Laurel and HARDY

Hilda passed me a slice of cake. ‘Now the twins are a year old, my daughter’s going back to work. I’ve offered to help until they find a childminder.’ She added sugar to her tea. ‘If it works, I might move there.’

Her news wasn’t a surprise. I already knew about Hilda’s itchy feet. Since losing her husband, she’d moved several times.

Then she hit me with her real bombshell. ‘I need you to look after Laurel and Hardy. Normally I’d ask the pet shop but I don’t know how long I’ll be away.’

To say I wasn’t keen was a bit of an understatement.

I like my animals cute and covered with fur. Hilda found them in a box, abandoned by their owners. Within days she’d transformed a corner of her garden into a tortoise enclosure and taught herself to take care of them.

My dislike hadn’t been a problem before. When they weren’t hibernating, they were confined to their patch of the garden. I could see them, but didn’t have to touch