Pastiche

Just give me a few minutes, said Belle et Bonne.

A few minutes! said Beckett. Is that all you think it takes to come up with a piece of highbrow art?

I am young, said Belle et Bonne. I write whatever comes into my head. Don't worry.

Done! she pronounced, after three minutes of solid typing. Would you all like to hear it?

And she began to read:

Part Two- A Romance.

Stop right there! said Beckett. A Romance! What the devil? I don't write Romance!

You do, said Belle and Bonne, and she went on reading:

It struck me suddenly that I had a choice. I was careering down a county lane on my bicycle not slowing although I knew there was a corner coming up. What if, I thought, although I am not the sort of person who generally thinks what if. What if, to speed up the story, I slow down? This may be the very action that prevents me from colliding with a woman who is riding her own bicycle on a trajectory towards me. It could be that, in the circumstances, we might stop, and greet one another. I might say, what might I say, what might I not say? I can be very charming when I like. And so can she. How beautiful she is. She is not of course wearing a hat. Her long brown hair will be escaping delightfully in curling tendrils, from a bun. We may then decide to change direction and travel togther to the nearest village, to have some lunch. She will smile and show me her white unbroken teeth.

Well, what do you think?

Oh bravo! cried Simone. I love it! What do you think, Samuel?

Not bad, said Beckett, not bad at all, young Belle et Bonne. I have no objection to a well-made pastiche.

Nor I, said The VeloDrone. Let's all go out to lunch.

Yes, said Beckett, and I'll pay, he added, looking at Simone.

He Will Pay

Calm yourself, Simone! said The VeloDrone. Of course we will not publish it. You and I, we shall not even read it.

Oh yes we shall, said Simone, calming down at once. I most certainly wish to know what that man has written about me. Read it, Belle et Bonne.

Belle et Bonne began to read:

Sometimes I have a very clear memory of things that have happened. For example it was only yesterday I ran my bicycle into a woman who was rounding a bend in a country lane. The woman was riding a bicycle exactly like mine in all respects but both her feet were pedalling. She wore a black and white striped hat, rounded at the top, like a pixie......

You see, said Simone tartly.

I see, said The VeloDrone. Go on Belle et Bonne.

The woman tumbled off her bicycle. I was obliged to bring myself to a sudden halt in order to go to her aid, although I did not see how I could help when I had a stiff leg, and in the process I too landed in the road with my outer clothing all askew. A crowd gathered around us as if from nowhere.......

A lie, said Simone. There was no crowd.

All to the good, said the VeloDrone.

........I was composing a mitigating statement with the object of speaking aloud when the woman stood up and straightened her hat, saying some words the nature of which I have forgotten, but it was clear she had broken a tooth. Look, said someone in the crowd, she has broken a tooth and it is the fault of this man. The crowd took on a threatening visage. Do not worry about it, said the woman, in fact this man has done me a favour. The tooth in question was chipped already, and I had resigned myself to living with the deformity, being a woman of a certain age......

Belle et Bonne stopped reading and looked at Simone, who had turned an alarming shade of puce. Simone nodded at her to go on. She gabbled the final few words.

......but now I must visit the dentist !

Well, said Simone heavily, that at least is true. And it is Beckett who will pay.