sweet and savoury.

Me: How delicious.

Nell: And the Beefy Choir is serenading him as we speak.

Me: The what?

Nell: The Beefy Choir. Do keep up. They sing for their supper, or any kind of meal, to be honest. You must have heard them.

Me: I thought it was just the usual screeching.

Nell: It’s organised screeching now.

Me: I see. Sorry.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: Has the ceremony taken place?

Nell: It has.

Me: Did you meet the King?

Nell: We did not.

Me: Was it Prince William?

Nell: No.

Me: The Princess Royal?

Nell: No. It was Bluebell and Beth.

Me: Who are Bluebell and Beth?

Nell: They’re royal Jack Russells with humble beginnings.

Me: How exciting.

Nell: The King rescued them from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home.

Me: How wonderful.

Nell: And he asked them to perform the ceremony.

Me: Was Dave very disappointed?

Nell: David wasn’t disappointed at all. He isn’t that kind of animal.

Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: I was, however.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: I had so many things I wanted to discuss with the King. Starting with Beach Restrictions.

Me: I’m not sure that would have been the right time or place, Nell.

Nell: It doesn’t matter now, anyway.

Me: Is Dave wearing a crown?

Nell: Yes, but it’s not real gold.

Me: I didn’t think it would be. Are you still at Buckingham Palace?

Nell: Yes. We’re in the gardens.

Me: That’s nice. Who are all the other dogs?

Nell: That’s the unbelievable part.

Me: Tell me.

Nell: David isn’t the only winner.

Me: What?

Nell: He’s Best Mayor.

Me: Thank goodness for that.

Nell: But the West Highland Terrier is Almost Best Mayor and that slinky Weimaraner is Nearly Best Mayor.

Me: Well, that’s fair enough, isn’t it?

Nell: Second placed animals should not wear crowns.

Me: The Weimaraner is wearing a tiara.

Nell: I know.

Me: It seems perfectly contented.

Nell: It is.

Me: Well, I think you should all just enjoy yourselves. It’s David’s special day and what’s the harm in sharing it with others?

Nell: You’re right.

Me: I am, aren’t I? Sorry.

Me: The rain was awful but I love how green and lush everything looks.

Nell: I’m presuming you mean ‘lush’ in the truest sense of the word?

Me: Yes, I wasn’t being Welsh, although it fits, too.

Nell: Now, before we continue, please post the link to the site where people can support you again as some people might have missed it.

Me: Okay. It’s: buymeacoffee.com/saramartin and thank you so much to those of you who were kind enough to contribute. It means a lot.

Nell: Apparently, some people are no longer being notified that you have posted.

Me: Yes, I wonder if it’s because of the new subscription option.

Nell: Well, it’s only £1 a month, so if anyone’s not receiving notifications they could try subscribing and see if that changes anything.

Me: Yes.

Nell: Anyway, back to today. After much consideration, and a request from Rupert, David, Harriet and I have decided to travel up to London in the Whippets Institute minibus.

Me: That’s a relief. Good for Knitwear Wolf. I knew he could persuade you.

Nell: He offered to take me in his sidecar but it’s not the most comfortable of vehicles, to be honest.

Me: Princess loves it.

Nell: Princess is not called Lady Blubbery for no reason. She has natural cushioning.

Me: Princess isn’t Lady Blubbery at all, Nell. Poppy knighted Sir Roger with her sword.

Nell: Potato, potahto. Moving on, we’re being collected this afternoon. The ceremony is tomorrow morning so we will be spending the night in London.

Me: Where?

Nell: Sally has booked us all into a lovely little hotel near Buckingham Palace.

Me: You would think King Charles could have offered you accommodation. The Palace has plenty of rooms.

Nell: It’s an award ceremony, not bed and breakfast.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Why is Dave wearing a feathered hat?

Nell: Why do you think?

Me: Well, it is a bit cold this morning.

Nell: It’s got nothing to do with the weather. Buckingham Palace just called.

Me: That’s nice. Why?

Nell: Why do you think?

Me: I don’t know. That’s why I asked.

Nell: David’s won. He’s been voted the Best Mayor in the United Kingdom

Me: Gosh. That is a feather in his cap. See what I did there?

Nell: Very droll.

Me: It’s wonderful news. We need to celebrate.

Nell: We’re starting with bacon sandwiches and Herr Hoffmann is making David a special cake for tea.

Me: How lovely.

Nell: The ceremony is taking place at Buckingham Palace on Saturday and David is allowed three guests.

Me: That will be you, Sally and Harriet, I suppose?

Nell: Yes. Mr Giggles has offered to drive us to London in Lionel’s car.

Me: You have to be joking, Nell. You can’t possibly be considering letting that mad elderly hyena drive you anywhere.

Nell: Calm down and stop being so ageist.

Me: Why don’t you take the train? Or let Knitwear Wolf drive you?

Nell: I’m not arriving at Buckingham Palace on a motorbike.

Me: Sally can’t have agreed to this.

Nell: She doesn’t know yet.

Me: I’m going to tell her.

Nell: Lionel has a lovely big car and Mr Giggles is an experienced driver.

Me: I give up.

Nell: Good. Now, do I wear my pearls?

Me: I’m still telling Sally.

Nell: Go ahead. I expect David’s already spoken to her.

Me: What about the Whippets’ Institute minibus?

Nell: What about it?

Me: Wouldn’t that be a better idea?

Nell: Have you seen it lately? It’s on its last legs.

Me: A bit like Mr Giggles.

Nell: Enough.

Me: Sorry.