You Cried and Cried

That story is not about my real future, said Arthur.

It might be, said Lavender.

It couldn't be, said Arthur. And this is why. . How could I be riding alone, and then dream you up, when you were already here, travelling with me in a wire basket?

You could have chosen the past, said Lavender.

Then what would have happened? asked Arthur.

I would have told you a story about when you were a little baby, said Lavender.

Tell it to me now, said Arthur.

You cried and cried, said Lavender.

Not when I was a little baby, said Arthur. Not ever in fact.

You don't remember, said Lavender.

Nor do you, said Arthur.

Arthur rode on in silence.

It's hard for me, said Lavender.

What is? asked Arthur.

To make up a story, said Lavender. Not much has happened to me.

Where do you come from? asked Arthur.

The window sill, said Lavender.

But before, said Arthur. You must have lived on the coast.

I've been to the coast, said Lavender. I went on the bus, with a poet.

A poet? said Arthur. Which one?

Rabbie Burns, said Lavender. He was made out of stone. He told me a story. He hadn't got any boots.

You mean Robert Burns? said Arthur. The Scottish Bard? Why hadn't he got any boots?

He fell off his plinth, I think, said Lavender. Or maybe he just walked away.

So he was a statue? said Arthur. He walked away from his boots?

He walked right out of them, said Lavender. And onto the bus.

That is quite a good story, said Arthur.

Thank you, Arthur, said Lavender.

And so the time passed pleasantly, until they came to the gate of the Gemtree Caravan Park. No Jeeps were entering or leaving at that moment , but something had been hung on the fence.