Start With The Edges

He was taller? says Ageless. And more handsome?

A great deal more handsome, says Kobo. Dark curling hair and tight trousers.

And what happened at the end of the trousers? asks Ageless.

The lower end? says Kobo. A fine pair of boots.

He must have got back into them, says Ageless. That would explain it. What did he say?

Good evening, says Kobo. Of course Jean recognised him at once.

And invited him in, says Ageless.

You, Ageless, were in the green slimy pool at the bottom of the garden, says Kobo.

Meaning? says Ageless.

You could not know, says Kobo. Let me tell the story.

You weren't there either, my butterball, says Ageless.

I was there, says Lavender.

But you were upstairs, says Kobo. Reading a story with Fish.

Oh, says Lavender. What was it?

Think hard, says Kobo.

So Rabbie Burns came in, says Ageless. How did he explain that he'd arrived without any presents?

He had no need to, says Kobo. Jean thanked him for the haggis and apologised that the family had already eaten it. She asked him if he'd like to watch the tennis.

The tennis, says Ageless. No doubt he refused. He is more of a talker.

He did not refuse, says Kobo. He was charming. He came in and sat down in front of the tennis.

Who was playing? asks Ageless.

Don't you know? says Kobo. But of course, you were in the dark pool, sulking.

Federer? says Ageless. Nadal? Venus? Serena?

To be honest, says Kobo, it could have been anyone. Rabbie never saw any of it. Because Rabbie was confronted by a jigsaw.

On the television?

No, on the coffee table. A fiendishly hard one.

Can I come downstairs? asks Lavender. I love jigsaws.

Not this one, says Kobo.

I'm coming down anyway, says Lavender. The story's finished.

What was it? asks Ageless.

Mister Chatterbox, says Lavender. It had a trick ending.

I don't know Mister Chatterbox, says Kobo. What was the trick ending?

Keep it under your hat, says Lavender. What does that mean?

Kobo is not going down that path. She returns to the jigsaw.

Rabbie Burns likes a good jigsaw, He starts tinkering with the pieces. Hardly any of the jigsaw is done. The picture on the box is of Santorini, with its tiny white houses, brown cliffs and bushes, and soft blue-grey-pink sky.

Did he start with the edges?

He tried to, but then Jean brought out the Tobermory. She was expecting a nice conversation.

He told her about his nasty tumble.

From a safe distance, she examined his knees.

He placed a strategic corner.

The score was six love.

A double meaning! You have excelled yourself, my beloved, says Ageless.

Kobo ignores him.

At ten thirty, the Poet took a stroll to the bottom of the garden, before turning in.

He mounted the wooden steps to the railing that fenced off the pool. He leaned over the railing, and sighed.

My heart is sair, I dare na tell,
My heart is sair, for Somebody.

You stirred.

You rose to the surface, your eyes on stalks, waving.

He spotted you.

Ah! said the Poet. The haggis is explained.