Pale At The Mention of His Name

Arthur sipped milk through a straw from a carton.

Your bandage slipped down, said the manager. That looks nasty. I could sell you some bandaids as well.

Arthur tugged up his bandage.

The French man you spoke of, said Arthur, his name wasn't Paul?

It was, said the manager. Do you know him?

How long ago was he here? asked Arthur.

A few days now, said the manager. Do you want to play paddy melon bowls or not?

Bowls? muttered Arthur. Oh yes, bowls. Alright.

I'll put you in a team, said the manager. We play in the evenings, under lights, on the killer couch grass.

How did he look? asked Arthur.

Verlaine? He was handsome, and bald.

Merde! said Arthur. It was him!

Well, he's gone now , said the manager. Did you two have issues?

Arthur said nothing, but rubbed his left wrist.

..........

Ageless had made friends with Moloch. Moloch was keeping him informed.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Moloch came back to the billabong.

What's Arthur doing? grated Ageless, easing himself up from the depths, half in and half out of his shell.

Ouch! said Moloch. You do look incommoded!

That's exactly what I am, said Ageless. Incommoded. It gets harder each time. But tell me about Arthur.

Arthur is going to play paddy melon bowls tonight under lights on the killer couch grass, said Moloch. He's been put in a team.

A team! said Ageless. I can't imagine Arthur in a team.

Your Arthur seemed agitated about something, said Moloch. He may not have been paying attention. Have you heard of a chap called Verlaine?

Can't say I have, said Ageless. Why?

His name made Arthur turn pale, said Moloch.

Arthur must be kept happy at all costs, said Ageless. See what you can find out, my friend.