Fish Door Knobs Emu Butter

Margaret hands Ludwig a knife. He cuts off a large chunk of fish.

The flesh comes off easily.

Cut some more, says Margaret. Here's a plate. I'll find the forks

You've thought of everything, says Katherine.

Only two forks, says Margaret. We'll take turns.

This is delicious, says Katherine.

Potatoes to come, says Margaret. Shall I crack open another bottle?

Ludwig's mouth is full of fish.

Margaret opens a bottle of red wine. The camp fire crackles.

Night in the Coorong.

The sounds of heavy waves crashing..... shuurrrr....

Ludwig was telling me all about door knobs, says Margaret.

Oh was he? thinks Katherine. Is this some kind of code?

She raises her eyebrows at Margaret.

Margaret looks meaningfully at Ludwig.

Speak, Ludwig.

Ludwig swallows his mouthful.

It was before I returned to Cambridge, says Ludwig. I had turned to architecture, and my sister was building a house. I designed the door handles. They weren't actual knobs.

Fascinating, says Katherine.

That's what I said, says Margaret.

What more can one say? says Katherine. Have you brought a tent with you, Margaret?

I have a small two-man tent, says Margaret. I haven't put it up yet. I thought Ludwig might prefer to sleep under the stars.

Oh yes, says Katherine. They say the Milky Way looks much brighter out here in the Coorong.

There's supposed to be an emu, says Margaret. The indigenous people know of it. Ludwig, look up. Can you see it?

Ludwig looks up. He spots the emu straight away.

I can't see it, says Katherine.

The dark area with no stars, says Ludwig. It's in the shape of an emu.

That's it! says Margaret. It's there but not there. You can see why he's a philosopher.

I can't see why anyone is a philosopher, sighs Katherine. Take my son David.

What's wrong with him? asks Margaret.

Always proving that he can't really know anything, says Katherine. Yet acting like a great know-all. And he eats too much. It's not good for him....

I believe the potatoes might be ready, says Ludwig. They're black on the outside.

Poke them with this, says Margaret.

She hands him a skewer.

What a marvel is Margaret, who came camping without any potatoes, and yet brought a skewer!

No, the potatoes are still hard on the inside.

Poor Gaius only has apples, says Katherine. I mustn't leave him alone the whole night.

Wait until the potatoes are ready, says Margaret. Then wrap some in newspaper, and drive back with them.

Take butter, says Ludwig.

Margaret and Katherine look at one another.

They both make that face that you make when you've forgotten the butter.