What To Do on a Wet Day in Quillan

How right they were.

Baby Pierre had not wanted to get off the bus in Quillan, for it was raining.

Can I stay on the bus? he asked the driver. It's raining.

Non, said the driver, in French. C'est fini.

Fini, said Baby Pierre to himself sadly.

He picked up his copy of  La Princesse de Babylone, and got off the bus.

He crossed the road, dodging the puddles.

He looked into a cafe. Inside three men were watching football.

Baby Pierre wished that Lavender was with him. He imagined her there at his side. She would have her blue pink and yellow umbrella. She would have something to eat in a bag.

Come under my umbrella, Baby Pierre, she would have said. Don't get wet.

No, he would have replied. Let's walk to the end of the town.

They would have walked to the end of the town. All the shops would have been shut. All the artists' studios too. He knew this, because it was true.

There's nothing to see, Lavender would have said.

Yes there is, Baby Pierre would have replied. See the towering mountains covered in mist. We are in the foothills of the Pyrenees, halfway between Carcassonne and Perpignan. That is the Aude River rushing by. And there are stones.

Derrr, Lavender would have said. But it's RAINING. And nobody else is about. Come and sit on the step under this awning, and have a drink of milk, and some raisins and nuts.

We are stones, Baby Pierre would have answered. We don't need anything.

Yes we do, Lavender would have replied.

But Lavender was not there. And it was raining.

Baby Pierre sighed, and returned to the bus stop. He held the copy of La Princesse de Babylone over his head. It would get wet, but so what.