Later, we went over to the Fullers.

Mistress and her friends dug into the nuts and were soon on their second bottle of wine. Archie and I sat each side of Nathan’s leather chair. He had a habit of throwing pistachio shells over his left shoulder. We knew the score, which was to wait a while until the adults were ‘under the influence’ - Archie’s phrase, and then we could have a good crunch behind the sofa.

Archie put a restraining paw on my nose. We had to wait.

“Marek’s an illegal immigrant, I swear it,” said Mistress. “He told me he was here for nine months on a visitor’s visa and that everything was above board.”

Lesley swung her legs sideways as if she was about to get up.

“You got carried away, Julia, that’s what happened. He’s just a Polish artist desperate to get his work shown in a London gallery. Marek decided on a major flirting incentive and you fell for it!”

Julia flung her hair back.

“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I think that’s a rotten thing for you to say. We have a lot in common as it happens, and don’t forget that my great-grand father was Polish.”

Archie yawned. “This conversation is bound to last three or four rounds,” he said. “How are the nuts collecting behind you, son?”

I turned. I could smell the salt and the powder coming off them. All the ingredients that pugs are not allowed. “We’ve got a small mountain of them,” I replied and gave my best smile.

Archie and I put our heads down again. We both understood the virtue of patience.

Will we get our snacks before the fight begins? Follow our trail until next time and find out.