No Bees

Are we there yet? asks Terence.

No, of course not, says Belle. But we'll soon be at Mont Saint-Michel.

How soon? asks Terence.

Is Terence being a nuisance? asks Jeanne Jugan.

No more than usual, says Belle.

Would he like to come with me? asks Jeanne Jugan.

Are you going faster? asks Terence.

I'd like to, says Jeanne Jugan. I need to get home and water my hydrangeas.

Can I do it? asks Terence.

Yes, says Jeanne Jugan.

Okay, says Belle. It would be nice without Terence's weight in my panier velo.

They stop. 

Terence is transferred to Jeanne Jugan's flat back panier.

His face is directly opposite her bottom.

I'll see you at my cottage in Cancale, says Jeanne Jugan. I'll provide afternoon tea.

She remounts and cycles away. 

What did she say? asks Saint Maclou. 

Afternoon tea at her place, says Belle. She's taking Terence. We can go slower.

What a relief, says Saint Maclou. 

Jeanne Jugan speeds through Mont Saint-Michel without stopping.

Hey, says Terence. What was that castle?

I'm sure you've seen it before, says Jeanne Jugan. It's an abbey, built out in the sea.

Cannot but be, says Terence.

Huh? says Jeanne Jugan. 

Don't you know cannot but be? asks Terence.

I don't, says Jeanne Jugan. Is it a word game? 

What would it be if there were two beetles? asks Terence.

What would it be? asks Jeanne Jugan.

Two bees, says Terence.

What does that have to do with an abbey? asks Jeanne Jugan.

Nothing says Terence. Two beetles was an example. Now we'll play it. 

Okay, says Jeanne Jugan. Try me,

What would it be if it was an abbey? says Terence.

Two bees, says Jeanne Jugan. 

Yes! says Terence. How did you know?

Cannot but be, says Jeanne Jugan. Now let's play I spy.

Only if it's colours, says Terence.

Jeanne Jugan thinks Terence ought to be able to play it with letters, but then...just look at that glorious sky and that brilliant sea.

I spy with my little eye something sapphire, says Jeanne Jugan.

A beetle, says Terence.

I could not spot a beetle at this speed, says Jeanne Jugan.

Correct! says Terence.

That was fun, says Jeanne Jugan, but now I must concentrate on my cycling. 

What will I do? asks Terence.

Count the leftover moules, says Jeanne Jugan. 

She pulls the doggy bag out from under her tee shirt.

She hands it to Terence.

It is greasy and the paper is thin. His claw finger rips it, accidentally.

Moules tumble onto the road. 

Jeanne Jugan has to stop, to retrieve them.

Terence looks in the grass for a beetle.