Me: My darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy is home! Waking up to see his gorgeous face staring at me was absolutely wonderful.
Nell: David wasn’t actually supposed to wake you, but he insisted on running straight upstairs.
Me: I don’t care. My boy’s home. That’s all that matters.
Nell: He didn’t come home alone.
Me: I hope he didn’t bring that wretched lion with him.
Nell: Lionel King is not the villain you think he is.
Me: Is he here?
Nell: No. Someone else is.
Me: Tell me what happened.
Nell: Rupert was out delivering the papers when he saw David cycling down our lane in a feathered hat with a large black bird on it, no baguettes, and a box full of seashells.
Me: This is beginning to sound like the game when you have to remember what everyone bought.
Nell: It’s definitely not a game.
Me: Did you say ‘big black bird’?
Nell: Yes.
Me: Is it here?
Nell: Don’t call her ‘it’, please. Her name is Claudette Corbeau and she’s staying for Sunday roast.
Me: Are you telling me we have a member of NOIR in our house?
Nell: I am.
Me: The Notorious Organisation of International Rooks?
Nell: Claudette is not a rook. She’s a raven.
Me: Ravens, rooks. It makes no difference.
Nell: It most certainly does. Ravens are much larger than rooks. Claudette and David first bonded over their size.
Me: First bonded?
Nell: David and Claudette have known each other for years.
Me: You’re joking.
Nell: They’re pen pals. I told you David spoke French.
Me: I don’t know what to say.
Nell: Then say nothing. Now, get your coat and hat and come outside. Claudette and David are singing together at Sunday Songs. You don’t want to miss it.
Me: Right. Sorry.
