Me: Dave’s looking at himself in the mirror again.
Nell: How many times do I have to tell you it isn’t David? It’s the Other David.
Me: You don’t really believe that.
Nell: Just leave them alone. I don’t take photos of you when you do your Morning Staring at the Other Sara.
Me: I’m staring at myself. Actually, I’m trying not to. Looking into mirrors is depressing, nowadays.
Nell: Well, you do an awful lot of it.
Me: Everyone does.
Nell: I don’t. I try and avoid the Other Nell as much as possible.
Me: I’m on your side there.
Nell: David is different. He loves the Other David.
Me: Dave loves everyone. He made a new friend on the beach.
Nell: Did he?
Me: Yes. An elderly Labrador called Frank.
Nell: Frank’s not a new friend. I’ve known him for years.
Me: You never mentioned him before.
Nell: I don’t have to tell you everything.
Me: How do you know Frank?
Nell: He was my accountant.
Me: You had an accountant?
Nell: Yes.
Me: Why?
Nell: Someone has to do the books.
Me: You don’t have any books.
Nell: That’s what you think.
Me: And if you did, you’d need a bookkeeper.
Nell: Frank does it all. I should say ‘did’. He’s retired now.
Me: You’re making this up.
Nell: I am not. I leave that to you.
Me: Next time we’re on the beach and we see Frank I’m going to ask him.
Nell: He won’t tell you anything. Frank is the soul of discretion. He never discusses his clients.
Me: You have an answer for everything,
Nell: And you ask far too many questions.
Me: Dave’s stopped looking at himself.
Nell: That’s because the Other David has things to do. As do you.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
