Stiff Listening

Now what? asks the knowlesi.

Your prayer will be answered, says Terence.

That's up to us, says Saint Méen.

Go on then, says Terence.

Saints Méen and Maclou look at one another.

This involves squatting. 

Creak-crack! go their bones.

A couple of plasters should do it, says Saint Méen, looking closely. 

Plasters! says the knowlesi. Any vet could do that.

Without the praying, says Terence. 

Yes, without the praying, says the knowlesi.

The knowlesi is cross.

More white stuff is oozing out through the split in his belly.

Calm down, knowlesi, says Belle. The saints have promised to fix you.

Does anyone have a plaster? asks Saint Maclou.

Not me, says Saint Méen. I used my last one on a blister.

Nor I, says Saint Maclou. Except for this one, on my finger. 

You can't use that! says Belle. I'll go and look for a chemist.

She goes off to search.

Quiet-tartus is stirring.

What's happening? Are we in heaven?

Ha ha! laughs Terence. We're only in Flamanville.

Yes, Flamanville, says Saint Méen. Lie still, little frog. Your innards are spilling.

Belle's gone to get a plaster, says Terence.

Quiet-tartus looks up at the saints. 

The saints feel a bit guilty.

We could .... says Saint Méen.

But it's best to allow nature... says Saint Maclou.

What's nature about a plaster? asks Quiet-tartus. Take off those beanies and start buzzing! 

The saints don't like being ordered to take off their beanies and buzz up a miracle.

Furthermore Terence is watching. What might he learn if they acquiesce meekly? 

We'll wait, says Saint Méen.

They sit down on the grass, which is better than squatting.

Terence hums to the frogs:

hm hm hm

The frogs listen stiffly.

White Stuff Oozing Out

Arthur has not come back from the chemist at Jullouville.

He'll have gone on ahead, says Jeanne Jugan.

And even if he hasn't, says Pierre-Louis, he said he'd catch up.

He did, says Jeanne Jugan. Let's get going.

They get on their bikes and head up the coast towards Gouville-sur-mer.

Arthur is not far out of Gouville-sur-mer.

They can see him in the distance.

There he is, says Jeanne Jugan.

But Arthur is riding quite fast, having stopped for the apples and then for the toilet.

It's sixty-five ks to Flamanville.

He takes another apple out of his pocket.

....

Belle and the saints have taken a short cut to Flamanville and are already there.

Belle sends a message to Arthur.

At Flamanville. Will wait for you here.

The frogs are in the bottom of Belle's panier velo.

No one has checked on them for ages.

How are the frogs? asks Belle, now.

Dead, says Terence.

I hope not, says Belle. Let's have look at them.

She lifts Terence out, and peers into the depths of the panier.

Quiet-tartus and the knowlesi are in a bad way.

They both have have splits in their skin, with white stuff oozing out of them.

Yerk! says Belle. She lifts them out quickly, and places them on the grass beside Terence.

Uuuurh! says the knowlesi.

Quiet-tartus says nothing.

These frogs look quite poorly, says Saint Méen. 

I know, says Belle. We may not need Arthur.

Are we finished? moans the knowlesi.

Only if you choose to be, says Saint Maclou. We are saints, and can help you.

Hoooow? asks the knowlesi.

Saints, repeats Saint Maclou.

I think he meant How? says Belle.

Of course, says  Saint Maclou. I should have realised. This is how. First you must pray.

Can't we just have a gift? moans the knowlesi. Like you gave to the carrot?

NO! says Terence. Look how badly that went!

Terence is wise, says Saint Méen.

Okay, says the knowlesi. Who to?

Either of us, says Saint Méen. Then we'll see what happens.

Quiet-tartus can't pray, says Terence. He's dead already.

No he isn't, says Belle. Look, his belly is going up and down.

But he can't talk, says Terence.

I'll do it for both of us, says the knowlesi. Will that be okay?

Yes, says Saint Méen. Better get started.

You have to bend over, says Terence.

We'll overlook that requirement, says Saint Méen.

The knowlesi has never prayed for anything in his life.

What is the protocol? 

He doesn't know how, says Terence. I do. Let me do it. 

I suppose that's all right says Saint Méen.

Terence makes a rude finger movement.

Belle frowns. 

Dear Holies, says Terence. I ask for these split-open frogs. Fix our bellies before our insides fall out of our bodies. Over and out.

That was unconventional, says Saint Méen. 

Looks Like Schist

Barfleur looks pretty, says Belle. 

It is one of the Beautiful Villages, says Saint Méen. 

Woop, says Terence. 

Don't scoff, says Belle. Look those nice granite houses, covered with schist.

Terence looks. But it doesn't look much like schist.

There's a  lighthouse, out on the point, says Saint Maclou. 

And a smell of fish, says Belle. 

It's a fishing village, says Saint Maclou. Fish, crustaceans, and open sea mussels.

The Normans left from here, says Saint Maclou. To battle the English.

What are Normans? asks Terence.

Normans, says Saint Méen.

But what are they? asks Terence, persisting. 

Men from Normandy, says Saint Méen. A long time ago. With swords, lances and bows and arrows.

Did they win? asks Terence.

That's enough, says Belle. Let's keep going. 

But did they? asks Terence.

Yes, says Saint Méen. 

Yay! says Terence. Did they have horses?

Probably, says Saint Méen. He imagines they must have. Probably floated them across the Channel on vessels. But he had not in fact seen it.

I had a horse, says Terence. It was called Monty. But I lost it.

It wasn't a real one, says Belle. It was a toy.

But I'm getting a real one, says Terence.

He isn't, says Belle. Just imagine!

When we get to Saint Malo, says Saint Maclou, I'll ask our neighbor Madame Ponty to give you a ride on her pony.

Belle winces. This is not a good idea.

Yay! says Terence. What's a pony?

Explanations ensue.

......

They cycle out of Barfleur, passing the second tallest lighthouse in Europe, manned nowadays by a lobster.

Lace On A Train

Rou-kai turns sadly, and flies east.

He flies over Gouville-sur-mer.

Roo-kai sees Arthur's bike, resting against the wall of a public convenience.

He crosses La Manche, to Barfleur.

Belle will not yet have arrived at Barfleur.

He lands on the sand and starts searching for molluscs.

He gets lucky.

Pick-pick-bubble-crack!

Half an hour later he is perched on a fence post at the roadside.

Here comes Belle now, head down, pedalling. 

Terence is first to spot him.

Roo-kai! cries Terence. 

Belle stops. There you are! Did you see Arthur?

Yes, says Roo-kai. He's stopped for a comfort stop at Gouville. Eaten too many apples.

It's not like him to buy apples, says Belle.

By the look of the apples, he didn't buy them, says Roo-kai.

Oh, says Belle. Well, I hope he's on track for Flamanville.

It occurs to me, says Roo-kai, that Arthur may as well have stayed in Saint Malo.

It occurred to us too, says Belle.

But we need Arthur to be in charge of the frogs, says Terence.

Hush, says Belle. 

Because they're illegal, says Terence.

I suppose they are, says Roo-kai. Where are they?

Lying low, says Belle. In the bottom of my panier velo.

So I have to tread around them, says Terence.

Yes, says Belle. That's the other thing.

Why can't the saints take the frogs? asks Roo-kai. Where are they anyway?

The saints can be seen in the distance, pedalling slowly, their heads turning often to look at the sea.

The waves are rearing like dragons, crashing like tiny stones and spreading like lace on a train.

(a bridal train, not a locomotive)

How bracing! they say. Smell the ozone!

But of course, we cannot hear them.

At last they catch up.

Have we missed anything? asks Saint Maclou.

Arthur ate too many apples and got the runs, says Terence.

Terence! says Belle. How do you even know that?

I was listening, says Terence.

I said comfort stop, says Roo-kai.

I know what that means, says Terence.

Parallel Outcomes

Arthur is back on the coast road. 

His stomach is gurgling.

He stops cycling. 

Gurgle-gurr.

It's probably nothing.

He takes another sour apple from his pocket.

And takes a bite, looking out at the sea.

A tiny object floats out there, only just visible, a bird flying above it.

The bird spots Arthur, and turns.

Roo-kai! says Arthur.

Arthur! says Roo-kai. Are you all right, you look pale.

Yes, says Arthur. Just a gurgly stomach. That's why I'm eating an apple.

It looks like a sour apple, says Roo-kai. Are you sure that's wise?

Either it is or it isn't, says Arthur. I win either way.

Poets! says Roo-kai.

Why aren't you with Terence and Belle? asks Arthur.

I come and go, says Roo-kai. At the moment I'm keeping an eye on the carrot. It's a lost cause, but I can't let it go.

What carrot? asks Arthur. 

Belle's carrot, says Roo-kai. To be precise, a half carrot. But who knows what state it's in now.

Why didn't she eat it? asks Arthur.

It spoke, says Roo-kai. At first it could only say carrot. Then the saints gave it the true gift of speech. Then they took it away. But before that, it uttered its wishes. 

What were its wishes? asks Arthur, looking at his sour apple, with one bite out.

To be returned to the river, says Roo-kai. It had spent time there, enjoying its independence. 

But now it's in the sea, says Arthur.

Sadly yes, says Roo-kai. And entombed in a box. Not quite what it wished for.

Arthur eats the rest of his apple.

Did it too have wishes? And now it's entombed in his stomach. Or at least on its way? 

Gurgle-gurr.

Better get going, says Arthur. I might need a toilet. 

You're not far from Gouville-sur-mer, says Roo-kai.

Good, says Arthur. 

He pedals away in a hurry, towards Gouville-sur-mer.

Roo-kai flies back out to sea. 

And continues to observe the tomb of the hapless half carrot.

Is the box holding up? No it isn't.

The cardboard lid is not sitting right. The sides of the box are collapsing.

Is this what the carrot would have wanted?

Either it is or it isn't.

It will be lost either way.

The Marvellous Apple

Arthur hasn't come back from the chemist.

And there's a good reason for that.

He is cycling along the coast road without his companions.

The blood on his knees has dried up.

He feels like eating an apple.

But there are no apple trees along the coast road.

Perhaps he should head inland. 

He sees a sign to Bouillon.

Arthur does not know it but the steeple of the church of Bouillon boasts a famous apple tree.

It seems that many years ago a seed got mixed up in the mortar.

And was awakened (as seeds often are) by a hint of moisture.

Merveilleusement, the seed grew into an apple tree, which every year produces sour apples, which fall from the steeple.

Also nearby is the stone of the devil.

And the valley of painters through which flows the river Crapeux.

Here one may come across nymphs, washing their garments.

Catch their eye, and a rocky death may await you.

But we must not forget that Arthur lives a charmed life.

He sees the church with the apple tree on the steeple.

Apples lie underneath, on the ground.

Arthur stops and picks up a few, stuffing them into his pockets. Then he chooses one without bruises, to start with.

Chomp.

It's sour, but Arthur likes sour.

He is eating his apple when his phone rings.

It's Belle.

Arthur, where are you?

Bouillon, says Arthur.

Is that on the coast road? asks Belle.

A bit off it, says Arthur.

How are we supposed to meet up if your're a bit off it? says Belle.

I'm going back on it, says Arthur. Where are you now?

Grandcamp-Maisy, says Belle. We've just passed through it.

Okay, says Arthur. Where's half way between there and here?

How should I know? says Belle. Wait, I'll ask Saint Maclou.

Arthur hears saintly voices.

Gouville-sur-mer.

No Maclou, I take issue.

Where then?

Flamanville.

Is he alone?

Are you alone? asks Belle.

I am now, says Arthur.

He's alone, says Belle.

Then Flamanville it is.

Flamanville, says Belle. We'll meet there and transfer the frogs. What's that noise? Are you eating something? 

Apple, says Arthur.

Good for you, says Belle. Apples are healthy.

Maybe, says Arthur. 

But his stomach is telling him otherwise.

Irritations And More

They have now reached Jullouville.

Look back, says Jeanne Jugan. There's a view of Mont Saint Michel bay.

Sure enough, there is a view of it. 

Are we in a hurry? asks Jeanne Jugan. 

Not at all, says Pierre-Louis. Shall we stop for a break?

Why not? says Jeanne Jugan. 

Arthur wants to keep going. 

But not with them. 

Okay, says Arthur. You go down to the beach while I find a chemist.

For plasters? says Jeanne Jugan. No need, I have some.

What about ointment? says Arthur.

Let me see, says Jeanne Jugan. Yes, I have some creme pour irritations de la peau. It contains herbal ingredients.

What's its use-by date? asks Arthur.

She looks. Oh dear. Two thousand and seven.

Normally Arthur would not care that a creme pour irritations was due to expire in two thousand and seven. He would not use it, in any case.

But he appears to care today.

I'll see you later, says Arthur. If you get bored, go on without me. I'll catch up.

He heads off in the direction of a row of small shops.

He seems keen to have fresh creme, says Jeanne Jugan.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. How can creme pour irritations go off?

Would you like to find out? asks Jeanne Jugan.

No, .....oh.....why not? says Pierre-Louis.

They wheel their bicycles down to la plage.

They sit on the white sand.

In the water, people are kite surfing, skimboarding, funboarding, swimming and sailing

Jeanne Jugan gets her creme out.

Pierre-Louis extends his right knee.

She rubs some creme on.

It turns red, but that is quite natural.

He takes out an old fashioned handkerchief, and wipes the red creme off.

Start again, says Pierre-Louis.

She rubs some more creme on, and puts on a plaster.

Now the other knee.

They lie back, enjoying the sun.

Why are you travelling with Arthur to pick up some frogs? asks Jeanne Jugan.

It is not for the frogs, says Pierre-Louis. It's to meet Belle, Vello's daughter.

For noble reasons, I hope, says Jeanne Jugan.

Certainly, says Pierre-Louis. I merely wish to learn more about what Vello is doing. 

Careful what you wish for, says Jeanne Jugan. What if you learn that he is a highly sought-after speaker on the international circuit?

What? says Pierre-Louis. If he is, I think I would know it!

Just an example, says Jeann Jugan. He probably isn't.

What about you? asks Pierre-Louis. 

I remember Belle, says Jeanne Jugan. And she is travelling with Terence. I should like to meet Terence and see how he is progressing.

The baby Jesus look-alike? says Pierre-Louis.

Yes, says Jeanne Jugan. I last met him five years ago. He'll be more mature now.

Right, says Pierre-Louis. But isn't he a statue?

Even then, he was learning to map-read, says Jeanne Jugan.

(It's possible she remembers it wrong).

Roll The Peppermints

My eyes roll like peppermints, says Pierre Louis.

Keep going, says Arthur.

Yes I must keep going, says Pierre Louis. What rhymes with peppermints?

I'm not helping you, says Arthur. Find your own rhymes.

I'm quite proud of that line, though, says Pierre-Louis. It came from my heart.

Via your knees says Arthur. I suppose it's not bad.

Faint praise, says Pierre Louis. Is Jeanne Jugan any closer?

Arthur looks over his shoulder.

A black figure is approaching, with two bright yellow eyes.

More like a demon, says Arthur.

That's her, says Pierre-Louis. Does she have yellow eyes?

Yes, says Arthur. She didn't have yellow eyes in her kitchen.

It's her bicycle helmet, says Pierre-Louis. It's painted with two yellow eyes.

The yellow eyes get closer. 

Jeanne Jugan catches up.

I've been following trails of blood, says Jeanne Jugan. Whose is it?

Ours, says Pierre-Louis. We both rode into prickle bushes.

I wish I'd seen that, says Jeanne Jugan. I suppose you want ointment and plasters.

No, says Pierre-Louis. Arthur is teaching me to extract poetry from painful emotions. Listen to this: My eyes roll like peppermints.

Let me see, says Jeanne Jugan. If your eyes are rolling like peppermints, that means something is wrong. You may have concussion.

Pierre-Louis looks at her sideways.

His eyes are not rolling like peppermints. 

So it was just an expression, says Jeanne Jugan. 

A sincere one, says Pierre-Louis. Now I search for a rhyme.

A rhyme with peppermints, says Jeanne Jugan. Is your poem supposed to be funny?

No! snaps Pierre-Louis.

Then I suggest you bury your peppermints somewhere mid-line, says Jeanne Jugan Try a rhyme with roll, or one of the other words.

If he must have a rhyme, says Arthur.

True, says Jeanne Jugan. A rhyme is not necessary.

But Pierre-Louis is determined to come up with something original, but not funny, while retaining the peppermints, and a rhyme.

He is quiet. Then comes inspiration:

With the sharpness of peppermints roll my eyes

From my knees to the merciless skies.

He is pleased. 

Who needs a rhyme for peppermints, when one can come up with poetry like that?

Pain On A Train

Arthur is riding fast for a person whose head is still spinning.

The cliffs rear up beside him.

The sea hisses through menacing white teeth. 

The sky teeters vertiginously.

A rock! He avoids it. No flies on him.

But in doing so he skids off the narrow cliff path and into a prickle bush.

Merde! Now both his knees are bleeding.

He gets back on the road. 

But he has lost time.

Pierre-Louis can be seen in the distance behind him.

Arthur keeps going, but Pierre-Louis catches up.

You're bleeding! says Pierre-Louis. Did you come a cropper?

Yes, says Arthur. Avoiding a rock.

Slow down, says Pierre-Louis. Jeanne Jugan is attempting to join us. And no doubt, she'll have ointment and plasters.

Don't need them, says Arthur. I'm used to knees bleeding. I always have scabs.

So I noticed, says Pierre-Louis. Is it something to do with being a poet?

Could be, says Arthur. 

I wonder if I would be any good as a poet? says Pierre-Louis.

If you wonder, you probably wouldn't, says Arthur.

Now I don't believe that, says Pierre-Louis. Let me try. It will give us a rhythm.

Okay, says Arthur. 

Any advice about starting? asks Pierre-Louis.

Close your eyes, says Arthur. 

That does not sound like sensible advice for a man on a bike, says  Pierre-Louis.

Momentarily, says Arthur. 

All right, says Pierre-Louis. You're the expert.

He closes his eyes momentarily.

And swerves off the road into a prickle bush.

 Curses, says Pierre-Louis. Now MY knees are bleeding!

Good, says Arthur. Let your emotions come out.

Pierre-Louis is not in the mood now, but he feels obliged, having asked for a lesson.

I commence, says Pierre-Louis, commencing: 

In unbearable pain I look back

Had I not asked for advice

Had I not followed 

Had I not closed my eyes and tumbled into a prickle bush

Had I stayed

Had I not spoken to a young man on the train.

I would have avoided this torment of pain.

He stops reciting.

What do you think?

I don't much like that rhyme at the end, says Arthur. 

What about it? asks Pierre-Louis. And it wasn't the end.

It wasn't? 

Arthur might have guessed it.

Two Yellow Eyes

Jeanne Jugan opens the three bottles of Trappist beer.

She gives one to Arthur.

Try this. Stop! Wipe the top first.

Too late. Arthur has a mouthful of spiderwebs and dust.

The beer isn't bad though.

And it gets better.

That hits the spot, Jeanne, says Pierre-Louis.

I know, says Jeanne Jugan. The old folks used to like it.

Used to? says Pierre-Louis. Have they all died?

I suppose so, says Jeanne Jugan. But of course there will always be new ones.

So you've retired, says Pierre-Louis.

From being a saint, yes, says Jeanne Jugan.

She was a good saint, says Pierre-Louis. She founded the Little Sisters of the Poor.

Hu! says Arthur. 

He has finished the beer.

Have some of mine, says Jeanne Jugan. I'll never finish it.

Thanks, says Arthur. Then I'd better be going.

Wait for me, says Pierre-Louis. I haven't mended my tyre.

Arthur swigs down the rest of the beer that Jeanne Jugan can't finish.

Hu! Hu! 

It's not quite a hiccup. But it's close. And he's feeling light headed.

Have some more cheese before you go, says Jeanne Jugan.

No thanks, says Arthur. I'll get some fresh air outside.

He goes out through the back door. Grabs his bicycle, wheels it to the road at the front of the cottage, and heads off towards ...anywhere. 

The sea is on his left, the road is below him, the sky turns above him in circles.

Is he going the right way? Has to be.

Back in Jeanne Jugan's kitchen, Pierre-Louis has found the site of his puncture.

So you and Arthur will be travelling together, says Jeanne Jugan.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. Ah! Is this a glueless patch that you've given me?

It is, says Jeanne Jugan.

He sticks it straight on.

Done, says Pierre-Louis. I'll just pump the tyre up again and then Arthur and I will be going.

I wonder... begins Jeanne Jugan. But Pierre- Louis has gone through the front  door.

After a couple of minutes he returns to the kitchen.

Is Arthur in here?  

No, says Jeanne Jugan. He's out the back, remember?

No, he isn't, says Pierre-Louis.

Then he must have left already, says Jeanne Jugan. Dear me, he was in no fit state to go on the road.

Fear not, Jeanne, says Pierre-Louis. I'll catch up to him.

I'm coming with you! says Jeanne Jugan. Just give me a minute.

She runs to her bedroom and changes into her cycling clothes. Black pedal pushers, a loose black  t-shirt, and a black cycling helmet with two yellow eyes.

She fetches her bicycle, brushes the webs  from the seat, and pedals off down the road after Pierre-Louis.

Naturally, he has not waited.

Trappist Traps

Pierre-Louis Malpertuis is surprised to see Arthur in Jeanne Jugan's kitchen, regarding a cheese.

Lucky I had a flat tyre, says Pierre-Louis Maupertuis. I'd have missed you.

So you're the stalker! says Jeanne.

Not at all! says Pierre-Louis. Arthur and I planned to ride along the coast road together.

Didn't sound like it, says Jeanne. Why are you so far behind him?

My bicycle has seen better days, says Pierre-Louis. Where's that repair kit?

Jeanne Jugan heads out to her shed.

What kind of cheese is that? asks Pierre-Louis.

I don't know, says Arthur. She just took it down.

With any luck it's a Timanoix, says Pierre-Louis. Made by Trappist monks at Bréhan. I'll cut it open.

He takes the knife which Jeanne Jugan used to cut the cheese down.

He stabs it into the Timanoix ( if it is one), and cuts two generous slices.

An aroma both earthy and leathery, with notes of walnut, fills the room.

Yes! says Pierre-Louis. It is one! Here, try it.

Arthur would have preferred a bag of potato crisps, or some chocolate. Or even an apple. He bites into the cheese.

Jeanne returns to the kitchen.

I see you've helped yourselves, says Jeanne. What do you think of it, Arthur?

Arthur is not big on cheese.

Very cheesy, says Arthur.

I thought you were a poet? says Pierre-Louis. Can't you do better?

Spicy, says Arthur. Herbaceous. Bitter.

Well done, says Jeanne Jugan.  That's just what it tastes like.

It'd go well with a beer, says Arthur.

Trappist beer, says Pierre-Louis. 

I don't have any, says Jeanne Jugan.

What a pity, says Pierre-Louis. I do have some, back at home in Saint Malo.

Fat lot of use that is, says Jeanne Jugan. Wait a minute, I might have a few old ones, in the back of the shed.

She leaves the repair kit on the table and goes out again.

She'll find some, don't you worry, says Pierre-Louis. Best beer ever made. And it improves with age.

Jeanne Jugan returns with three bottles, covered in spider webs and dust.

Trappist beer. Warm and dusty.

Arthur is not keen to try it.

Opening Cheese

She lives in a crumbling old cottage on a clifftop.

Arthur stops there.

Jeanne Jugan is out in the garden.

Arthur gets off his bike, and wheels it towards her front fence.

Hello, remember me? says Arthur.

No! says Jeanne Jugan. Have I met you before?

Yes, says Arthur. A few years ago. You helped us to rescue Saint Roley.

Her eyes fill with tears.

Dear Saint Roley. Where is he now?

Somewhere out there, says Arthur. 

Come in, says Jeanne Jugan. 

Thanks, says Arthur. 

It's not often I get a visit from a young person, says Jeanne Jugan. Would you like a snack?

Yes, says Arthur. Can I leave my bike round the back?

Why? No one will steal it, says Jeanne Jugan. 

Someone's following me, says Arthur. 

How thrilling, says Jeanne Jugan. Come in. We'll use the back door.

Her kitchen is hung with onions and cheeses.

Arthur hopes she has other snacks than these.

Sit down dear. Arthur, isn't it? I do remember you now. And there was an infant, Terence, who looked like the baby Jesus and his friend Baldy who looked like the baby Jesus as well. And Saint Roley of course. Was it you who taught him to fly?

Yes, says Arthur. Kind of.

Ah yes, says Jeanne Jugan. After the first time went wrong.

She cuts down a cheese.

And that lovely girl, Belle, says Jeanne Jugan. Do you still see her?

I'm meeting her later, says Arthur.

How romantic, says Jeanne.

She's not my girlfriend, says Arthur. She's just bringing some frogs.

There is a knock on the front door.

Who can that be? says Jeanne Jugan.

She opens the door. 

Pierre-Louis Maupertuis stands there, with his bicycle.

Flat tyre, says Pierre-Louis. Hello, Jeanne. Got a repair kit?

Come in Maupi! says Jeanne Jugan. Come and meet Arthur. We're opening a cheese.

Wrong Country

They part, at the station.

Pierre-Louis goes home to resurrect his old bicycle.

Arthur sets off for Cancale.

It's a fine day for cycling. Arthur goes fast. 

He'll meet up with Belle all the sooner.

On the other hand.....he'll be further away.

It all depends what the plan was.

Did anyone say?

He slows down and calls Sweezus.

What's up bro? asks Sweezus. You there yet?

Cycling along the coast road, says Arthur. 

Which way? asks Sweezus.

Towards Le Havre, says Arthur. I haven't met Belle yet.

Yeah, cool, says Sweezus. So what's the problem?

What do I do with the frogs when I get them? asks Arthur.

Dunno, says Sweezus. Wait, yeah I do. You bring them back home. Gaius wants them.

Okay, says Arthur. So what was the hurry?

No idea, says Sweezus. But they're in the wrong country. I guess they might die.

Merde! says Arthur. 

Rather you than me, bro, says Sweezus. 

Okay, says Arthur. But maybe I don't need to hurry. 

Mate, you don't need to hurry, says Sweezus. 

Except for one thing, says Arthur. There's this guy I met on the train. 

Yeah? 

Malpertuis. An enemy of Vello.

Never heard of him.

Wears a Lapland type hat.

Nup. Never.

He wants to catch up with me. 

Where are you now?

Cancale.

And you don't want him to catch up with you, but you don't want to hurry.

That's it.

Plan. Go and visit that whatsername nun lady. Lapland hat guy'll cycle right past you.

What nun lady?

You remember.

No.

Jeanne someone. Jeanne Jugan.

Yes, I remember her now. 

So go on. You can wait at her place for Belle, get the frogs and catch the train back to Paris, then fly home from there. Hey, gotta go, buddy, my flight's boarding.

Thanks, bro, says Arthur.

Arthur heads for Jeanne Jugan's.

It's not like Sweezus to come up with a sensible plan. 

The Frivolous Scribbler

That donkey was the reason I was captured, says Pierre-Louis Maupertuis.

Was it? says Arthur.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. I had been invited to visit the court of Frederick the Great. Frederick was pleased when I offered to join him in battle. However, he failed to provide me with a horse. So I was obliged to purchase a donkey, for two ducats.

That seems cheap, says Arthur.

Too cheap, says Pierre-Louis. The donkey couldn't keep up. I got lost and wandered about the countryside on my own for two days, until I was captured by Austrians.

So you missed out on the battle, says Arthur. 

Yes. And worse, I was laughed at by my enemies in Paris, says Pierre-Louis.

You had enemies? asks Arthur.

What famous person hasn't? says Pierre-Louis. I'm thinking of someone in particular, who was beside himself with glee.

How do you know? asks Arthur.

He was a frivolous scribbler, says Pierre-Louis. Famous himself at the time. 

What about now? asks Arthur.

Still scribbling, says Pierre-Louis. Runs an online cycling magazine. Interviews with cycling philosophers. Can you believe it?

I can, says Arthur. He's my best friend's boss.

You don't say? says Pierre-Louis. Do you see much of him?

We rode in the Tour De France this year, says Arthur. Different teams though.

Pierre-Louis looks sour.

The train arrives in Saint Malo.

Where are you staying? asks Pierre-Louis.

Nowhere, says Arthur. I'm setting off straight away to meet Belle.

Belle? says Pierre-Louis. 

The frivolous scribbler's adopted daughter, says Arthur.

Oh? What is she like? asks Pierre-Louis. Up herself I suppose.

No, says Arthur. She's nothing like Vello.

She's the one with the frogs? asks Pierre-Louis.

Yes, she cycled to Le Havre from Paris with them, says Arthur. Now she's on her way to Saint Malo.

I'll give you my address, says Pierre-Louis. Ask her to pay me a visit.

Okay, says Arthur. But she probably won't want to.

I quite understand that, says Pierre-Louis, but I would like to meet her. Perhaps I'll get out my old bicycle and join you. How would that be?

I'm not waiting, says Arthur.

Never mind. I'll catch up, says Pierre-Louis. 

It seems he is hard to get rid of.

Principle Of Least Action

Arthur has one eye on the tatty paper, and one on the fallen ticket.

Well? asks Pierre-Louis Maupertuis.

They do look like runes, says Arthur. 

They do, says Pierre-Louis. I spent years trying to decipher them.

But you couldn't, says Arthur.

No I couldn't, says Pierre-Louis. 

Because they weren't runes, says Arthur.

Exactly, says Pierre-Louis. Waste of time. But I did other things as well. For example, I invented the principle of least action.

Impressive, says Arthur. I use that a lot.

He leans forward, pretending to scratch his left knee. At the same time he picks up Pierre-Louis' fallen ticket.

It's a mathematical concept, says Pierre-Louis, not an excuse.

Mm, says Arthur.

A ticket inspector is approaching, checking everyone's tickets.

Pierre-Louis looks up.

Pierre-Louis! says the ticket inspector. Heading home to Saint Malo?

I am, says Pierre-Louis. 

The ticket inspector looks at Arthur. 

Do you know you're sitting beside one of Saint Malo's most famous sons? asks the ticket inspector.

I'm learning, says Arthur. He's been explaining the principle of least action.

But did you know he took part in the battle of Mollwitz on a donkey? says ticket inspector.

No, says Arthur. 

Long story, says Pierre-Louis. I was subsequently taken prisoner by the Austrians.

And released, says the ticket inspector. He later returned to Berlin and became president of the Royal Prussian Academy of Sciences.

Pierre-Louis is beaming. remembering his donkey.

Well, best be getting on, says the ticket inspector.

Don't you want to see my ticket? asks Pierre-Louis.

Not at all! says the ticket inspector. I'm sure you must have one.

Very kind, says Pierre-Louis, who had been starting to feel in his pocket.

Arthur flashes the ticket he holds in his hand.

Enjoy the rest of your journey, says the ticket inspector, moving on.

Excellent fellow, says Pierre-Louis. Would you like to hear more of my donkey?

Arthur would not, but supposes he'll have to. 

A Victory For Me

Paris. Gare de l'Est.

Sweezus has loaned Arthur twenty four euros for the train.

Arthur has boarded the train, with his bike, but has not bought a ticket.

He finds an empty seat next to a round-faced man in a fur hat, and sits down.

The train departs for Saint Malo.

Going through to Saint Malo? asks the man. 

Yes, says Arthur. 

So am I, says the man. 

That's an unusual hat, says Arthur. With the nap of the fur on both sides meeting on top in the middle.

That's a good way of putting it, says the man.

I'm a poet, says Arthur.

So I see, says the man. As for me, I'm a mathematician, philosopher and natural historian.

Which doesn't explain the hat, says Arthur.

True, it doesn't, says the man. I got it in Lapland. It's reindeer fur.

Lapland, says Arthur. Why did you go there?

To make a series of observations, says the man. Proving the earth was oblate.

And was it? says Arthur.

Yes it was, says the man. A victory for me. But have you heard of the Kaymajarvi inscriptions?

No, says Arthur.

Good, says the man. I'm Pierre-Louis Maupertuis, by the way.

Arthur Rimbaud, says Arthur. 

May I ask why you're travelling to Saint Malo? asks Pierre-Louis Maupertuis.

Picking up a couple of frogs for a friend, says Arthur. You might know of him. Gaius Plinius Secundus.

I do! says Pierre-Louis. Who has not heard of Gaius Plinius Secundus? So he is your friend?

Yes, says Arthur.

And these frogs ? Are they frogs of Saint Malo?

No, says Arthur. They're frogs of northern New South Wales and southern Queensland.

Alors! What are they doing in Saint Malo? asks Pierre-Louis. 

They're not in Saint Malo, says Arthur. They're on their way from Le Havre by bicycle. I'm going to meet them half way.

By bicycle? says Pierre-Louis. That conjures up an amusing image. 

Not too far from the truth, says Arthur. 

Ah, the truth! sighs Pierre-Louis. You seem empathetic. And so, I would like to tell you what happened when I was in Sweden.

Okay, says Arthur.

I discovered mysterious runic marks on some stones near Lake Kaymajarvi, says Pierre-Louis. I copied them down. For nearly three hundred years it was believed that the marks were man-made. I was proud of my discovery. But in 2018 they were found to have resulted from natural processes.

Not your fault, says Arthur. And it doesn't prove the marks had no meaning.

You think? Would you like to see them? asks Pierre-Louis.

Sure, says Arthur.

Pierre-Louis pulls a tatty piece of paper out of his pocket. 

His train ticket falls out as well.

Honk Honk He Honks

Do you want me to keep an eye on the carrot? asks Roo-kai.

How can you? asks Terence.

Follow the box, says Roo-kai. 

No need, says Belle. I think we've seen the last of the carrot.

I agree, says Saint Méen. Put the carrot behind us.

Yes, says Saint Maclou. Let's enjoy the fine autumn weather as we make our way home. 

Where are we going? asks Quiet-tartus.

To Saint Malo, says Belle. The saints have invited us.

Are there frogs in Saint Malo? asks the knowlesi.

Plenty of frogs, says Saint Méen.

Honk honk! honks Saint Maclou. 

Quiet-tartus and the knowlesi are alarmed. 

If this is the sound of the frogs in Saint Malo, they must be gigantic.

We don't want to go, says Quiet-tartus.

No we don't, says the knowlesi. We want to go home.

Gaius said you should go home, says Belle. But wouldn't you like a short holiday?

No, says the knowlesi. 

I know, says Belle. I'll call Sweezie and Arthur. They'll be going home soon, if they haven't already.

She calls Sweezus. 

Hey, Belle!

Sweezie, are you still in Paris?

Yeah. So's Arthur. But I have to leave soon. 

Like when?

A couple of days.

Great, would you do me a favour and take the frogs back to Gaius? 

What frogs?

You know, the frogs Terence brought over. They crashed in the Tour.

Sure, I remember, says Sweezus. Where are you?

Le Havre, says Belle. But we're about to set off for Saint Malo.

You wanna leave them somewhere? asks Sweezus. 

No! says Belle. Gaius wouldn't like that. How about you take a train to Saint Malo? Bring your bike, and cycle towards Le Havre and when we meet I'll hand the frogs over.

Shit, Belle, says Sweezus. What do you reckon? 

Well, maybe not, says Belle. You don't have all that long.  What about Arthur? I bet he doesn't have to go back to Oz in a couple of days.

Yeah... well... no, he doesn't, says Sweezus. I'll ask him.

Belle hears him asking Arthur, and Arthur grunting non-commitally.

Okay, says Sweezus. He'll do it. It'll get him in good with Gaius.

Perfect, says Belle. Tell Arthur thanks a million.

Sure, says Sweezus. Is Terence with you?

Yes, says Belle. I'll put him on. Here, Terence, it's Sweezus.

Hey little buddy, says Sweezus.

Guess what? says Terence. You know the carrot?

No, says Sweezus,. What carrot?

It's actually half a carrot, says Terence.

Yeah? says Sweezus. What happened?

There follows a meandering story. 

Rocking Towards The Great Sea

The carrot still refuses to write.

Never mind, says Belle. We'll put it in the box and write something ourselves.

Can I do it? asks Terence.

You can put the carrot in the box, says Belle. I'll write the note.

The box has a lid, attached on one side.

He opens the lid.

On the inside of the lid is a picture of three spotted eggs in a nest, lined with pink feathers.

You'll LOVE this! says Terence.

He drops the half carrot into the box and closes the lid.

It's dark and the carrot can't see anything. 

It does not love this.

It's probably dark in there, says Roo-kai. 

Open it, says Belle. I'll drop the note in.

Terence opens the lid.

The carrot gets a momentary glimpse of the eggs before the lid disappears and rests on the grass.

What did you write, dear? asks Saint Méen.

Dear Saint Roley's brother, says Belle. Please follow this carrot. It doesn't have a compass but it knows its way home.

The half carrot is outraged. It has no plans to go home.

But it's too late now.

The note is placed in the box, the lid is closed, and the box is lifted.

And jiggled for ages.

The carrot hears words.

What was the name of the brother?

Don't you remember?

Saint Malo, as I recall. The brothers were found in Saint Malo.

Wasn't it our potato box originally?

Yes, it was. 

Do you still eat a lot of potatoes?

Almost nothing but. We sometimes add fennel.

Why don't you come for a visit? The weather is pleasant.

I'd love that. Would you like that, Terence?

Yay! (This must be Terence).

You know, that carrot would have been a welcome addition to our pantry 

Ho ho! I hope it didn't hear that!

Here's a nice spot, shall we drop it in now?

Me! Let me do it!

Plop. Splash. 

Goodbye half carrot.

No view of the sky but a memory of three spotted eggs in a nest lined with feathers.

Rocking slowly towards the great sea.

Bird Soap And Chocolate

What shall we use for a boat? asks Belle.

A box with a finger, says Terence. 

We don't even have a box, let alone one with a finger, says Belle.

What's this about a finger? asks Saint Méen.

The story goes that Saint Roley's brother floated away on a piece of cardboard on which was printed a THIS WAY UP finger, says Roo-kai. And he took it for heavenly guidance.

As well one might, says Saint Maclou. Was he aware it was a potato box? 

I doubt it, says Belle. He was quite young at the time.

When one thinks about it, says Saint Méen, one wonders why there was a THIS WAY UP sign on a potato box.

So they knew which way to grow, says Terence.

Do you mean the potatoes? asks Roo-kai.

Yes, the potatoes, says Terence.

But the finger would have been on the outside of the box, says Roo-kai.

How do you know? asks Terence.

It's the convention, says Belle. Anyway, the legend of Saint Roley is what it is. 

A wise remark, says Saint Méen. 

I'll go back to the MuMa, says Belle, and see if they've got any spare boxes. Meanwhile, see if you can persuade the carrot to write that note.

She heads back to the MuMa, which is the André Malraux Museum of Modern Art, and which is bound to have boxes.

She enters the gift shop. 

Bonjour encore! says the gift shop assistant.

Hi! says Belle. Just wondering if you've got any spare boxes, about this size.

You want a free one? asks the gift shop assistant.

If you've got one, says Belle. Either with a finger or a blank space to draw a finger.

We've got these pencil boxes that feature the Sistine Chapel frescoes, says the gift shop assistant.

Perhaps too many fingers, says Belle. Might be confusing.

Okay, says the gift shop assistant. Try this one.

She brings out a box that is decorated with paintings of birds ( finch, barn owl, swan, crimson fronted parrot) and tasteful advertisements for soap and chocolates.

This one is pretty, says Belle. Is it free?

You are lucky today, says the gift shop assistant. Because yes. it is free. We are discontinuing these boxes.

Fantastic! says Belle.

She accepts the box, and returns to the others.

Guess what? says Terence. The carrot won't write ANYTHING!

I bet it will now, says Belle, placing the beautiful bird, soap and chocolate box in front of the carrot.

A Boat To Nirvana

I suppose we must respect the half carrot's wishes, says Belle.

Of course, says Saint Méen. Who'll throw it in?

I will, says Terence.

Let's all go, says Belle. We'll find a good spot. Here is too busy.

The saints get up off the grass, adjusting their beanies.

Belle picks up the frogs.

Terence grabs hold of the carrot.

Roo-kai flies down.

Leaving already?

Yes, says Terence. The carrot wants me to throw it back into the river.

How do you know what it wants? asks Roo-kai.

It wrote a note, says Terence. Belle's got it.

Yes I have, says Belle. There's no doubt about it.

May I see? asks Roo-kai.

Belle shows him the half carrot's poem.

Do you think it realises it's going to end up in the sea? asks Roo-kai.

I'm sure it does, says Belle. 

It may not understand how big the sea is, says Roo-kai.

What's going on? asks Saint Méen.

The carrot needs a boat, says Terence.

How will that help? asks Roo-kai.

It might meet Saint Roley's brother, says Terence.

What a lovely thought, Terence, says Belle.

Saint Roley's brother almost certainly drowned, says Roo-kai. 

The locals all believe that he drowned, says Saint Maclou. 

ALMOST certainly, says Terence. That means he didn't.

No. That means he might not have, says Belle.

See, says Terence. And the carrot will meet him, and they'll make friends, and Saint Roley's brother will ask the carrot if he brought a compass, and the carrot will say no but I  know the way back to where  I've just been, follow me.

It won't be able to say that, says Belle. 

Okay, says Terence. It can write it.

Sorry, says Belle, but Nico's pen is not going into the river.

Even Terence can see this is fair. Nico's pen is a good one. 

How about this? says Roo-kai. The carrot writes it beforehand.

An excellent idea, says Saint Méen. 

Roo-kai addresses the half carrot.

Are you willing to write the note for Saint Roley's brother beforehand? You may never meet him, but if you do, it will save you having to explain about not having a compass.

The half carrot had not expected this turn of events. 

It had imagined its poem of farewell was self-explanatory.

Back to the river..... there to disintegrate into tiny carrot cells..... after which..... nirvana.... 

Not a boat and note to some one's brother about a compass.

And True Me In

Saint Maclou is pulling out the half carrot, when Belle returns from the MuMa.

What happened? asks Belle.

Terence buried it, says Saint Méen. 

It was growing, says Terence.

Have you found it a note pad? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, says Belle. Look. It's really nice.

Indeed it is. From the gift shop at the MuMa. Thick creamy paper. A decorative pattern across the top of each page.

Very modern, says Saint Maclou. How much was it?

Three euros, says Belle.

I would offer to repay you, but we saints don't carry money, says Saint Maclou.

Don't worry, says Belle. Let's just see what it writes on this beautiful paper.

Saint Maclou sets the carrot back down on the grass.

But where is the pen it was holding?

It is still in the hole.

I'll get it, says Quiet-tartus. 

He retrieves the pen, which has ended up dirty.

Should we wash it? asks Belle.

No, says Saint Méen. I'm sure that the carrot won't mind.

At last the half carrot has the pen in its hairy tendril.

It thinks about what it will write.

dont.woch.me. writes the carrot.

What does it say? asks Terence.

Dont woch me says Belle. I guess it doesn't want us to watch it.

Unless it doesn't want us to wash it, says Saint Maclou.

Or wash the pen, says Saint Méen. As Belle was suggesting.

You mean the carrot may be writing as though it is the pen speaking, says Saint Maclou. That seems far fetched.

Why not ask it? says Saint Méen.

But there is no need. The carrot has been writing in the mean time, and has now finished.

It's finished, says Terence. 

May we read it? asks Belle.

The carrot does not indicate otherwise.

So Belle reads out its poem:

alto peepl ar kind

the btst pat of my lif is ovue

tak me bac to the rive

an true me in

menny tanks 4 vis boon

The saints are moved. 

Belle wipes a tear from her eye.

What? asks Terence.

It wants us to throw it back into the river, says Belle. 

Why didn't it just say that, says Terence. Before, when it could.

No doubt it wished to leave a written record, says Saint Méen.

I Wanted Wholeness

I'd like to swap the gift of speech for the gift of writing, says the half carrot.

Are you sure? asks Saint Maclou.

Would I get my own pencil? asks the half carrot.

Of course, says Saint Maclou. And a small pad of paper.

Are you quite determined? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, says the half carrot.

The saints take off their beanies again.

Buzz. Buzz.

The gift of speech is cancelled and the gift of writing is given.

Now what? says Terence.

The carrot can now write, says Saint Méen. Give it a pencil.

You're meant to give it a pencil, says Terence.

I might have a pencil, says Belle. No, I don't. But hey, I've still got Nico's pen!

Give it to the carrot, says Saint Méen.

Belle hesitates. How do you give a pen to a half carrot? 

Why do you hesitate? asks Saint Méen.

How will it hold it? asks Belle.

Offer the pen to the carrot, says Saint Maclou.

Belle offers Nico's good pen from the Musée des Beaux Arts to the carrot.

The carrot puts out a thin hairy tendril, and grasps Nico's pen.

Wow! says Belle. That's a strong hairy tendril!

The saints beam.

Now how about some paper? says Saint Méen. Maclou, where's that pad you mentioned?

Maclou feels in his trouser pocket, for a note pad he thinks that he has.

Curses, says Maclou. I don't have it.

I'll get some paper, says Belle. I'll go into that building behind us.

That's the MuMa, says Saint Méen. Good idea. 

Belle goes off to the MuMa. 

Everyone else remains with the carrot, and its pen.

I've finished your hole, says Quiet-tartus.

What hole? thinks the carrot. O that hole. A misunderstanding. What I wanted was wholeness. Why did I not persist in that request? Now I'm stuck with a pen I can hardly lift, and no paper. But wait. The frog has left a pile of dirt at the side of the hole. If I smooth it out, I could write in it.

The carrot rolls across to the dirt at the edge of the hole. 

It wants to go in! cries Terence. And then it'll grow!

He pushes the carrot into the hole and presses dirt all around it.

Buzz! The saints are not pleased.

The Gift Is Bestowed

Belle returns to the grassy area, with the half carrot.

Guess what? says Terence.

You too, says Belle.

What? says Terence.

Baby Pierre and Ouvert both have jobs , says Belle. At the Shipowner's House. Relief doorman and guard.

Woop, says Terence. But guess what?

What? says Belle.

Ask Méen and Maclou, says Terence.

Okay, says Belle. 

She looks at the two saints, who are beaming.

Where is your half carrot? asks Saint Méen.

Here, says Belle. It's looking kind of peaky. And now it can't even say 'carrot'.

Say 'carrot', says Terence, to the half carrot.

The half carrot remains silent.

It might if you scare it, says Quiet-tartus. Hey carrot! Boo!

But the carrot either cannot say carrot, or is not frightened. 

No need for that, says Saint Maclou. We're going to offer your carrot the gift of speech.

Great, says Belle. How will you know if it wants it?

We shall ask it, says Saint Méen.

I see, says Belle. Well, here it is, let's hope this has a happy ending.

It will, says Terence. 

The saints whip off their beanies and buzz loudly.

The gift is bestowed.

At last! says the half carrot. But it may be too late.

Wow, says Belle. It's so articulate! Dear carrot, it may not be too late.

What is left for me to say? asks the carrot. 

Bless you, says Saint Méen. Do you want this gift or don't you?

Is there something I could swap it for? asks the carrot.

Like what? asks Saint Méen.

Wholeness, says the carrot.

Holeness! laughs Terence. 

It wants us to plant it, says Quiet-tartus. In a hole.

He starts scratching a hole in the grass.

The gift of speech is subject to misunderstanding, says the carrot.

Would you prefer the gift of writing? asks Saint Maclou.

Saint Méen looks at his fellow saint sharply.

No, of course you wouldn't, says Saint Maclou.

But the carrot is thinking fast. The gift of writing has advantages.

One being clarity.

Another one would be owning a pencil.

'...rot'

What will I do in the mean time? asks Baby Pierre.

Whatever you like, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

I'd like to do something useful, says Baby Pierre.

Ever thought of being a relief doorman? asks Martin-Pierre Foache.

No, says Baby Pierre. But I'm open to anything.

He is, says Ouvert.

You'll need training, says Martin-Pierre Foache. But the work is not difficult.

Cool, says Baby Pierre. Do I get to hand out maps and lists of the things in the rooms?

Yes, says Martin-Pierre Foache. And you must remember to tell all visitors that some of the items have been relocated.

Wouldn't it be easier to make a new list? asks Ouvert.

Tch, says Martin-Pierre Foache. No it wouldn't. Items are moved every day.

Who does it? asks Baby Pierre.

We don't know, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

You need a guard, says Ouvert. I'm good at guarding.

I'll need proof of that, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

Let me in, says Ouvert.

In you go, says Martin-Pierre Foache. If you spot anyone moving anything, don't approach them, just come and tell me.

Okay, says Ouvert. 

He enters the Shipowner's House, and looks for a visitor to follow.

This is great! says Baby Pierre I'll be the doorman and he'll be the guard.

Hold your horses, says Martin-Pierre Foache. I'm the doorman.

Belle comes back out.

What a darling house! says Belle. I loved the blue dining room wall with the goddess friezes.

They are always popular, says Martin-Pierre Foache. And the beauty of friezes is that they can't be relocated.

Gosh, yes! says Belle. Nothing else was where it should be!

Nothing? says Martin-Pierre Foache. Luckily, I have now employed an experienced guard.

It's Ouvert, says Baby Pierre. And I'm the relief doorman.

Really? says Belle. Does that mean you're staying in Le Havre?

You know me, says Baby Pierre. I never stay anywhere. But I'm here till next year. 

I've got him booked on the Oasis of the Seas, says Martin-Pierre Foache. Back to Australia, via the Caribbean.

How wonderful! says Belle. Well, Baby Pierre, that's you sorted. Now where's that half carrot?

Here, says Martin-Pierre Foache. It's seen better days.

It used to say 'carrot', says Belle. It never says anything now.

She picks up the half carrot. 

'...rot', says the carrot.

Constellations and So On

Belle arrives at the Shipowner's House, with Baby Pierre and Ouvert.

Martin-Pierre Foache is standing outside.

There you are, says Martin-Pierre Foache. I was beginning to think you weren't coming.

But here we are, says Belle. This is Baby Pierre, and this is Ouvert, who isn't his cousin.

Not his cousin? says Matin-Pierre Foache. 

In case you thought he was, says Belle. He isn't. 

I took the name of his cousin, says Ouvert.

That clears that up, says Martin-Pierre Foache. Now, I believe Baby Pierre wanted to see me.

Yes, says Baby Pierre. Belle says you know Ageless lobster.

Indeed I do, says Martin-Pierre Foache. We sea-faring lobsters all know one another.

But Ageless is no seafarer, says Baby Pierre. He spends his time in the library.

And what is he reading? asks Martin-Pierre Foache.

Stuff, says Baby Pierre. About constellations and so on.

Constellations and so on, says Martin-Pierre Foache. There you are then. How may I help you?

Can we have a tour of the house? asks Belle.

Certainly, says Martin-Pierre Foache. But I'd prefer you to leave your half carrot outside. We don't encourage eating.

Okay, says Belle. She pays the seven euros. Martin-Pierre Foache gives her a map and list of contents.

Dont rely on it too heavily, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

Okay, says Belle.

She detaches the half carrot, and gives it to Martin-Pierre Foache for safe keeping.

She enters the Shipowner's House. It's a five story house built around a central light well, with rooms containing furniture, old maps, paintings, and various knicknacks dating back to the Ancien Régime, smelling faintly of fish.

Baby Pierre and Ouvert remain outside

Not going in? asks Martin-Pierre Foache.

No, says Baby Pierre. I want to ask you something.

Go ahead, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

If you were Ageless, what advice would you give me? says Baby Pierre.

In regards to what? asks Martin-Pierre Foache.  

Baby Pierre hesitates.

He crashed his bicycle in the Tour de France, says Ouvert. He wants to go home to Australia, but he has no means to get there.

No problem, says Martin-Pierre Foache. I'll get him on one of those cruise ships. They're always coming and going. We'll find one that's going to Australia.

He consults his smart phone.

Yes! The Oasis of the Seas will start offering cruises to Australia early next year. I'll book you a spot on the first one!

Next year? says Baby Pierre. 

Yes, No And Water

The frogs have come back, after catching some flies.

Who are those guys? asks Quiet-tartus.

Yurp! says the knowlesi.

Méen and Maclou, says Terence. And guess what? 

Whurp? asks the knowlesi.

What? asks Quiet-tartus (who has not swallowed so many French flies).

They're going to make it so the carrot can talk, says Terence.

It can already talk, says Quiet-tartus.

More than just 'carrot', says Terence.

Saint Méen sits up.

Are these the frogs? asks Saint Méen. 

What do YOU think? asks Quiet-tartus.

Ha ha, laughs Saint Méen. I deserved that.

He pokes Saint Maclou.

Terence's frogs have returned, says Saint Méen.

Do they require the gift of speech? asks Saint Maclou.

NO! says Terence. They've already got it.

Grurp! says the knowlesi. 

That frog could be helped to do better, says Saint Maclou.

He's just burping, says Terence.

What's that b-urp-uzzing? asks the knowlesi.

Nothing, says Saint Méen. 

Surely it's all right for these small frogs to know our secret, says Saint Maclou.

You're right, Maclou, says Saint Méen. The buzzing comes from our haloes. We keep them hidden under our beanies, which saves us from the constant demands of the public

Haloes, says Terence. You know what those are?

Nurp! says the knowlesi.

They're magical hat rings, says Terence. I used to have one, but I dropped it and it broke and the Virgin said no one gets a second one.

That is certainly true, says Saint Méen. Ours are intact. The beanies help keep them so.

You should've had a beanie, says Quiet-tartus.

I had one, says Terence. 

I bet you lost it, says Quiet-tartus.

How did you know? asks Terence.

Because you don't have it, says Quiet-tartus.

What if it was in my pocket? says Terence.

You've got nothing but o-rings in there, says the knowlesi.

They are highly articulate frogs, says Saint Maclou. We should concentrate on the carrot.

Yes, says Terence. These are the words you should teach it: yes and no. 

If we give it the gift of speech it can say what it likes, says Saint Méen.

Ha ha, laughs the knowlesi. We know it likes water.

Okay, yes, no and water, says Terence.

WHATEVER it likes! says Saint Méen. For instance, it might say: How has my life come to this?

How indeed, agrees Saint Maclou. 

Gift Of Terrible Curses

Saint Méen and Saint Maclou! says Belle. How lovely to see you!

Hush, says Saint Méen, pointing to his beanie. We're travelling incognito.

Sorry, says Belle. But thank you for giving the pebbles a lift.

Not at all, says Saint Méen. Happy to be of service. We were cycling back from Rouen, when Roo-kai appeared out of nowhere.

Hardly nowhere, says Roo-kai.

The heavens, then, says Saint Méen.

Everything happens for a reason, says Saint Maclou.

Or seems to have, says Belle. 

There's an interesting thought! says Saint Méen. 

And he asked us to give a lift to the pebbles, says Saint Maclou. 

So here we are, says Baby Pierre. Have you been to the Shipowners' House?

Yes, says Belle. We met the doorman.

He was a lobster, says Terence. He wanted to give us a tour.

A self-guided tour, says Belle. And he knew Ageless.

Great, says Baby Pierre. Let's go there right now.

Wait for the frogs to come back, says Belle. They're off catching flies.

We'll wait here for your frogs, says Saint Maclou. We could do with a breather.

Thank you, says Belle. We'll be back in less than an hour. Coming Terence?

Can I stay here? asks Terence.

If that's okay, says Belle.

Of course it is, says Saint Méen. We have a soft spot for Terence. Remember that beetle?

The Scarabee! says Terence. It's legs fell off. 

Not all of them, says Saint Maclou.

See you later, then, says Belle, picking up Baby Pierre and Ouvert.

I say, says Saint Maclou. Does she know what's attached to her backpack?

My old shorts, says Terence. I've got new ones.

Very nice, says Saint Maclou. Birds of prey, aren't they? But I was referring to the half carrot.

Yes, says Terence. That's our carrot. It can only say 'carrot'.

I'm not surprised, says Saint Méen.

Would it benefit from the  gift of speech? asks Saint Maclou. It's within our power.

I know, says Terence. You gave it to the beetle.

Hmm, that didn't go well, says Saint Méen.

Those terrible curses! says Saint Maclou

But the carrot is friendly, says Terence.  

We'll think about it, says Saint Méen. When Belle brings it back.

The saints lie back on the grass, looking up at clouds that remind them of feathers.

Their beanies ease up their foreheads. 

The buzzing gets louder.

Terence can see the front edge of their haloes, flashing.

He is going to say something, but but forgets to. The frogs have come back,

French Flies

Now what? says Terence.

We'll look around the dock area, says Belle. 

They pass the Bains des Docks, an aquatic centre.

Can we go swimming? asks Terence.

I don't think so, says Belle. 

My frogs want to go swimming, says Terence.

What? says Quiet-tartus. Swimming? No, we want to eat flies.

Here's a nice grassy area, says Belle. I'll let you out here.

Swimming would be better, says Terence.

But the frogs don't think so. They hop away to catch flies.

Belle sits on the grass and takes her phone out. 

A missed call from Gaius. What can he want?

She calls Gaius.

Hoo-cgh!-uch!-hrm! says Gaius. Who is it?

Me, Belle,  says Belle. Sorry did I wake you?

Not at all, says Gaius. Just coughing. Winter ills. Aha! I wanted to speak to you.

Well, go ahead, says Belle.

Where are you? asks Gaius.

In Le Havre, says Belle. I was following Baby Pierre here. But I arrived first. So I'm waiting, in a grassy area.

Is Terence with you? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Belle. Do you want to speak to him?

Later, says Gaius. What about the frogs?

They're here, says Belle. Hopping about catching flies.

French flies? says Gaius.

Is that supposed to be funny? asks Belle.

No.. oh yes, ha ha, I suppose it is funny, says Gaius. French flies! But seriously, those frogs must return to Australia. How would you describe their condition?

Fine, says Belle. They made a friend, a green spotted frog who called herself Parsley.

A pelodytes punctatus! says Gaius. 

That's her, says Belle.

Don't let them get too friendly, says Gaius. 

They didn't, says Belle. And now she's gone home.

Very good, says Gaius. So, when can we expect you?

Don't know, says Belle. We're waiting for Baby Pierre.

Here he comes! cries Terence. 

And its true. Here he comes, having leapt from the panier velo of an ancient chap in a buzzing red beanie.

Behind whom is another ancient chap in a similar beanie, from whose panier velo leaps Ouvert.

Above them Roo-kai flutters, looking pleased with his efforts.

Now A Doorman

Belle asked me to set up a rendez-vous in Le Havre, says Roo-kai.

Okay, says Baby Pierre. Where?

The Shipowner's House, says Roo-kai. Do you know where that is?

I'll ask when I get to Le Havre, says Baby Pierre.

Fine, says Roo-kai. Belle said she thought you'd go there.

She was right. How did she know? asks Baby Pierre.

Better ask her, says Roo-kai.

He flies back up the road to where Belle has emerged from the Boucles de la Seine and entered the port of Le Havre.

Big boats! says Terence. 

Yes, says Belle. What are they all?

Tugboats, supply ships, cargo ships, container ships, oil tankers, crane ships, bulk carriers, and passenger cruise ships.

To name just a few.

I told Baby Pierre we'd meet them at the Shipowner's House, says Roo-kai. 

Great, says Belle. We'll check out where it is, and then we'll explore the dock area.

She takes out her phone, and gets directions to 3 quai de I'lle.

It's a five storey house, now a museum. A lobster is waiting outside.

Bonjour, madame, says the lobster, as Belle leans her bicycle against the wall.

Bonjour, says Belle. 

Are you taking the tour? says the lobster. It's self-guided. Here is a list of the objects you can see in the various rooms. But I should warn you, some of them have been re-located.

That will not bother us, says Belle.

It will bother me, says Terence. 

It won't, says Belle. 

Seven euros for you madame, says the lobster, and free for the child.

We're not going in yet, says Belle. We're just here to set up a rendez-vous. 

That's all right, says the lobster. When will your friends be arriving?

Later on, says Belle. I don't know exactly. But Roo-kai will keep us posted. The thing is, one of our friends has a special purpose for coming to Le Havre, and you might be involved.

I, madame? says the lobster.

Do you know Ageless lobster? asks Belle.

Ageless lobster! says the lobster, Of course I know Ageless! Is it he?

No, says Belle. He's still in Adelaide, as far as I know. Our friend is Baby Pierre. Ageless is his mentor.

Then he is welcome! cries the lobster. I am Martin-Pierre Foache by the way. I owned this fine house once, but now alas, I must serve as a doorman. Still, it's a living.

Wonderful, says Belle. Okay, we'll be back later.

I await your return, says Martin-Pierre Foache, and the arrival of Ageless's baby.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. He's not a baby!

He's actually a pebble, says Belle. Quite an old one. With a mark on his head like a claw.

Or a tulip, says Terence.

Apologies, says Martin-Pierre Foache. And merci for the heads-up.

Belle turns to go.

Martin-Pierre Foache sees the droopy half-carrot, attached to a small pair of shorts, hanging from her back pack.

He wonders if she knows it is there.

Teeth Of The Future

Roo-kai descends, flying level with Belle's ear.

What happened to the carrot? asks Roo-kai

The frogs, says Belle. I'm hoping to dry it out as I go.

They ate the bottom half? asks Roo-kai.

No! says Belle. Is it missing?

Yes, says Roo-kai. And the top half looks like it's waiting for something.

Grandpa, says Terence. 

We were praying, says the knowlesi.

I wasn't, says Terence.

You were , says Quiet-tartus.

I definitely was, says the knowlesi. I'm still doing it. Ommmmm.

Where did you learn that? asks Roo-kai.

Baby Pierre, says the knowlesi. And he learned it from his mother. And she learned it from the Omniscient Stone.

It's just a stupid rock, says Terence. With knobs on.

It's supposed to know the future, says the knowlesi.

So what's the point praying to it? says Roo-kai.

 A good question, says Belle. By the way, did you see Baby Pierre and Ouvert on the road anywhere?

Yes, says Roo-kai. They're already two k's behind us.

Oh well, says Belle. It was their choice. It means we'll have time to look around Le Havre.

What's there? asks Terence.

Boats, says Belle. All kinds. And the Bains des Docks, and the Docks Océane arena, and the Magic Mirrors. 

Magic Mirrors! says Terence. Let's go there!

Okay, says Belle. We'll see all of them, but first we'll go to the Shipowners's House. That's where I think Baby Pierre will be heading.

Shall I go back and check? asks Roo-kai. We could set up a rendez-vous.

Yes, do that, says Belle.

Roo-kai flies back to where Baby Pierre and Ouvert are toiling along the road, sweating.

You guys, says Roo-kai. 

What? says Baby Pierre. Come to mock us?

No way, says Roo-kai. I'm here to help. And to tell you what's happened to the carrot.

Tell us, says Ouvert. 

It's now only half a carrot, says Roo-kai. Hanging on the back of Belle's pack, with Terence's old shorts. Looking for some kind of grandpa. The knowlesi is giving it an ommm.

Ommmms don't work, says Baby Pierre. The Omniscient Stone used to say it all the time.

So how do you know it didn't work? asks Ouvert.

Because Gaius used the Omniscient Stone to make teeth for Sweezus's dog, Farky, says Baby Pierre. To be fair, the teeth were omniscient.

Wow! What happened to Farky? asks Ouvert. Was he famous?

Kidnapped, says Baby Pierre.