23....

Continued......

Dora and Lillian were having Sunday lunch at their cousin Andrew's restaurant. As always (more out of fear than affection) he had given them the best table, overlooking the Water of Leith.

'Ladies,' said Andrew, 'still or sparkling?' He hovered beside the sisters, a bottle of water in each hand.

'Flat please,' said Dora, 'but with a hint of fizz. And not too cold.'

'But not tepid either,' added Lillian, 'something middleish.'

'And a bottle of white, I think.' said Dora, scowling at the wine list. 'But not Spanish. Or Italian. And definitely not New World. Why is there no Hungarian?' She snapped the wine menu shut. 'It's very disappointing. I was in the mood for a lovely dry tokaji. I suppose we'll have to settle for a white Burgundy.'

Andrew briefly wondered if he could get away with pouring the contents of the wine cooler over her head, and pretending it was a surprise ice bucket challenge....

'You seem a bit out of sorts.' he said to Dora. 'Is everything ok?'

'Dreadful Jamie is staying with Marta.' She studied the menu intently. 'No scallops today? No clams?' She shook her head sadly. 'Anyway, she claims it's because he's recovering from an operation, but I've seen him driving that awful car of his. And parking it outside the dog groomer's in Morningside.' She tapped the menu with a scarlet talon. 'Smoked haddock perhaps?' She was undecided. 'I really want to tell her, but I hate to interfere.'

Andrew snorted, muttering something under his breath, and the sisters looked up at him, like a couple of bespectacled snapping turtles discovering a slug in their salad. 'Did you just say something?' asked Dora, frowning.

'I said, um....pollocks! I said the pollock's good today....'