“I’d help if I could, Nick,” said Bernadette.
“I know you would,” he replied, “but you do enough around here as it is. It’s OK, you don’t need to worry about it; I’ll think of something.”
Nick looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall: 12:35. It was nearly lunchtime. His clients would be coming along soon. The sandwiches were all stored in the six refrigerators, ready to be distributed, the vat of onion soup was simmering on the hob, and his five volunteers were sat outside, waiting for the clients to surface. It was nearly showtime.
Smelling the home-made onion soup, Nick walked over to the pot and took the lid off. He looked inside and saw it bubbling away. It smelt delicious.
“Hi, Nick,” came a delightful voice. “I’ve come to introduce you to my sister, Georgie.”
Placing the lid b
