Gaius still thinks the wet towel is Houdini. He hears it say Pherrf!
You don't sound very well, says Gaius. That's it. I'm letting you go.
He walks down to the jetty. It's very dark by this time. No one else is about.
Except Beverley. What is she doing here?
Gaius! says Beverley. All alone?
Appears not, says Gaius. What brings you down here?
Believe it or not, says Beverley, it's that cuttlefish. The one Arthur lost in the pub.
Don't worry about it, says Gaius. I'm just about to do the right thing.
You are? says Beverley. I thought I was.
Very kind of you Beverley, says Gaius. But I can release a cuttlefish on my own.
Not if you don't have it, surely? says Beverley.
I do have it, says Gaius. In here.
No you don't, says Beverley. I have it, in here. At first glance I thought it was string.
She points to her handbag.
No doubt it is string, says Gaius. I can assure you that I ...
He opens his back pack.
Pherrf! says the very wet towel.
That's funny, says Gaius. I was talking to him just this minute. We spoke about self determination, and independence.
That is a wet towel, says Beverley. In fact I recognise it. It's from the front bar of the pub. A long towel for soaking up drips. I'm sure it knows nothing of self determination and independence.
Gaius has to admit that what's in his back pack does look like a long wet red towel.
He draws it out of his back pack.
Pity, says Gaius. I was about to release it back to its watery home.
Give it to me, says Beverley. I'll take it home and put it through the washing machine.
Pherrf! The very wet long red towel bows to the dictates of fate.
Perhaps then, says Gaius, what you have in your handbag is not string.
Of course it's not string, says Beverley. I think I can tell a cuttlefish from a piece of string as well if not better than anyone.
She opens her hand bag.
Houdini has vanished!
Dear me, says Beverley. He seems to have vanished, but not before wrecking my handbag. It's all wet and slimy.What a night!
Indeed, what a night, says Gaius. Most unsatisfactory.
Never mind, Gaius, says Beverley. We country people are very forgiving. I'm sure you meant well by the Twitcher.
Gaius is about to demur when he thinks better of it.
No need to court further trouble. Who knows? Perhaps Beverley is about to invite him to her place for a hot cup of cocoa.
Where are you staying? asks Beverley.
Nowhere, says Gaius. I may sleep out here. It's quite temperate.
A kind-hearted thought occurs to Beverley.
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