Let's Be Two Little Girls

It's all rather awkward.

Arthur looks down at his bleeding knees. He feels in his pocket and pulls out a bandage. A piece of crumpled paper flutters to the ground.

Emma picks it up.

It's a poem, she says, smoothing it out.

Give it here, says mum quickly.

Not yet, I'm reading it, says Emma.

Mum hopes the poem is nice.

Let's be two children: let's be two little girls ( reads Emma )
In love with nothing
Amazed by all life brings
Pale with fear beneath the leaves' chaste curls
Not knowing they've been forgiven everything.

Is that about us? asks Irma.

What? says Paul Verlaine. About you? Certainly not! It's about Arthur and me.

Well it's very nice, says mum. Did you write it, Monsieur Verlaine? May I have it?

Yes, says Arthur. Have it.

I gave it to you, Arthur, says Paul.

Exactly, says Arthur. It's mine to give away.

Mum goes back to the tent with the poem. She comes back. She picks up the ruined Blu Tack impression of Lavender.

Waste not want not, she says. I'll Blu Tack the poem to the tent pole.

Lavender is not sure about this. It wasn't THAT ruined. Now it'll be totally flattened by mum's thumb.

Mathilde is not happy either.

Come, Paul, says Mathilde. Let's go. I shall drive.

Paul looks deflated.

Goodbye, says Arthur.

Goodbye, says Paul Verlaine. Wait, have you still got my scraper?

I'll keep it, says Arthur. Alright?