Me: You left the lettuce again, didn’t you?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: In your salad bowl. You left the lettuce for Harriet to eat.

Nell: Caring is sharing.

Me: You threw it on the floor, Nell. You fished out the tasty tomatoes and cucumber.

Nell: Moving on, the beret-wearing Beefy has become something of a celebrity in the village.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes. People are taking photos.

Me: Does it mind?

Nell: Not at all. I think it’s rather enjoying itself.

Me: What about Ramson Hunter? Are people taking photos with him?

Nell: Certainly not. Those piercing blue eyes do not invite confidence and he’s gone, anyway.

Me: Gone? Where?

Nell: How should I know? He’s probably intimidating someone else at another bus stop.

Me: I’m not sure he limits himself to bus stops.

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: No.

Nell: Henry and Horst have received information that Lady Anwen will be dining at the local pub this evening,

Me: How interesting.

Nell: Rumour has it she’s booked a table for two.

Me: In the garden?

Nell: I have no idea. Why?

Me: It’s lovely in the garden at this time of year.

Nell: Kev and your sister Charlotte are going to pop in there for a drink.

Me: My sister Charlotte?

Nell: She and Nigel are coming for the weekend.

Me: What about me?

Nell: You can’t be trusted.

Me: I’m perfectly able to have a drink in a pub garden.

Nell: It’s not about that.

Me: Why else would they go?

Nell: Charlotte will be wearing your hat. Maybe Henry and Horst can record the conversation.

Me: Charlotte and Kev might not want their conversation recorded.

Nell: I’m talking about Lady Anwen.

Me: Why didn’t you say so?

Nell: I give up.

Me: Sorry.

Me: Dave and Harriet are on alert. Dave hasn’t stopped looking out of the window. Darling boy.

Nell: Are they at the bus stop again?

Me: Yes. The beret-wearing Beefy isn’t sharing his prawns with Lady Anwen which is surprisingly rude, if you ask me.

Nell: Nobody’s going to ask you ever again.

Me: You just did.

Nell: I can’t believe the way you behaved yesterday. You’re the worst undercover spy I’ve ever had the misfortune to work with in my entire life.

Me: That’s a bit harsh.

Nell: You walked across the road to the bus stop and said ‘Hello, Lady Anwen. Mind if I wait here, too?’

Me: We needed to know if it was her.

Nell: It’s called undercover for a reason.

Me: She wasn’t very chatty. I tried to engage her in conversation several times but she wasn’t interested.

Nell: You weren’t supposed to talk to her at all.

Me: You can’t just sit next to someone at a bus stop and say nothing. It’s unfriendly.

Nell: People do it all the time.

Me: The beret-wearing Beefy is from Plymouth, by the way. He’s on his holidays here.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: I told him if he was on holiday there were much better things to do than stand at a bus stop all day.

Nell: Unbelievable.

Me: It’s true. We have some lovely beaches.

Nell: What did he say?

Me: ‘Thanks, buddy.’

Nell: I give up.

Me: I see the French rook is back.

Nell: What French rook?

Me: The one eating a baguette. He was listening to my conversation with Lady Anwen yesterday muttering ‘Zut alors!’.

Nell: We didn’t see him.

Me: He’s on the neighbours’ big bird table pretending to be a jackdaw.

Nell: Why didn’t you tell me this before?

Me: Sorry.

Me: Do you know something I don’t?

Nell: Almost certainly.

Me: I’m being serious. Dave and Harriet are looking really worried. Especially Harriet.

Nell: They’re at the bus stop again.

Me: The veiled corgi and the beret-wearing Beefy?

Nell: Yes, only this time they’re not alone.

Me: This is getting like ‘I went to market and I bought’.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: You know the game where you have to remember what everyone bought?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: Never mind. Who’s with them this time? The Stuffed Tiger?

Nell: The Stuffed Tiger is far too lazy to leave the top of the chest of drawers.

Me: So, who is it?

Nell: Ramson Hunter.

Me: The terrifying sheep with the piercing blue eyes?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Quite.

Me: They’re not going to let him on the bus.

Nell: He’s not waiting for a bus. None of them are.

Me: They have no business being at the bus stop then.

Nell: Lots of villagers use the bus stop to have a little sit down and a chat.

Me: Is that what they’re doing?

Nell: No. They’re staring at our house.

Me: That’s nasty and intimidating.

Nell: Well, we’re not putting up with it for much longer.

Me: Good.

Nell: Put these sunglasses on.

Me: I’m not going out there.

Nell: Someone has to.

Me: I can’t go alone.

Nell: Here’s your hat.

Me: A hat won’t help.

Nell: Henry and Horst are on it. Now, casually stroll over to the bus stop.

Me: I don’t want to.

Nell: Pretend to be waiting and leave the rest to Henry and Horst.

Me: They can’t fight Ramson Hunter, a veiled corgi and a beret-wearing Beefy.

Nell: No, but they can record them.

Me: I see. Sorry.

Nell: You need to have a harsh word with David.

Me: Why? Has he eaten something by mistake?

Nell: It depends.

Me: On what?

Nell: Do you have any food in your handbag?

Me: I don’t think so. Was Davey snoofling in there again?

Nell: Firstly, stop calling him Davey. He’s a grown animal. And secondly, snoofling is not a word.

Me: If it isn’t, it should be.

Nell: David knows he’s not allowed in your handbag.

Me: Sometimes being told not to do something means you want to do it all the more.

Nell: Only if you’re naughty.

Me: Gladys isn’t allowed in your handbag but she still sleeps in there now and again.

Nell: And David carries her around.

Me: I know. It’s adorable. Maybe that’s what he was doing?

Nell: What?

Me: Looking for Gladys.

Nell: She’s gliding with the llamas at the recreation ground.

Me: Davey might have forgotten that. He’s a bear of little brain.

Nell: David is not a bear.

Me: He’s my bear. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: You’re obviously not going to reprimand him for nosing around in your handbag, so I’ll have to do it.

Me: Maybe we should get him his own handbag?

Nell: Now you’re being silly.

Me: I have one and you have one.

Nell: David doesn’t need one.

Me: He could put his sandwiches in it.

Nell: What sandwiches?

Me: His travelling sandwiches. Herr Hoffmann always packs a picnic when we go somewhere.

Nell: David isn’t going anywhere.

Me: He might want to pop up to the recreation ground?

Nell: He doesn’t need sandwiches to do that.

Me: It’s not always about need though, is it? You don’t actually need your handbag.

Nell: Where would I put my reading glasses and my iBone?

Me: True. Sorry.

Me: I don’t think anyone has more fun on a walk than Harriet.

Nell: She certainly throws herself into things.

Me: One minute she’s in the river and the next she’s sliding along the grass, legs akimbo, with a big smile on her face.

Nell: It’s not very ladylike.

Me: It’s sheer joy and I love it.

Nell: I sometimes wonder if she really is a pedigree Labrador. She has definite llama moments.

Me: She does. Bless her. Wasn’t Wimbledon exciting yesterday?

Nell: Yes. I’m exhausted already and we’ve a week to go.

Me: I remember when I was at school if exams were over we would be allowed to watch Wimbledon some afternoons.

Nell: What a treat.

Me: Yes. I was listening to the children waiting for the school bus this morning and I could hear the excitement in their voices. Only a few weeks to go before the summer holidays.

Nell: Talking of the bus stop, the beret-wearing bespectacled Beefy is back.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: And this time he’s with a veiled corgi.

Me: A veiled corgi?

Nell: Yes. In a lace collar.

Me: A lace collar?

Nell: You’re doing that repeating thing again.

Me: Who wears a lace collar?

Nell: A veiled corgi. I just told you that.

Me: No, I mean you can’t attach a lead to it.

Nell: It’s not that kind of collar. It’s a fashion statement.

Me: Oh, I see. Didn’t you say the Royal Corgis sometimes wore lace collars?

Nell: Only the unpleasantly arrogant ones.

Me: Exactly. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Nell: I don’t know. What are you thinking?

Me: Could it be Lady Anwen? What dastardly despicable deed is she planning now?

Nell: Lady Anwen would never travel by bus.

Me: She didn’t get on the bus. Sorry.

Nell: Nigel’s taken your chair again.

Me: Where? It’s ever so big, Nell. It’s a two-seater.

Nell: Very funny. He was in Kev’s chair first and then he moved into yours.

Me: I don’t mind as long as he moves when I need it.

Nell: David minds. He sits in that chair.

Me: Dave sits in the chair with me.

Nell: After his huge success at the village fete yesterday I feel David deserves the chair.

Me: Stop fussing. I’ll be watching Wimbledon in it later.

Nell: Nigel had better get out of it now.

Me: Why are you so bothered?

Nell: I’d prefer not to say.

Me: Come on.

Nell: I used to be able to sit in any chair I wanted.

Me: You still can.

Nell: No, I can’t get up there anymore. My legs won’t hold me.

Me: Kev can lift you up. He’s done it before.

Nell: No. I’ll stay here in the dog bed.

Me: Would you like me to get into the dog bed with you? We could watch Wimbledon from there?

Nell: If you get down on the floor you’ll never get up again.

Me: You have a point there.

Nell: Sunday Songs is a true village celebration today.

Me: Will Dave and the Big Cat Vibe be singing.

Nell: I think they’ve sung enough.

Me: What about the Beefy Choir?

Nell: The Welsh Corgi Choir will more than suffice.

Me: I’m looking forward to a home cooked roast dinner later.

Nell: And I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.

Me: How does an afternoon of strawberries and Wimbledon sound?

Nell: Perfect.

Me: Good. Kev will lift you onto my chair so we can watch together.

Nell: It’s where David sits.

Me: Not today. You and me. Always. Remember?

Nell: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Well, when I came downstairs I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of this uproar.

Nell: It’s Saturday. We’re playing Shenanigans.

Me: You‘re a bunch of hooligans.

Nell: We’re having fun.

Me: Yes, and I’m delighted to see you joining in.

Nell: We oldies still know how to have fun.

Me: I can see that. You seem to be the ringleader.

Nell: Bacon sandwiches can do that to you.

Me: What? Turn you into a hooligan?

Nell: No. Give you a certain boost. I’m ready to take on the world today.

Me: I’d better have one.

Nell: I don’t think there are any left. We had a lot of mouths to feed this morning.

Me: Why?

Nell: It’s the village fete today. Everyone needs to keep their strength up. Did you deliver your signed book for the raffle?

Me: Yes, but I felt someone was watching me. Do you think we’re still being spied on?

Nell: I saw a large Beefy at the bus stop in dark sunglasses and a beret.

Me: Maybe it was waiting for a bus?

Nell: The bus had just gone.

Me: How frustrating. It’s going to have to wait an awfully long time for the next one.

Nell: Didn’t you hear what I just said?

Me: Sunglasses are sensible in summer and you’re always telling me to wear a hat.

Nell: It’s cloudy and rainy today.

Me: Maybe it’s an optimistic Beefy?

Nell: I give up.

Me: Oh, do you think there are surveillance woodlice on its hat?

Nell: Sherlock Martin strikes again. Although, Henry and Horst don’t think the Beefy surveillance team are woodlice.

Me: What are they?

Nell: Sea Slaters or Beach Beetles.

Me: I’ve never heard of them.

Nell: Of course you haven’t. That’s the point.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: Tell me.

Nell: Someone has been secretly filming us.

Me: I don’t believe it.

Nell: Told you.

Me: How do you know?

Nell: Look at these photos.

Me: It’s us.

Nell: I know it’s us.

Me: You and me.

Nell: Yes, I know what ‘us’ means.

Me: Having a conversation.

Nell: As we do.

Me: Yes.

Nell: On our own.

Me: Yes.

Nell: Except we weren’t.

Me: Yes, we were. You can see we’re talking. Well, I’m talking. You’re looking around.

Nell: We weren’t on our own.

Me: Oh, I see.

Nell: Someone was obviously watching us. We’re under surveillance.

Me: How do you know?

Nell: They sent me the photos on WoofsApp.

Me: I can’t remember what we were talking about but I don’t think they were government secrets.

Nell: Why on earth would we be discussing government secrets?

Me: But why is someone spying on us?

Nell: And why do they want us to know?

Me: Maybe we know something we don’t know we know.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: Were we wearing hats?

Nell: No, look at the photos. Why?

Me: We might have been bugged.

Nell: Henry and Horst work for Sally. Remember?

Me: They’re probably not the only undercover woodlice in the business. Not something I thought I would ever say.

Nell: True.

Me: Check your collar.

Nell: We’re at home. I’m not wearing a collar.

Me: Check your fur. Anything could be hiding in there.

Nell: I’m going to need a cup of Earl Grey and a slice of hot buttered toast before I check anything and David’s waiting to discuss his playlist for tomorrow’s village fete.

Me: Maybe they want to know our playlist?

Nell: We don’t have one. We’re not singing.

Me: Oh yes. Sorry.

Me: You made one of your funny faces when we were out on our walk.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: You sort of tucked your lip in and gave me a disapproving look. I love it.

Nell: You love it?

Me: I love all your faces, Nell. Even the disapproving ones. Especially the disapproving ones, to be honest.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: It was good to see you smiling, though.

Nell: It was an extremely enjoyable walk.

Me: Dave and Harriet had a wonderful time splashing around in the river, didn’t they?

Nell: It’s the best place for them in this weather.

Me: Gladys is thinking of bringing the llamas down there for a river glide.

Nell: Now that is most definitely not a good idea.

Me: Why not? The llamas would have a wonderful time.

Nell: Nobody wants to go for a stroll in a local beauty spot to find the river full of dancing llamas.

Me: I think people would love it.

Nell: One expects the odd mallard, or a well behaved dog, but an overexcited llama is too much.

Me: Well, I disagree. The river is for everyone.

Nell: Gladys and the Llamas have been asked to perform at the village fete, by the way.

Me: Oh good. The children love them.

Nell: They’re going to be line dancing so bring your cowboy hat.

Me: I’m not sure if line dancing is for me but I’m willing to give it a go.

Nell: Rupert has agreed to help Gladys with the organisation. He’s a keen line dancer.

Me: I can imagine.

Nell: So are Henry and Horst.

Me: But they’re woodlice, Nell. Anyone could step on them.

Nell: The insects have their own line well away from the crowd. Do keep up.

Me: Of course. Sorry.

Me: I’m worried about my darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Has David said something?

Me: No. But he’s looking at me in a certain sort of way. Do you think he’s still struggling with the heat?

Nell: You have seagulls in your bedroom and bathroom.

Me: Not real ones.

Nell: It’s extremely concerning.

Me: The one in the bedroom was a present and the two in the bathroom came with us from the old house.

Nell: They flew here, did they?

Me: No. We packed them.

Nell: Thought so.

Me: The thing is, Nell, seagulls are part of my childhood. I grew up listening to them and I missed that sound during the years I lived far away from the sea.

Nell: How on earth could anyone miss that screeching?

Me: It’s the sound of home. If you’d grown up by the sea you would understand.

Nell: I was born on a stud farm in Oxfordshire. I don’t need horses in my bedroom.

Me: I like my seagulls.

Nell: The Beefies will see it as a sign of support.

Me: I don’t support bad seagulls. Just the good ones. And the Beefies aren’t coming into my bedroom.

Nell: They see everything. Nosey hooligans. Always poking their beaks into other people’s business.

Me: What have they done now?

Nell: You know David and his band are performing at the village fete this Saturday?

Me: Yes.

Nell: Well, Stephen Seagull and the Beefy Choir are singing too.

Me: Not at the same time?

Nell: Of course not. What do you think this is? Glastonbury?

Me: Just asking. Dave doesn’t need to worry about the Beefies. Nobody’s going to prefer them to him.

Nell: You like the sound of seagulls.

Me: Don’t start all that again.

Nell: Just saying.

Me: Yes. Sorry.