'...rot'

What will I do in the mean time? asks Baby Pierre.

Whatever you like, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

I'd like to do something useful, says Baby Pierre.

Ever thought of being a relief doorman? asks Martin-Pierre Foache.

No, says Baby Pierre. But I'm open to anything.

He is, says Ouvert.

You'll need training, says Martin-Pierre Foache. But the work is not difficult.

Cool, says Baby Pierre. Do I get to hand out maps and lists of the things in the rooms?

Yes, says Martin-Pierre Foache. And you must remember to tell all visitors that some of the items have been relocated.

Wouldn't it be easier to make a new list? asks Ouvert.

Tch, says Martin-Pierre Foache. No it wouldn't. Items are moved every day.

Who does it? asks Baby Pierre.

We don't know, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

You need a guard, says Ouvert. I'm good at guarding.

I'll need proof of that, says Martin-Pierre Foache.

Let me in, says Ouvert.

In you go, says Martin-Pierre Foache. If you spot anyone moving anything, don't approach them, just come and tell me.

Okay, says Ouvert. 

He enters the Shipowner's House, and looks for a visitor to follow.

This is great! says Baby Pierre I'll be the doorman and he'll be the guard.

Hold your horses, says Martin-Pierre Foache. I'm the doorman.

Belle comes back out.

What a darling house! says Belle. I loved the blue dining room wall with the goddess friezes.

They are always popular, says Martin-Pierre Foache. And the beauty of friezes is that they can't be relocated.

Gosh, yes! says Belle. Nothing else was where it should be!

Nothing? says Martin-Pierre Foache. Luckily, I have now employed an experienced guard.

It's Ouvert, says Baby Pierre. And I'm the relief doorman.

Really? says Belle. Does that mean you're staying in Le Havre?

You know me, says Baby Pierre. I never stay anywhere. But I'm here till next year. 

I've got him booked on the Oasis of the Seas, says Martin-Pierre Foache. Back to Australia, via the Caribbean.

How wonderful! says Belle. Well, Baby Pierre, that's you sorted. Now where's that half carrot?

Here, says Martin-Pierre Foache. It's seen better days.

It used to say 'carrot', says Belle. It never says anything now.

She picks up the half carrot. 

'...rot', says the carrot.