You Too Are Valuable

Gaius breaks through the bulrushes.

Careful, says someone. A woman.

Sorry, says Gaius.

We're planting seedlings, says the woman.

Well done, says Gaius. I'm looking for clean water.

We know, says the woman. Your crab told us.

Where is she? asks Gaius.

Over there talking to my daughter, says the woman. I'm Paloma, by the way.

Gaius, says Gaius.

You're bird spotting, says Paloma. Hoping to see an emu-wren. Any luck so far?

Not yet, says Gaius. We were having a lunch break, when young Terence fell into the mud. That's why we need the clean water.

There's clean water here, says Paloma. But don't let him muddy it up.

Of course not, says Gaius. I'll go back and get him. Perhaps we could borrow that empty seedling container.

You're welcome, says Paloma.

Gaius heads off.

Lily! calls Paloma. Come here darling!

I'm talking to the parrot, shouts Lily.

Go to your mother, says Alexander-Red-Hook. I'll come too. We can continue our conversation.

Okay, says Lily.

This is all very well, but we've missed the start. Let's reverse time's arrow.

Five minutes previous. Start of conversation:

Lily: Hello crab, I saw you in the bakery.

Alexander-Red-Hook: No way!

Lily: Yes it was you. You told me you were a parrot and never stopped talking.

Alexander-Red-Hook: I remember! Your mother bought you a Funny Face.

Lily: And I wasn't allowed to eat it.

Alexander-Red-Hook: Same as Terence. He had to wait till we got here.

Lily: Who's Terence?

Alexander-Red-Hook: My...um...boy. And I am his parrot. I'm easing into the role.

Lily: Why doesn't he get a proper parrot?

Alexander-Red-Hook: He values me. I know parrot things and crab things.

Lily: I know plant things and bird things.

Alexander-Red-Hook: Then you too are valuable.

Right. Time's reversed arrow has now caught up to the present. (Don't try to picture it).

Lily and Alexander-Red-Hook have made it back to Paloma.

Gaius has again pushed his way through the bulrushes.

There is now a good gap in the bulrushes.

(You might picture that).

A muddy infant stomps through the gap in his stiffening shorts. On his head are two Smarties.

He is followed by Kierkegaard, the philosopher, whose lips are still shiny with sugar glaze from a recent pastry.