[ShortNCuddlyAm]

Chapter six, lovingly cooked in a secret cellar...

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Sometime later, in a bedroom with wall paintings dating back to Tudor times, Hugo lounged on a bed. Lefty was draped mostly across the arm of a chair, in a position that looked mostly uncomfortable but which he maintained helped stretch him out to his full length.

“So” Hugo said, “a training exercise. I’m sick and tired of training exercises. I want to see some action again.”

“Hugo,” said Lefty, “we’re in a sleepy Sussex sillage, errr, village. We aren’t going to see any action.” Unlike Hugo, Lefty sounded quite pleased at this.

“We may as well have stayed in Paris for all the good this jaunt is going to do us”

“But… I can get some more postcards!” Lefty said, brightening even more.

Outside, the stairs creaked with the weight of someone walking up them. Hugo and Lefty glanced at each other, and fell silent. Footsteps fell in the corridor, pausing briefly outside their door, then carried on. Voices drifted up from outside, a background murmur in which the occasional sentence could be deciphered.

“Aww lookit that squirrel! It’s climbing up the drainpipe!”

Hugo and Lefty exchanged glances. Hugo wriggled his way under the duvet, and Lefty threw himself to the floor and squirmed under the chair. Seconds later, a small, grey furry face peered in through the window, then carried on up the drainpipe to floor above. Minutes passed. Hugo slipped up a little and peered towards the window. Seeing no squirrel, he coughed gently. Lefty pulled himself back up onto the chair, praising the forethought of the person who had completely covered the leg in grippy fabric.

The squirrel, meanwhile, satisfied with her reconnaissance, headed over the rooftops towards the alley. She perched on a roof, out of sight, but perfectly able to hear everything going on.

“You!” Janey exclaimed, mostly sounding pleased.

“Can’t stay for very long - training” He pulled a face. “But while I’m here… any chance of…?”

“I need to get some more underway - wait up here and have a cuppa.”

The squirrel smiled - this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. The woman called Janey had her hair up in a bun, which was sitting on the top of her head, rather than the back. As the man turned his back, the squirrel dropped what looked like a small acorn. Perfectly aimed, it landed in the bun with just enough force to slip slightly under the hair, but gently enough that Janey didn’t feel a thing.

Janey went inside, and went down to the cellar where the famous family recipe was kept. She didn’t need to check it really, not after all this time, but if she didn’t follow the complete ritual, she was never satisfied it tasted as good. Having checked it, she set about preparing the next batch of spotted dick pudding. It was the only dish no-one else was allowed to make, and she had her own kitchen in the cellar especially for cooking it in. Once it was underway, she went back upstairs, and interrupted him mid-flirt with one of the waiters. She was about to say something when he pointed at her hair.

“You’ve got an acorn in your bun!” he exclaimed, and picked out out of her hair and threw it out the door.

The squirrel heaved a sigh of relief. She had been wondering how best to retrieve the acorn, and now some-one had done it for her. She shimmied down a drainpipe, skittered across the alleyway, picked up the acorn, and shot off.

Janey and the man watched. “It almost sounds like it’s laughing!” Janey said