Bilbao Berets

Vello and David are in the departure lounge, waiting.

There they are! says David.

It's two minutes to seven. Gaius, Pierre-Louis and Terence have made it! 

Got your passports? asks Vello.

Curses upon curses! says Gaius. 

Fortunately, I thought of that, says Vello. Belle has them.

Belle appears with three takeaway coffees.

You made it! says Belle. Well done.

Guess what? says Terence.

I see what, says Belle. You've recovered your hat.

Hello, Belle, says Gaius. Did you pack up our bicycles?

Done, says Belle. And I got rid of the spiders.

In the circumstances, Gaius does not ask her how.

A muffled announcement: 'The flight to Doha has commenced boarding'.

What was that? asks Vello. It was muffled.

Boarding, says Belle. Come on. Call up your e-tickets. Let's go.

>>>>

Meanwhile in Bilbao.

Sweezus, Arthur and Ranger Roger (their new domestique) are enjoying the night life.

They are in a brightly lit cafe, wearing Basque berets, eating marmitaka and goxus, and drinking Basque wine.

Peter Sagan is at another table with a few of his team mates.

Mark Cavendish is at another, with his buddy Mark Renshaw.

Marx enters, followed by journalists, and photographers.

Who do you think will win this year's Tour? asks a journalist.

The last man standing, says Marx,

A hush falls.

Mark Cavendish and Peter Sagan look across at one another.

Marx! says Sweezus. Come and join us. 

Marx comes over.

You're commentating this year? asks Sweezus. 

I am, says Marx. The powers that be thought I'd bring a new perspective.

Yeah? Like what? asks Sweezus.

My views on competition, says Marx. 

What are they? asks Ranger Roger.

Who are you? asks Marx. 

Our new guy, says Sweezus. He's an all-rounder and an average poet.

Ranger Roger looks modest.

Very good, says Marx. By the way, has Team Philosophe turned up yet?

Arriving early next morning, says Sweezus. They'll be totally knackered. But that's good for us.

I see you were in the preliminary ride through Bilbao, says Marx. Nice berets. Especially yours, Arthur.

Arthur adjusts his nice beret and wipes tuna bouillabaisse from his chin, 

And a blob of custard cake from the rim of his wine glass.

Competition? says Arthur.

Marx assumes he is asking him to answer Ranger Roger's question.

Essential, says Marx.

Good? asks Arthur.

Bad, says Marx. The principle is the negation of itself.

Marx may well be correct.

But it's the start of the Tour, and no one is in a mood to even try and puzzle it out.

Gods Of Speed And Luck

 A truck slows down and stops.

Any chance of a lift into Adelaide? asks Gaius.

The truck driver makes an assessment. 

Two men, no longer young, with backpacks. An infant, in a knitted Peruvian hat.

Okay, hop in, says the driver.

They squeeze into the front seat, beside him, Terence on Pierre-Louis's lap.

What's your story? asks the driver.

We're going to Bilbo, says Terence. We have to hurry.

Bilbao, says Gaius. But Terence is right. We must get to Adelaide airport before seven.

You'll be lucky, says the driver.

That's good, says Terence.

I mean you'll have to be lucky, says the driver. It's cutting it fine. Once we hit Adelaide there's traffic.

We must trust to the gods, says Gaius.

Ha ha, laughs Pierre-Louis. Which ones?

Mercury and Fortuna, says Gaius.

Go on, says Terence.

Go on what? asks Gaius.

Ask them, says Terence. O gods let us have what we want.

O gods let the driver drive fast enough to get us to the Adelaide Airport before seven, says Gaius. That would be more specific.

O gods let the traffic be sparse, says Pierre-Louis.

You guys believe in that stuff? asks the driver.

No, says Gaius. 

No, says Pierre-Louis. 

Yes, says Terence. I always get what I ask for.

You don't, says Gaius. 

I got a red sandwich on the train, says Terence.

I hope you didn't eat it, says Gaius. 

I would have, but the train stopped and we all had to leave the café and Albertine took it, says Terence.

Does that count as you always getting what you want? asks the driver.

Terence thinks. It's a good question. He got it. But then he lost it. Whose fault was that?

The truck passes through Keith and Tintinara.

We're making good time, says the truck driver.

Excellent, says Gaius. 

Bilbao, here we come! says Pierre-Louis.

Why d'you want to go there? asks the driver.

The Tour de France starts from there, says Gaius. We have the privilege of being in it. It starts this Saturday

Sheeeeez! says the driver. Shouldn't you be there already?

Probably, admits Gaius

Unknown to him (or anyone), Mercury and Fortuna are observing.

Shall we? says Mercury.

Let's, says Fortuna. She smiles.

The driver speeds up imperceptibly, because he was already going quite fast.

Murray Bridge, Mount Barker and onto the freeway, through the Heysen Tunnel, onto Glen Osmond Road....and why is there so little traffic? 

And at last, at ten minutes to seven, the truck stops at the airport passenger setdown.

Our lucky heroes get out. 

Mercury and Fortuna now turn their attentions elsewhere.

She Flew Like A Lamb

The train stops.

The duty manager comes running.

What's happened? asks the duty manager.

A live bat in the café car, says the café assistant. This woman pressed the button before I could stop her.

A live BAT! cries the duty assistant. Clear the café!

That shouldn't be necessary, says Gaius. I'll take charge of Squattu.

No, you won't, snaps the duty manager. Go back to your seat, sir. I'll deal with it.

She's harmless, says Gaius. And come to think of it, she should be asleep. Why is she awake, Terence?

She's giving up being nocturnal, says Terence.

Dear me, says Gaius. This may be our fault. 

If this is your bat, the whole affair is your fault, says the duty manager.

Can I say something? asks Squattu.

NO! says the duty manager. Stay there with your apple. Everyone else, please leave in an orderly fashion.

Everyone else shuffles out, including Albertine and her mother.

Gaius decides that the best thing to do is leave too, and wait until until reason prevails.

Bye Squatty, says Terence. I'll rescue you later.

No need, says Squattu. I'll ask them to let me out of a window.

Then what? asks Terence.

Fly home, says Squattu. 

Good plan, says Terence.

And that would be that, except for the strict rules of inter-state train travel

Head office is informed. The upshot of which is that Gaius, Pierre-Louis and Terence must leave the train when it stops next, in Bordertown.

Bordertown.

The train stops. 

The duty manager sees Gaius, Pierre-Louis and Terence off the train.

I'm very sorry about this, says the duty manager. I only just learned that you're the ecological warrior with the broken leg and deceased grandfather.

Not the broken leg, says Gaius.

That was me, says Pierre-Louis. And it was some time ago.

That's a relief, says the duty manager. What will you do now?

We'll try and hitch a ride back to Adelaide, says Gaius. 

Take care, says the duty manager. And by the way, your bat was very compliant. She flew out of the window like a lamb.

Woo! says Terence.

The train is about to depart. 

Toot toot! It starts moving.

Terence thinks he sees Albertine at a window.  

She is holding up something. His red sandwich. 

Bumhole! Goodbye red sandwich.

Ring ring! Gaius's phone rings. It's Vello.

Where are you? asks Vello.

Bordertown, says Gaius. Unfortunately we've been put off the train.

We're flying out this evening! says Vello. If you're not at the airport by seven we're toast.

We'll be there, says Gaius. Could you see to our bicycles?

Get Arthur to do it, says Vello. 

But he's in a rival team, says Gaius. 

True, says Vello. Well, I'll ask Belle. As if she hasn't enough things to do.

Thanks, Vello, says Gaius.

Just be there at seven, says Vello.

Gaius, Pierre-Louis and Terence head across to the highway, to flag down a ride.

The Red Sandwich

 Albertine, Terence and Squattu have not gone very far up the train.

They have stopped at the café car.

They look at the items for sale behind the glass counter.

Are you going to buy anything? asks the café attendant.

We don't have any money, says Albertine.

Then you should go back to your parents, says the café attendant.

A man standing behind them has been listening.

What would you like? asks the man.

......

Albertine's mother looks at her watch. 

How long has her daughter been gone?

She went off with that boy half an hour ago.

And his toy bat.

Perhaps they have got up to mischief.

She leaves her seat and walks down the carriage.

Gaius has also stood up. 

He is wondering what has happened to Terence.

Gaius is walking faster than Albertine's mother.

He doesn't like to push past, but...

Excuse me, madam, says Gaius. My young charge has gone missing.

So has my daughter, says Albertine's mother. Is your charge wearing a knitted Peruvian hat, with side flaps?

Yes! says Gaius. That is he. It seems we are on the same mission.

We are, says Albertine's mother. Let's go together.

They progress though the train.

Returning to Adelaide? asks Albertine's mother. Or going?

Returning, says Gaius. We have been in the Central Highlands, looking for Leadbeater's possums.

Find any? asks Albertine's mother.

We did, says Gaius. No thanks to our drone.

Did it keep getting stuck in the trees? asks Albertine's mother.

Once or twice, says Gaius. We had better success with the fruit bat.

You were looking for fruit bats? asks Albertine's mother. I thought they were abundant.

They are, says Gaius. Our fruit bat acted as an assistant. She located several hollows which were home to ....

But the penny has dropped.

You don't mean to say that the fruit bat with our children is real? says Albertine's mother.

Well, yes, says Gaius. But fear not. I shared an apple with the fruit bat, unwittingly, or, I ought to admit it, carelessly, and suffered no ill effects. Thus I conclude that the fruit bat is not infected with a virus.

Nevertheless, says Albertine's mother, I feel I should report you.

I would prefer that you didn't, says Gaius. 

I'm sure you would, says Albertine's mother.

They have now reached the café car.

Albertine, Terence and Squattu are in the corner.

Albertine has a chocolate milk and a packet of cheese-and-crackers. Terence has a red sandwich.

Squattu has an apple.

Albertine's mother fears the worst. 

Is there an emergency button? asks Albertine's mother.

Yes ma'am, says the café assistant, but may I ask...?

Too late.

 Albertines mother has pressed it.

Albertiz-Albertizent

Gaius and Pierre-Louis are enjoying their baked beans, spinach and feta omelette.

Terence is bored.

Is this the same journey backwards? asks Terence.

Yes, says Squattu. Train journeys are always like that.

How do you know? asks Terence.

Trains run on tracks, says Squattu. Bat's see them coming and going.

You're lucky, says Terence. You were sleeping last time. 

Yes I was, says Squattu. But right now I don't feel sleepy.

That's good, says Terence. Maybe you're giving up being nocturnal.

Maybe I am, says Squattu.

Lets go up and down the carriage in our white cloaks, says Terence.

What for? asks Squattu.

To see how long you can  stay awake for, says Terence.

It seems like a good reason.

Gaius and Pierre-Louis are still eating their sourdough toast.

I'm not fond of sourdough toast, says Gaius.

It's not my favourite either, agrees Pierre-Louis.

They don't even notice that Terence and Squattu have gone.

Three seats down the carriage a foot sticks out.

Terence trips over it.

Ha ha, laughs the foot owner.

Why did you do that? asks Terence.

I'm bored, says the foot owner, a girl. What are you wearing that cloak for?

It's a towel, says Terence. 

It's dirty, says the girl. Don't you know white shows the dirt?

Don't you know you've got food on your face? says Terence. White stuff and red stuff and grumps.

What are grumps? asks the girl, rubbing her face and making it worse.

Grainy lumps? suggests Squattu. Terence has put two words together. He's a good poet

Is that your bat toy? asks the girl.

No, says Terence. It's my parrot.

What two words have you put together to make parrot? asks the girl.

Pee and arrot, says Terence. What's your name?  

Albertine, says the girl.

That's a boy's name, says Terence.

No it isn't says Albertine. Albert is, Albertine isn't. 

You put two words together, says Terence. Albertiz-Albertizent.

Not exactly, says Albertine. Want to hang out? We could try to get to the front of the train.

Wipe your face first, Albertine, says Albertine's mother.

She hands her daughter a tissue.

Okay maman, says Albertine, wiping her face with the tissue.

She, Terence and Squattu head off down the carriage towards the front of the train.

Yay! The journey has stopped being boring.

No More Extinctions

Terence and Squattu have returned to the Batman's Hotel.

They have gone up in the lift to the third floor.

They have found the door of the room in which Gaius and Pierre-Louis are sleeping.

Terence has knocked on the door.

Will they be angry with us? asks Squattu.

No, says Terence. We'll just say we heard noises.

Okay, says Squattu.

Gaius opens the door looking bleary.

Why are you outside the room? asks Gaius. 

We heard noises, says Terence.

And found a hat? says Gaius.

Yes, says Terence. My long-lost Peruvian hat.

I won't ask further questions, says Gaius. It's fortunate you woke us so early. We don't want to be late for the train.

He and Pierre-Louis are ready in minutes. 

They go down in the lift. There's no one at Reception, to notice the boy and the bat with their white hotel towels.

They leave.

They cross the road to the Southern Cross station, and head to the ticket office.

Are you Rebecca? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Rebecca. Are you the ecological warrior, with the broken leg and the deceased grandfather?

Two out of three, says Gaius. Although the first one is debatable. I am beginning to doubt my....

No broken leg, says Rebecca. That's strange.

Perhaps the broken leg refers to me, says Pierre Louis. I broke my leg once.

I broke my finger, says Terence. And some of my side curls came off.

Rebecca leans forward. 

Terence shows her his claw-instead-of-a-finger. 

He takes off his Peruvian hat.

Oh! says Rebecca. You look like baby Jesus, when you take off the hat.

Terence puts it on again.

Well, here are your tickets, says Rebecca. And we at the Overland are sorry for your loss.

Very kind, says Gaius. We have indeed had some losses. But we live in hopes of future victory.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis.  No more extinctions.

Yay! says Terence. What are they?

You know, whispers Squattu.

Is that a fruit bat? asks Rebecca. No one mentioned you had a fruit bat.

No, says Terence. 

Holy Mackerel! squeaks Squattu.

Rebecca is disarmed. The bat talks! It must be an expensive toy

She waves them towards the correct platform.

They find the right carriage. 

And settle into their Red Premium seats.

Toot Toot.

The Overland train rolls out of Melbourne.

The Future Of Hills

Next poem! shouts someone.

Squattu whips off her white towel.

Go Squatty! says Terence. 

Is that a fruit bat? asks a different person.

It's with us, says Tommy Zoom. And it wants to give us a poem. Quiet, all!

The Drunken Poet crowd falls silent.

The Lost Hill, says Squattu.

We came to look for a hill/for good or for ill/ and we are here still/ for good or for ill/ but find it we will.

A bat poem, says Tommy Zoom. There you have it.

Is it based on anything? asks the person who asked if Squattu was a fruit bat.

Yes, Mildred, says Lorna, it is.

What? asks the person named Mildred.

The boy and the bat are on a quest, says Lorna. They were staying at Batman's Hill on Collins, when they learned that the hill was removed.

Yes, says Terence. And Tommy Zoom said that someone here knows where they took it.

I said someone MIGHT know, says Tommy Zoom.

How about O'Hea Street? says Mildred. That's steep.

As if, says a person in lycra.

Oh? says Mildred.

As if they'd move a whole hill holus bolus, says the person in lycra. The O'Hea Street hill's always been where it is.

Yeah, says someone in a Weezer tee shirt. Don't you reckon if they removed a hill they'd have done it in parts?

Prob--ly, slurs someone.

My partner's a Jim, says a woman in green.

Meaning? asks Mildred.

Meaning he'd know what would happen to a hill that was removed, says the green woman.

Call him, says Mildred.

Okay, says the green woman.

Another round? asks the guy in the Weezer.

Count me out, says Tommy Zoom.

The green woman is hushing everyone with hand movemenrts.

Her Jim must be talking.

Jim reckons they'd've used it for public gardens. says the green woman, So it would have ended up all spread out.

There you go, says Lorna. It's not O'Hea Street.

That O'Hea Street's a freakin' steep street, says the guy in the lycra. Thirty percent gradient!

Cyclists. Always going on about gradients.

Our hill's been spread out, says Terence.

Yes, says Squattu. We'll never find it.

Let's go back, says Terence. Do you remember the way?

I'm a bat, says Squattu. I always remember.

Terence gets down from the stool, Squattu from the table.

Here, says Mildred. Your fruit bat left its cloak on the table.

Thanks, says Terence.

Isn't that Tommy Zoom's hat you're wearing? asks Mildred.

No, says Terence. It's mine.

He and Squattu leave the Drunken Poet, and head back towards Batman's on Collins.

That was fruitless says Squattu.

At least I got my hat back, says Terence

The Frailty Of Human Life

Night time in Melbourne..

Terence walks and walks.

Squattu flies above him. 

They both wear white cloaks.

From behind they look like one white towel walking, and a smaller one flying.

See that? asks someone.

Let's catch up, says their companion.

They soon catch up.

The first person dodges in front of Terence.

What are you dressed up as? asks the person.

He looks familiar.

Not him exactly, but his hat.

What are YOU dressed up as? asks Terence.

I asked first, says the person in the familiar hat.

I'm dressed up as Batman, says Terence. And Squatty is too.

Batman never wore a white cloak, says the person.

It's a towel, says Terence. Hotels only have white ones.

Fair enough, says the first person's companion. Come on, Tommy, let's go.

Wait! says Terence. Can I borrow your hat?

No way, kid, says Tommy.

Let him, says his companion. It might fit him better.

Tommy lends Terence his hat.

Terence puts it on and remembers.

This is Tommy Zoom. And this is his long-lost Peruvian hat!

My long-lost Peruvian hat! says Terence,

Blow me down! says Tommy Zoom. Are you Terence? You haven't grown much in the last eight years. Lorna, it's Terence.

So it is! says Lorna. What are you doing out here at night?

With a fruit bat, says Tommy Zoom.

We're looking for Batman's Hill, says Terence.

Back that way, on Collins Street, says Tommy Zoom.

It's not there, says Terence. They removed it.

Come with us, then, says Tommy Zoom. We'll help you find it.

Tommy! says Lorna.

The guys in the Drunken Poet will know where the hill is if anyone does, says Tommy Zoom.

Yay! says Terence. Will they let Squatty in?

They let anyone in, says Tommy Zoom.

Soon Terence is sitting on a high stool at a table in the Drunken Poet. 

He is wearing his white cloak and his long lost Peruvian hat.

Squattu is nearby on a table. From most angles she looks like a white napkin.

Someone give us a poem! cries one of Tommy Zoom's drunken friends.

Tommy Zoom starts reciting the Wild Swans at Coole.

It's long, and at the end the drunken friends ponder the message.

It's about the frailty of human life, says Tommy Zoom, looking over at Terence. Whereas some of us.... 

Terence thinks Tommy Zoom means it's his turn.

A dog has died..... begins Terence.

Everyone listens. It's a good follow-up to the Wild Swans at Coole.

Squattu sighs. 

Why has no one yet mentioned the hill?

White-Cloaked

Tomorrow, you say? says Pierre-Louis.

Yes, tomorrow, says Gaius. Which means we spend a cold night.

Not necessarily, says Pierre-Louis. We could stay in a hotel.

That would be costly, says Gaius.

I want to! cries Terence. And so does Squatty.

I've never stayed in a hotel says Squattu.

You get white towels, says Terence.

Squattu thinks that sounds nice.

Perhaps a back packers, says Gaius. There's bound to be one close to the station.

He takes out his phone.

Yes, eighty one dollars for a bed in a 16-bed dorm with shared bathroom. How about that?

Eighty one dollars each? says Pierre-Louis. Try a proper hotel.

Batman's Hill On Collins, says Gaius. One hundred and five dollars. Two guests.

Book it. We'll go halves, says Pierre-Louis.

Batman's Hill On Collins is directly opposite the Southern Cross Station.

They check in and go up to their room.

Put down their back packs.

Look out of the window.

City lights sparkle. Traffic flows by.

Batman's Hill? says Pierre-Louis. It's flat as a pancake.

Maybe Batman destroyed it, says Squattu. Wham! Blam! 

It wouldn't be that Batman, says Gaius. He is a fictional character, and couldn't destroy a real hill.

Pierre-Louis takes out his phone.

Batman's Hill, says Pierre-Louis. Named after the adventurer and grazier John Batman, founder of Melbourne. The hill was eighteen metres high, but has since been removed.

Where is it now? asks Squattu.

It doesn't say, says Pierre-Louis.

Shall we skip dinner? says Gaius. We'll get a luxurious breakfast on the train in the morning.

All right, says Pierre-Louis. 

They take turns in the bathroom, then climb into their respective beds.

Soon they are snoring. Hnuh-phnoooor!

They're asleep, whispers Terence. Want to go looking?

What for? asks Squattu.

The hill, says Terence. It has to be somewhere.

Okay, says Squattu. But first can we look at the towels?

Okay, says Terence. They'll be in the bathroom

He tiptoes into the bathroom. Squattu follows.

Two wet towels lie on the floor. 

Two smaller towels hang on a towel rack.

These dry ones are ours, says Terence.

Can we take them? asks Squattu. 

Yes, says Terence. We can wear them like cloaks.

Mine's too big for me, says Squattu.

Terence can see that she's right.

But there are many sizes of hotel towels. Next to the vanity basin are two folded-up face-cloths.

Neither Gaius nor Pierre- Louis has used them.

Have one of those! whispers Terence.

Attired in white cloaks, they slip out of the room, down the stairs and out into the dark Melbourne evening, to look for the hill.

Piffle To A Wallet

Did Arthur buy return tickets? asks Pierre-Louis. 

I imagine so, says Gaius. But where would I have put them?

Won't they be on your phone? asks Pierre-Louis.

Yes, of course, says Gaius. 

He checks his old emails.

hum... hum... hum...

You should get one of those wallets, says Pierre-Louis.

Piffle, says Gaius. Aha! Here they are! Two return tickets. But curses! They've expired.

We'll have to book new tickets, says Pierre-Louis.

Not so fast, says Gaius. I'm sure Arthur can sort it.

He calls Arthur.

Hello Gaius, says Arthur. Are you on your way home?

We're trying, says Gaius. But the return tickets you bought have expired.

And you want me to fix it, says Arthur.

If you would, says Gaius. We need to come home.

I'll get back to you, says Arthur.

What's up with Gaius? asks Sweezus.

His train ticket's expired, says Arthur. He wants me to fix it.

Stingy old bugger, says Sweezus. Are you going to?

Might as well try, says Arthur. 

The truth is, he likes this sort of thing.

He calls the Overland Office, and spins them a story.

Gaius, an ecological warrior, was doing important work on extinctions in the central highlands when the accident happened, and he broke his leg. He was out there in the cold for several days, surviving only thanks to his companion, but tragically they have now missed their return trip to Adelaide on the Overland train. Why tragically? Because they have just heard that Gaius' grandfather has died.

How terrible! says the admin person. I'll see what I can do. Stay with me....Yes, we've had a  cancellation.

Two cancellations? asks Arthur.

Yes a double, says the admin. And there'll be no charge, as it's for compassionate reasons. I'll change the date on the tickets. Tell them to come to the station an hour before departure and see me. Ask for Rebecca.

Thanks, Rebecca, says Arthur.

He calls Gaius.

Well? asks Gaius.

You're booked on the Overland tomorrow, says Arthur. Go to the office and ask for Rebecca.

What would I do without you? says Gaius.

Pay for new tickets, says Arthur.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. 

One thing, says Arthur. They think your grandfather died.

What? says Gaius. He died long ago. 

Just go along with it, says Arthur. And limp a bit.

I don't see why, says Gaius. But I will, if I remember. Thanks Arthur.

What's this you have to do? asks Pierre-Louis.

Limp a bit, says Gaius.

Probably so that they recognise you, says Pierre-Louis.

That will be it, says Gaius.

Trick Muscles

Gaius returns to Batman Park, where he left Pierre-Louis and Terence.

Did you return the blanket? asks Pierre-Louis.

I did, says Gaius. 

Any problems? asks Pierre-Louis.

No, says Gaius. The student who occupies the room was glad to have it.

Did he not have a blanket? asks Pierre-Louis.

He had one, says Gaius, and now he has two.

Marx wouldn't think much of that, says Pierre-Louis.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. He wouldn't!

Guess what? says Terence.

What? says Gaius.

Look up! says Terence.

Gaius looks up.

Squattu is hanging upside down in a tree.

Why is she up there? asks Gaius. 

She woke up, says Terence.

You woke her, says Pierre-Louis.

And she wanted to show me a trick, says Terence.

And this is it? says Gaius. She seems to have fallen asleep again.

She's pretending, says Terence.

Yes I am, says Squattu. 

What was the trick? asks Gaius.

Sleeping upside down, says Terence.

All fruit bats can do it, says Gaius. They have special muscles designed to lock on to a branch. Then they can hang upside down without using much energy.

Woo, says Terence. Have I got them?

No, says Gaius. And I doubt whether you could develop them.

You could develop them, says Squattu. I could show you.

Come down, says Gaius. I want to ask you a question

Okay, says Squattu.

Why do bats say Holy Mackerel? asks Gaius.

We says Holy other things as well, says Squattu.

Holy Bumhole? says Terence.

Not Holy Bumhole, says Squattu. That's rude.

Will you answer? asks Gaius.

Batman and Robin, says Squattu. We all watch it. And Robin says Holy Mackerel Batman! when he's surprised.

I see, says Gaius. 

He is in two minds whether or not to write this down. 

Squattu could be pulling his leg.

The Return Of Marx's Blanket

Gaius finds the building Marx stayed in for the Marxism Conference.

He goes in.

He goes up the stairs. Which room was it? 

Ah yes, this one.

He knocks. 

A student opens the door.

Are you missing a blanket? asks Gaius.

No, says the student. When I moved in I was, but they found me another one.

You're in luck, says Gaius. Here is the one that was missing.

No kidding, says the student. That's awesome. It's cold here at night.

Not as cold as it was where I and my colleaues have just been, says Gaius. The Central Highlands.

Yeah? says the student. How come there are no dead leaves on the blanket?

It's been laundered, says Gaius. And there was more on it than simply dead leaves.

I don't need to know that, says the student.

No, you don't, says Gaius. We never really knew what it was ourselves. Some sort of pink stuff. Irrelevant in any case. We were looking for endangered Leadbeater's possums.

Find any? asks the student.

A few, says Gaius. 

Are they those small ones? asks the student,

Very small, says Gaius. And interestingly, the young ones are open to new ideas, whereas their parents are not.

Tell me about it, says the student, thinking of his own parents.

It's encouraging to see you have an interest, says Gaius, but I must get back to my colleagues. We need to return to Adelaide as soon as possible.

Okay, thanks for the blanket, says the student.

Marx lent it to me, says Gaius. I imagine you've heard of him.

Did he use it? asks the student.

He stayed in this room, says Gaius. So I imagine he used it. 

Karl Marx? says the student. I'm definitely using this blanket.

A hero of yours? asks Gaius.

Yeah...kind of, says the student. He's famous.

Then you'll be interested to know that he's commentating on this year's Tour de France.

Cool, says the student. When is that?

Gaius is surprised.

I thought everyone knew when the Tour de France was, says Gaius.

Only kidding, says the student. I'll be glued to it. I always download the live app.

That's more like it, says Gaius. Enjoy your extra blanket.

The student shuts the door. 

Unrolls the blanket.

A red blanket with a pale pink patch.

He sniffs it.

It just smells like wool.

Impartial Or Miffed

The bus arrives in Melbourne.

Gaius, Pierre-Louis and Terence get off. 

How far is it to the University? asks Pierre-Louis.

Not far, says Gaius. But we don't all need to go.

I'll take Terence to a park, says Pierre-Louis.

And Squatty, says Terence.

Squattu's in my back pack, says Gaius.

I thought she was in mine, says Pierre-Louis.You've got the blanket.

Have I? asks Gaius. 

He checks.

Yes, he has the blanket.

Pierre-Louis looks in his back pack.

Yes, there is Squattu, fast asleep.

Let's go! says Terence.

They part.

Gaius walks to the University. 

It occurs to him that Marx may no longer be there.

Why not call him?

Ring ring.

Marx here, says Marx. 

It's Gaius, says Gaius. Are you by any chance still in Melbourne? I'm returning your blanket.

It was a communal blanket, says Marx. And no. I'm in Adelaide, preparing to fly to Bilbao.

What a coincidence, says Gaius. This year the Tour de France starts from Bilbao.

That's why I'm going, says Marx.

You're not in it? asks Gaius. 

No, I'm not in it, says Marx, I'm commentating. They wanted someone impartial.

Excellent, says Gaius. Well, I'll just drop off this blanket.

Is it clean? asks Marx.

Clean enough, says Gaius. It was washed yesterday evening, and only draped over me lightly last night.

In a forest? asks Marx. Have you picked the dead leaves off?

In a house, says Gaius. The house of the mother of Team Condor's new rider, Ranger Roger.

I didn't know they needed a new rider, says Marx.

They did, says Gaius. I even thought of recommending you. Sweezus seemed interested. But then they chose Ranger Roger. 

Me? says Marx. I suppose this Ranger Roger chap is younger.

And a reasonable poet, says Gaius.

Ha ha! laughs Marx. That rules me out.

I couldn't see why it mattered, says Gaius, But he is replacing Pablo. And I know they like to have poetry competitions, during the long flat stretches.

Do they indeed? says Marx. Duly noted.

Well, see you in Bilbao, says Gaius. 

Yes, comrade, says Marx.

Gaius continues towards Melbourne University. So Marx is to be a commentator. Perhaps it was unwise to have mentioned certain things. Such as how Ranger Roger got chosen. Marx may be miffed. But surely not. He is a reasonable person. Look how he asked that question about the dead leaves......

Old Guys Always Talking

I'm in! says Ranger Roger.

Well done, says Gaius. So Arthur approved of your poem.

He said it's not bad for a newbie, says Ranger Roger.

High praise, indeed, says Gaius.

Is it? says Ranger Roger. 

I'd say so, says Gaius.

Team Condor, says Ranger Roger. How lucky am I?

Very lucky, dear, says Janet. 

I have to pay for my ticket to Bilbao, says Ranger Roger.

Arthur usually gets special rates, says Gaius. Better check with him first.

And what about your kit? asks Janet. Will that be provided?

I don't know, says Ranger Roger. 

You can probably wear Pablo's old outfit, says Gaius. You look the same size. 

It's green and brown frog colours, says Terence.

I know says Ranger Roger. With an ovoid pocket. 

So you look like a frog, says Terence. 

Janet takes a big box of Weetbix out of the pantry, and sets out some bowls.

There's milk in the fridge, says Janet. 

Very kind, says Gaius. 

Pierre-Louis takes three Weetbix, and pours the milk on.

Yes we must be off early, says Gaius, doing the same.

They finish breakfast, thank Janet, and head for the bike shop to return the hired bikes and the carriage.

Nice trip? asks the bike guy. 

Very successful, says Gaius. 

I'll just check the bikes, says the bike guy.

The bikes seem okay.

The carriage is littered with apple cores, and smells of native animals.

Apologies, says Gaius. He picks up the apple cores and looks for a bin.

You heading back to Melbourne? asks the bike guy.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. Then Adelaide. Then over to Spain for the Tour de France.

Sheez! says the bike guy. You guys get around. 

We're in it, says Terence. And so's Ranger Roger.

No way! says the bike guy. Not Ranger Roger! I know him!

He'll be joining us in Adelaide to meet his new team, says Gaius. 

What team's that? asks the bike guy.

Team Condor, says Gaius.

But that's not your team, says the bike guy.

We're with Team Philosophe, says Pierre-Louis. A high prestige team of philosophers.

Yeah right, says the bike guy. Old guys. Always talking. Never made it to the podium.

You know us? says Gaius.

I always watch it, says the bike guy. Want to know who I go for?

Who? asks Terence.

The Pog, says the bike guy.

Well we mustn't miss our bus , says Gaius.

Good luck, says the bike guy.

Prawn Head

Ranger Roger wakes early, and writes down his poem.

The one he composed in his dream.

He tries to read it as though he was Arthur, seeing it for the first time.

But he doesn't know Arthur, or what Arthur would think of the theme

Is it done? asks Squattu.

I think so, says Ranger Roger. But...

Let me see it, says Squattu.

She reads: I Don't Have A Dog. The dog I don't have.... (etcetera)

That's good, says Squattu. Don't worry so much. Send it!

Okay, says Ranger Roger. 

He sends his poem to the number Sweezus gave him for Arthur.

It's five thirty in the morning, in Adelaide. 

Dark, and cold.

Arthur is sleeping on Sweezus's couch. 

Sweezus stumbles out of his bedroom. 

Wake up bro! 

Wuuh! says Arthur.

You look green, says Sweezus.

So do you, says Arthur.

Too bad, says Sweezus. I'll make us a coffee.

Ding! Arthur's phone.

A message from an unknown number.

About someone's dog.

Weird scam, says Arthur.

Yeah? What? asks Sweezus. 

Trying to sell me a dog, says Arthur.

Just delete it. No! Shit! Wait, says Sweezus. Is it kind of .....a poem?

Arthur reads it properly.

Yes, says Arthur. Kind of like one. It's got possums and eggs. Pathos. And a repetition. 

Let me see, says Sweezus. I know what this is.

What? says Arthur.

That guy who wants to replace Pablo in Team Condor, says Sweezus. 

He thinks he's a poet? says Arthur. 

Yeah well not exactly,  says Sweezus. I told him to write a poem about a dog and send it to you.

You prawn head, says Arthur. 

Yeah well, he seemed too good to be true, says Sweezus. Like he was channeling Cadel Evans. Telling me about his lung capacity and all that stuff. 

So we're rejecting him, says Arthur.

No way, says Sweezus. I just thought, he sounds like a bit of a fuckwit, and we should make him sweat.

Okay, says Arthur. Want me to tell him it needs a re-write? 

No, it's not that bad, says Sweezus. 

If you understand dogs, says Arthur.

Yes, and I do, says Sweezus. I'm still not over Farky.

Coffee, says Arthur. And a ride up Mount Lofty. That's what you need.

You're right bro, says Sweezus.

He heats up the water. 

Arthur replies to Ranger Roger.

Not bad for a newbie. Congrats. You've squeaked in.

The Dog I Don't Have

Ranger Roger has not gone to bed.

He is sitting at a desk with the light on.

He has a pencil, and paper. And an eraser. 

But nothing to rub out.

Can we help? asks Squattu.

Yeah, I just can't get started, says Ranger Roger. 

That's because you don't have a dog, says Terence.

Makes it harder, agrees Ranger Roger.

Write about not having a dog, says Squattu. They say you should write what you know.

Is a poem about not having a dog the same as a poem about a dog? asks Ranger Roger.

Don't overthink it, says Squattu. 

Okay, says Ranger Roger. I'll start with the title: I Don't Have A Dog.

That's good, says Terence. Now what?

Maybe say why, says Squattu.

I'm a Ranger, says Ranger Roger. We're not allowed them. Not at work anyway. They stress native animals.

It's already a poem, says Squattu.

No it isn't, says Terence. It's a boring old answer.

Let me think, says Ranger Roger. How can I make it rhyme?

Dog and bog, says Terence.

Where would the bog come in? asks Ranger Roger.

At the end, stupid, says Terence. I don't have a dog / it fell into a bog

You know Arthur, says Ranger Roger. What would he think of that?

He would laugh and laugh, says Terence.

That's not what I'm aiming for, says Ranger Roger.

He writes something. And then rubs it out.

Turn the light out, says Squattu. Something might come.

I am kind of tired, says Ranger Roger.

He turns out the light and gets into bed.

He soon falls asleep. 

What are we meant to do? whispers Terence.

Can you write? asks Squattu. We could put down some ideas.

Of course I can, says Terence. If it's letters I know.

Which are? says Squattu. 

T and P says Terence. And B.

No vowels. That makes it hard.

But in the end it doesn't matter.

Ranger Roger dreams up his own poem.

The dog I don't have waits for me to come home/  he wags his tail thump thump sniff/ I smell of possums and eggs/ who's a good boy then/ not me. The dog I don't have waits for his dinner looking expectant/ what's for dinner sniff dry biscuits again/ who's a good boy then/ not me.

Not bad.

Let's hope he remembers it in the morning.

Lightning And Vomit

It's almost midnight.

How's your phone? asks Ranger Roger.

All charged up, says Gaius. And the blanket's dry. We should turn in.

I might sleep on the couch, says Pierre-Louis.

Janet fetches a blanket.

Could you call the guy who needs a team member? asks Ranger Roger.

It's a bit late, says Gaius. He might be in bed.

Go on, says Pierre-Louis. If he's asleep he won't answer.

All right, says Gaius. 

He calls Sweezus.

Hey! says Sweezus. 

I hope I didn't wake you, says Gaius.

No I'm in a bar, says Sweezus. It's kind of noisy. Speak up.

Any luck finding a new team member? asks Gaius.

Not yet, says Sweezus. 

We've found a candidate, says Gaius. A local ranger.

Yeah? says Sweezus. What's his name? 

Ranger Roger, says Gaius.

Cool, says Sweezus. How old is he?

I don't know, says Gaius. Would you like to speak to him? He's right here.

Okay, says Sweezus. Put him on.

Hi, says Ranger Roger. Sorry for the late hour.

No worries, says Sweezus. Okay, what're your credentials?

Ranger Roger starts listing the mountain bike, cyclo-cross and road races he's won.

Sprinter or climber? asks Sweezus.

Both, says Ranger Roger. I have above average lung volume and capacity.

Creative? asks Sweezus. 

Uh? says Ranger Roger.

He hadn't expected this question.

Like, you'd be replacing Pablo Neruda, says Sweezus. 

He wasn't that fast, says Ranger Roger.

But a heaps good poet, says Sweezus. Do you have a dog?

No, says Ranger Roger. Why is that relevant?

Write a poem about a dog, says Sweezus. Send it to me. No, send it to Arthur. Get Gaius to give you his number. If Arthur likes it, you're in.

Okay, says Ranger Roger, trying to sound confident.

And you'd have to pay for your ticket to Bilbao, says Sweezus.

Sure, says Ranger Roger. Thank you. Okay.

On that note, the call ends.

What did he say? asks Janet.

I have to write a poem about a dog, says Ranger Roger. And if they like it, I'm in.

Well done, says Gaius.

I know a poem about a dog, says Terence. A dead one.

Perhaps you'd like to help Roger, says Janet.

Okay, says Terence. How about this? A dog has died. I buried it in the garden...

No, says Gaius. Don't start with that. Sweezus would recognise Terence's influence.

This is hard, says Ranger Roger. I didn't think being creative would be that important.

You can do it, Roger, says Janet. You were quite good at English in school.

Seems I have to impress someone called Arthur, says Roger. 

Oh, Arthur, says Gaius. You won't impress him. His own poetry is highly unusual.

It's about boats, says Terence. And lightning, and vomit. 

And violet clots, says Pierre-Louis.

How do you know? asks Gaius.

I'm a Frenchman, says Pierre-Louis. 

Well good luck, Roger, says Gaius. I'm due for some sleep.

Bonne chance, Roger, says Pierre-Louis, taking his shoes off before putting his feet on the couch.

Goodnight everyone, says Janet

Roger goes to his bedroom followed by Terence and Squattu, who are planning to help. 

A Mouthful Of Petals

Would your bat like some fruit? asks Janet.

Why not ask her, says Gaius, taking a biscuit.

I would like a banana, says Squattu. Or a flower.

How sweet, says Janet. And she talks, too. That's unusual.

Have you got a banana? asks Squattu.

No, says Janet. But I have flowers in the garden. Would you like to go out?

Yes please, says Squattu.

Janet lets her out.

Thanks for giving us a bed for the night, says Pierre-Louis, 

You should thank Roger, says Janet. 

Would you mind if I recharge my phone? asks Gaius.

Go ahead, says Janet. I'll pop out and make sure your bat finds the right flowers.

Can I come with you? asks Terence.

Of course, dear, says Janet. 

She grabs a torch. She and Terence go out.

Can I carry the torch? asks Terence. 

Okay, says Janet. Go left, to the roses.

Terence goes right.

The other way, says Janet.

I know, says Terence. But I thought I saw Squatty.

I hope not, says Janet. That would mean she's in my veggie patch.

Squattu stops nibbling a bean shoot, and heads for the roses, of which there are few.

Ah! says Janet. There she is. Sorry there aren't very many. It's the end of the season.

Faffs ofay, says Squattu, her mouth full of petals.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. Faffs ofay!

Shall we go back inside? asks Janet. It's freezing out here. 

Not for me, says Terence.

You're funny little fellow, says Janet. 

I used to live on a palace, says Terence.

With your grandpa? asks Janet. 

No, says Terence. If he was there I wouldn't have had so much trouble.

Why is that? asks Janet.

Because grandpa knows everything, says Terence.

He must be a clever man, says Janet. But how does his knowing everything keep you out of trouble?

He'd know if Saint Joseph was going to hit me with a hammer, says Terence. 

Now I know you're making up stories, says Janet. 

And he'd take me to Melbourne, says Terence.

Hmm, says Janet. Where was this palace?

In Barcelona, says Terence.

That's a long way from Melbourne, says Janet.

I know, says Terence.

Finished! says Squattu.

They go back inside.

I think I'll turn in, says Gaius. Thanks for the tea and biscuits, Janet.

There's only one bed in the spare room, says Janet. And it isn't made up.

I'll use Marx's blanket, says Gaius.

He goes outside to get it, and brings it back in.

It's filthy! says Janet. What's that pink stuff?

They've been camping, says Ranger Roger.

It's going straight in the wash, says Janet.

She takes the blanket into the laundry.

So much for an early night, says Gaius. 

And so they end up talking cycling.

By the end of the heavy duty wash cycle, (two hours), and half an hour in the drier, Gaius and Pierre-Louis have learned all there is to know about the cycling credentials of Ranger Roger.

Prior To Death

This is mum's place, says Ranger Roger. 

He knocks on the door.

His mother opens.

Roger! 

Hi ma, says Ranger Roger. Don't freak out but, can these guys stay the night in your spare room?

Are they friends of yours? asks his mother.

Sure are, says Ranger Roger. This is Gaius and this is Pierre-Louis, and this little guy is Terence.

What a dear little boy, says his mother.

I wonder if I might use your toilet, says Gaius, whose cramps are increasing.

Of course, come in, says Ranger Roger's mother. Down the passage, second on the left.

Gaius hurries to that destination.

Has he eaten something bad? asks Ranger Roger's mother.

It may be the loaded hot dog he ate for dinner, says Pierre-Louis. Let's hope so. 

These guys are in this year's Tour de France, says Ranger Roger.

I thought the other one looked familiar, says his mother. 

He's been in it before, says Pierre-Louis. I haven't.

See, Roger? says his mother. There's always a first time.

Yes, says Ranger Roger. 

Roger has cycling ambitions, says his mother.

He's certainly fast, says Pierre-Louis. 

He is, and he has loads of endurance, says his mother.

You could  join Sweezus's team, says Terence. Then Grandpa wouldn't have to.

We haven't even asked your grandpa, says Pierre-Louis.

He won't want to, says Terence. He's busy.

Gaius returns, from the toilet.

That's better, says Gaius. I'm convinced it's not bat virus.

If it was, you'd be dead, says Ranger Roger's mother. 

I'm aware of that, dear lady, says Gaius. 

Or experiencing paralysis, delirium and convulsions, prior to death, says Roger's mother. By the way, call me Janet.

Do you know everything? asks Terence.

No, dear, says Janet. Now why don't you all come into the kitchen and sit down. I'll put the kettle on.

Can I bring Squatty? asks Terence.

Of course dear, says Janet. Is Squatty a puppy?

Squattu is a bat, ma, says Ranger Roger.

Oh, says Janet. Is it the offending one? 

Not at all, says Gaius. It wasn't her fault. I ate an apple she'd nibbled.

Is she well? asks Janet. Did you know less that one percent of bats in Australia carry lyssavirus? Only three people have died from it in this country.

No I didn't, says Gaius. My phone's out of battery.

You could have borrowed mine, says Pierre-Louis.

Sugar in your tea? asks Janet.

Terence comes in with Squattu.

Everyone looks at her.

She feels embarrassed.

Janet opens a packet of biscuits.

Sharp Cramp Shoots

It's early evening, as they cycle back to Lilydale.

We may not be able to return the bikes, says Pierre-Louis. The cycle shop could be closed.

And there won't be a bus at this late hour, says Gaius.

We could have stayed where we were one more night, says Pierre-Louis.

We could, but I had the feeling we were doing more harm than good, says Gaius.

I agree, says Pierre-Louis. We should have been more careful.

All those Banjos, that weren't Banjos until we came, says Gaius.

And the movie, says Pierre-Louis. Of course, it was mostly Terence.

But we brought him, says Gaius. And we know what he's like.

He did help with the drone, says Pierre-Louis.

Until he broke it, says Gaius,

I'm listening! shouts Terence. Remember I fixed it!

We remember, says Gaius. We're not blaming you.

Are we there yet? asks Terence. Squatty wants something to eat.

Give her an apple, says Gaius. Just one, and keep it separate.

After the horse has bolted, says Pierre-Louis.

I'll be fine, says Gaius. Although I do have a heavy feeling. 

That may be those loaded hot dogs, says Pierre-Louis. Tomato sauce, mustard and fries!

Doubtless, says Gaius.

They ride into Lilydale and stop outside Yarra Valley Cycles.

It's closed.

But Ranger Roger is waiting.

Done! says Ranger Roger. Easter Morning is back where he came from

Did he leave any messages? asks Terence.

In fact, yes, says Ranger Roger. Now what was it.....?

He's sad, says Terence. He hasn't got a copy of the movie to show the first Banjo.

No, that wasn't it, says Ranger Roger. It was something about a mackerel. It was a message for Gaius.

Aha! says Gaius. Good for him. He's reminding me I was intending to ask Squattu about that expression. Where is she?

Eating her apple, says Terence.

What's up? asks Squattu. 

Finish your apple, says Gaius. I'll ask you later.

What will you do tonight? asks Ranger Roger. There's no bus till morning.

We'll have to sleep rough, says Gaius.

He rubs his tummy. It rumbles. 

You need a comfortable night in a bed, says Ranger Roger. 

We both do, says Pierre-Louis. But that can't be helped.

As a  matter of fact, says Ranger Roger, my mother lives here in Lilydale and she has a spare room. I could ask her.

That would be a kindness, says Gaius. 

A sharp cramp shoots through his belly.

He makes a note to look up bat virus symptoms, as soon as he's recharged his phone.

The Over-Abundance

By the time they reach Yellingbo, it's late afternoon.

Ranger Roger is waiting, at the Yellingbo Central Store.

Did you return Banjo? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Ranger Roger. His parents were happy to see him.

Good, says Gaius. 

But not so happy about the secret, says Ranger Roger.

He told them! says Terence. 

Yes he told them, says Ranger Roger. Now they're confused.

Too many names, says Pierre-Louis. 

Something like that, says Ranger Roger. Have you brought Easter Morning?

He's in the carriage, says Terence. Watching his movie.

Tch! says Ranger Roger. 

What? asksTerence.

More outside influences, says Ranger Roger.

We try not to introduce outside influences, in the course of our research, says Gaius.

You need to try harder, says Ranger Roger. But never mind. Leave Easter Morning with me, and I'll return him to his natural habitat. I'll be fast. Then I'll meet you in Lilydale.

Easter Morning has jumped out of the carriage.

I'll go by myself, says Easter Morning.

No you won't, says Ranger Roger. You might lose your way.

Skinks can't lose their way, says Easter Morning.

But Ranger Roger scoops up Easter Morning and cycles off with him under his jacket.

Wah! says Terence. He's a really mean Ranger.

He does seem like a man in a hurry, says Gaius.

How did he know we were going to Lilydale? asks Pierre-Louis.

Our hired bikes and carriage, says Gaius. He knows we'll have to return them.

And why is he comng? asks Pierre-Louis.

Beats me, says Gaius. Unless he wants to be certain we leave.

And take Squattu with us, says Pierre-Louis. He may want to be sure about that.

True, says Gaius. Well, since we're here, how about an early dinner?

Good idea, says Pierre-Louis. Coming Terence?

I'll tell Squatty, says Terence.

Gaius orders two loaded hot dogs, and two coffees. 

In addition, he buys a bag of green apples.

Good thinking, says Pierre-Louis. By the way, any symptoms?

Of what? asks Gaius. 

Bat virus, says Pierre-Louis. Remember you ate that nibbled apple?

No, nothing, says Gaius. But I suppose I should have a checkup when we get back to Melbourne.

Terence and Squattu come in. 

What am I having? asks Terence.

You enjoyed that strawberry milkshake last time, says Gaius.

But Terence remembers the trouble with the pink thing, and what it did to Easter Morning, his friend, and the sticky patch on the blanket, and settles for a Ribena.

Squattu eyes the new bag of apples.

That's Enough Future

Now what? asks Terence.

Ranger Roger is returning Banjo to his parents, says Gaius.

Where are we going? asks Terence.

Back to Yellingbo, says Gaius. To return Easter Morning. Get in.

Terence climbs into the carriage.

What's happening? asks Squattu. Where did Banjo go?

Back to his parents, says Terence.

Now there's just the three of us, says Easter Morning.

You're next, says Terence.

I don't have any parents, says Easter Morning.

You have to go back where you came from, says Terence.

Why? asks Easter Morning.

Because we're going to Bilbo, says Terence. It's in Spain.

Bilbao, says Squattu.

How do you know? asks Terence. You weren't listening.

I know there's no Bilbo in Spain, says Squattu.

I could come with you, says Easter Morning.

No you couldn't, says Terence. We go on a plane.

Okay, says Easter Morning. So this is our last day together.

Yes, says Terence. Let's watch the movie again.

What's the movie? asks Squattu. 

It's me walking, says Easter Morning. Then I trip and the drone crashes into a tree.

And is that the end? asks Squattu.

Yes, says Easter Morning.

It sounds short, says Squattu.

It is short, says Terence. But it's long if you play it over and over.

Let's see it, says Squattu.

Terence shows Squattu the movie, several times.

It needs an epilogue, says Squattu. 

Oh yes! says Easter Morning. With me in it.

Whats an epi-log? asks Terence.

A bit at the end, Squattu. 

Ha ha, laughs Terence. Like a tail?

The end of the tale, says Squattu. Where Easter Morning talks about his future.

Okay, says Terence. I'll get it set up.

He grabs the control panel, and turns on the drone.

Up-knob. Stop. Hover. The drone hovers above Easter Morning, inside the carriage.

Talk, says Terence.

Easter Morning talks: Skinks can't hurt their toes, so I was okay. I went to the Ada Tree with my friends, all except Squatty. A man took a photo. I was on the tree with Banjo. Terence pretended he was climbing the tree.

I WAS climbing the tree, says Terence.

Shush! says Squattu. Let him tell it.

Easter Morning continues: Now Banjo has gone back to his parents. And I have to go back to Yellingbo. Another Banjo lives there. I know where he lives. I'll find him. I'll tell him about the movie, and the secret name of the tree. We will eat wasps together, if he wants to......

Easter Morning stops talking. That's enough future.

Cut! says Terence. 

Lovely! says Squatty.  

Rhymes With Eels

They walk back down the track, to the bicycles.

Terence runs to the carriage. Squatty! Wake up!

I am awake, says Squatty. I dreamed I was alone with the drone. And I woke up. And I was.

We went to the Ada Tree, says Terence. Banjo climbed up it.

I would have flown up it says Squattu. If I was there.

He knows a secret, says Terence.

Banjo climbs into the carriage.

What's this secret? asks Squattu.

Her secret name, says Banjo.

What is it? asks Squattu. 

I can't tell you, says Banjo. 

Did she tell you not to? asks Squattu.

Not exactly, says Banjo.

So you can, says Squattu. 

Melia, says Banjo. 

Melia, says Terence. That's not a tree name.

Yes it is, says Banjo. Or why does she have it?

I'll ask Gaius, says Terence.

Don't mention the secret name, says Banjo.

How can I ask if I don't? says Terence. Gaius!

What is it? asks Gaius. 

I know the secret name of the Ada Tree, says Terence. She told Banjo, and Banjo told me.

Fascinating, says Gaius. What is it?

I can't say it, says Terence, but it starts with M and rhymes with eels.

Meels? says Gaius. That surprises me.

Me too, says Terence. Because that wasn't it.

Perhaps it rhymes with something else, says Gaius. Think harder.

Ear, says Terence.

Meel-ear, says Gaius. MELIA!

Oops! says Terence. I revealed it.

You always meant to, says Banjo. You're a very bad friend.

Now, now, says Gaius, let's not succumb to ill feelings. Melia is not a secret name. It's the name of all nymphs of ash trees. I must tell Pierre-Louis.

Pierre-Louis is talking to Ranger Roger, who seems reluctant to go.

I know Banjo's tree, and his parents, says Ranger Roger. 

So do we, says Pierre-Louis. We'll be fine on our own.

It seems Banjo was spoken to by Melia, a mountain ash tree nymph, says Gaius. Can you believe it? 

I can, says Pierre-Louis. It was probably she whom I dreamed of.

Indeed, says Gaius. I must write that down.

Not my dream! says Pierre-Louis. 

I won't mention you, says Gaius. But, curses! I still don't have a pencil.

I have one, says Ranger Roger. Here you go.

Thank you, says Gaius. Are you coming with us to return Banjo to his tree?

I intend to, says Ranger Roger. It's my job to see that all's going well in the forest.

Perhaps you could do it yourself, says Gaius. It would save us some time.

All right, says Ranger Roger. I'll do it. And I'll see you in Powelltown.

We're going straight through to Yellingbo, says Gaius.

Yellingbo it is, then, says Ranger Roger.

He scoops Banjo up from the carriage, tucks him into his Ranger jacket, and cycles away at top speed.

He's a fast rider! says Gaius.

He's A Practical Guy

Look at this, says Sweezus. Gaius sent it.

Arthur looks at the photo.

Terence climbing a tree, says Sweezus. Kind of weirdly.

It's a fake, says Arthur. He's being held up.

Shit yeah, says Sweezus. Gaius is good. Freakin big tree, too.

And a possum, says Arthur. They must've found one.

Cool, says Sweezus. They'll be happy. I might give them a call.

He calls Gaius.

Hello? says Gaius. How did you like the photo?

Awesome, says Sweezus. 

Terence wasn't really climbing the tree, says Gaius. We made it look....What?.... Sorry.... Terence wants a word.

Yeah, put him on, says Sweezus.

I WAS climbing the tree, says Terence. 

Sure looked like it, little buddy, says Sweezus. 

I knew you'd believe me, says Terence.

And I see Gaius found a possum, says Sweezus. 

We all found him, says Terence. And his parents, and his cousin, and his parents. And guess what?

What? asks Sweezus. 

They're called Banjo, says Terence. 

All of them? asks Sweezus.

Not the parents, says Terence. Old ones don't have their own names.

No kidding, says Sweezus. I bet Gaius wrote that down in his notebook.

His pencils got broken, says Terence. He had to use an apple core.

He's a practical guy, says Sweezus.

Like me, says Terence. I fixed the drone.

Who broke it? asks Sweezus.

It broke itself, says Terence. When it crashed into a tree. Me and Easter Morning were making a movie.

Who's Easter Morning? asks Sweezus. 

The star of the movie, says Terence. He's in the photo, on the tree.

Sweezus looks again at the photo.

Yeah. Easter Morning must be the skink. The possum is Banjo.

Far out! says Sweezus. You've got a whole gang there! Are you bringing them home?

Only Squatty, says Terence. Not the others. They're not allowed

Fair enough. Hey, can I talk to Gaius again? asks Sweezus.

Okay, says Terence.

Hello? says Gaius. I'm low on battery, better make it brief.

Team Condor needs an extra rider, says Sweezus. We lost Pablo.

My deepest condolences, says Gaius.

He's not dead, says Sweezus. He joined a new team.

Dear me, says Gaius. I suppose these things happen. But I can't help you. Pierre-Louis and I have just signed up with Vello.

No worries, says Sweezus. If you think of someone else, let me know.

What about Marx? says Gaius. We'll be returning his blanket. I could ask him.

Too old, says Sweezus. Forget it. 

Crackle crackle.

What did you say? asks Gaius.... Drat! The battery's died!

What was that about Marx? asks Pierre-Louis.

He might have a place in Team Condor, says Gaius.

One Knee Up, Ker..lick

Banjo speeds down the tree.

What's up there? asks Terence.

Secrets, says Banjo.

What are they? asks Terence.

I can't say, says Banjo. 

What are they about? asks Terence.

Don't pester him, says Gaius.

I never pester, says Terence.

How about a photo? says Ranger Roger. 

Excellent idea, says Gaius. 

With all of us in it, says Ranger Roger, as a memento.

Even better, says Gaius. I'll take one without me and Pierre-Louis can take one without him.

One of the hikers overhears and offers to take a group photo.

Many thanks, says Gaius. Now let's see. Terence and Banjo in front. Myself, Pierre-Louis and Ranger Roger behind. Easter Morning, up the tree at head height. How will that look?

Good, says the hiker. And if I squat you'll get an idea of the height of the Ada.

The group disposes themselves in front of the Ada.

Gaius gives the hiker his phone.

Ker..lick! 

They all look at the photo.

Where am I ? asks Easter Morning.

Obscured by my head, says Gaius. We'll take another.

And where am I ? asks Banjo.

There, says Terence.

I should be up the tree, says Banjo.

Yes, you should, says Gaius. Get up there beside Easter Morning.

Can I be up the tree too? asks Terence.

This is getting ridiculous, says Pierre-Louis.

And what about Squatty? says Terence. She should be in it.

She's asleep in the carriage, a long way back down the trail, says Gaius. 

Are we ready? asks the hiker. How about I take one with the adults and another one with the kid and the wildlife?

Yes! says Terence. And I'll be up the tree.

You can't be up the tree, says Ranger Roger. It's protected.

We can make it look as if you're up the tree, says the hiker. I learned it in Europe.

Learned what? asks Gaius.

How to take that sort of photo, says the hiker. Like your holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. That type of thing.

We are in a bit of a hurry, says Gaius. 

No worries, says the hiker. Hold the kid up. Now kid, Turn a bit sideways. One arm like its curved round the trunk of the tree. One knee up. Look down.

Hurry up, says Gaius. Terence is heavy.

What about us? asks Banjo.

Stay where you are, says Pierre-Louis. And you'll be in it.

They sure will, says the hiker.

Ker..lick!

Great. The hiker does a quick edit. 

Very nice, says Gaius. Look, Terence.

Can we send it to Sweezus? asks Terence.

I don't see why not, says Gaius.

He sends it to Sweezus, who is eating a Cheeky Greek yiros, at Henley, and is mildly surprised.

Secret Warm Hollow Untold

There is a fence round the Ada Tree.

Several people in hiking boots and shorts are looking up at it.

Wow! says one.

Majestic, says another.

Makes you feel small, says a third.

Hello! says Terence, who has run ahead of his party. Is this the Ada?

It is, says the one who said Wow!

We've got a poem for it, says Terence.

How imaginative! says the one who said Majestic.

It's not finished, says Terence, but it starts like this, A tree has died....

There follows a thoughtful silence.

The Ada Tree has not died. Where is this little chap's poem going?

It's about another tree that died by it's side, says Terence. That's the beginning. Then ...

Ranger Roger, Gaius and Pierre-Louis arrive at the Ada Tree.

Here she is, says Ranger Roger. The Ada.

Magnificent! says Gaius. He opens his back pack.

Banjo jumps out, runs up the Ada and vanishes.

Hey! shout Terence. What about your poem?

But the Ada is seventy-six metres tall, and Banjo is now out of earshot.

I'll say it, says Easter Morning, who has jumped out as well.

Is it complete now? asks Gaius. Go on then.

A tree has died, says Easter Morning, It fell on its side, and got fader and fader, but who came along?  It was the Ada. She grew until she grew old. She didn't mind the cold. She had a secret warm hollow, untold.

That is very good, says Gaius. A secret warm hollow untold.

Reminds me of that dream I had, says Pierre-Louis.

Hum, says Gaius. Who came up with the ending?

Banjo, says Terence. He finally turned into a poet.

Call him down, says Ranger Roger. He can't stay up the Ada.

Banjo! shouts Terence. Come down!

But Banjo has reached the secret hollow near the top of the Ada.

He has entered. No one is home.

Who lives here? wonders Banjo.

I do, comes a warm secret reply.

Holy Mackerel! says Banjo. Who's talking?

Me, says the warm secret reply. Why did you say Holy Mackerel?

One of my friends is a fruit bat, says Banjo.

At least you didn't say Almighty Ada! says the warm secret voice. I reject that human name.

Isn't it your name? asks Banjo.

No, it's the name of a woman who was known to the surveyor, says the warm secret voice. Ada Mortimore.

My name's Banjo, says Banjo.

I guessed that, says the warm secret voice. And thanks for your poem.

Huh? says Banjo.

Your skink friend declaimed it below, says the warm secret voice.

You must have good ears, says Banjo.

I have, says the warm secret voice. And one of your friends is calling for you to come down.

Oh. Bye! says Banjo.

Bye! says the warm secret voice. By the way, my true name is Melia. 

Do you want me to change it in the poem? asks Banjo.

No, I don't, says the Melia.

Don't Eat It!

How far is it? asks Gaius.

Not far, says Ranger Roger. 

Anyone like an apple? asks Pierre-Louis. 

Not me thanks, says Ranger Roger.

Nor me, says Gaius. An apple means stopping.

Not necessarily, says Pierre-Louis. I'll drop back.

He drops back until he is cycling behind Terence's carriage.

Throw out a couple of apples! calls Pierre-Louis.

Okay, says Terence. Are we there yet?

Not yet! says Pierre-Louis.

Terence looks into the apple bag. All the apples have been nibbled.

Squatty must have done it, says Terence. 

He chooses the two least-nibbled apples and throws them out of the carriage.

Merde! cries Pierre-Louis. I missed!

Sorry, says Terence. Have these two.

The third and fourth least-nibbled apples are heavily nibbled.

Terence throws them out slowly.

Wheee! Plonk!

Pierre-Louis was ready this time.

He thanks Terence, and speeds up again.

He hands Gaius an apple, keeping one for himself.

That was well done, says Ranger Roger. I can see you are used to professional racing. 

I'm quite new to it, really, says Pierre-Louis.

I guess you won't be riding in the Tour de France this year, says Ranger Roger.

I have my ambitions, says Pierre-Louis. 

But doesn't it start soon? asks Ranger Roger/

Does it? asks Pierre-Louis.

This apple has been nibbled, says Gaius. Now, what were you asking?

The Tour. When is it? asks Pierre-Louis.

But Ranger Roger has pulled out his phone. 

First of July, says Ranger Roger. Starting off in Bilbao. Which is in Spain.

Dear me, says Gaius. And no one has even...

.....asked us to be in their team? says Pierre-Louis.

They may have, says Gaius. I haven't been checking my messages.

He pulls out his phone.

Yes, here's one from Vello. More than one. Hum. Let me see.....

Pierre-Louis looks hopeful.

That apple looks badly nibbled, says Ranger Roger. See the teeth marks? Made by a bat. Don't eat it. You may get a virus.

Pierre-Louis throws his apple away.

Gaius has finished his. 

Vello wants us for Team Philosophe! says Gaius. 

Us? says Pierre-Louis. Bravo! Say yes at once!

This will mean cutting short our itinerary, says Gaius. 

But surely you have time to visit the Ada Tree, says Ranger Roger. 

Of course, says Gaius. But let's pedal faster.

The Ada Tree Trail is a walking trail only, says Ranger Roger. We'll leave our bikes here.

Curses! But there is no getting out of this politely.

Squattu remains behind, asleep in the carriage.

Ranger Roger leads the way, followed by Terence and Pierre-Louis.

Gaius brings up the rear with Easter Morning, and Banjo in his back pack.

A spring in his step, and possible virus developing in his stomach.

That Possumy Smell

Gaius and Pierre-Louis continue to cycle east, towards the Ada Tree.

But the stop has cost minutes.

A ranger is now catching up.

Easter Morning looks out through a gap in the back of the carriage.

A ranger is coming! says Easter Morning.

Everyone get under the blanket! says Terence.

Easter Morning and Banjo wriggle under the blanket, next to Squattu.

Squee! says Squattu. Night time already?

No, whispers Easter Morning. It's not even lunch time. A ranger is coming.

So what? says Squattu.

Because of him, says Easter Morning, pointing at Banjo.

Banjo! Why are you coming? asks Squattu.

Adventure, says Banjo.

He's making a poem for the Ada Tree, says Easter Morning. Terence is helping.

That will be good, says Squattu. Wake me up when we get there.

She goes back to sleep.

The carriage stops moving. 

Good morning, ranger, says Gaius.

Good morning, gentlemen, says the ranger. I've had a report that you've kidnapped a Leadbeater's possum. Mind if I look in your carriage?

Not at all, says Gaius. 

The ranger looks into the carriage.

Hello, says Terence. There's only me in here.

Only you? says the ranger. What's that possumy smell?

It's not a possumy smell, says Terence. It's a bat smell. 

I think I know the difference between a bat smell and a possum smell, says the ranger.

Or it might be the drone, says Terence.

Drones don't smell, says the ranger.

Usually, says Terence. But this one got broken and had to be fixed with sticky pink stuff that Easter Morning ate and then it came out of his bottom.

I can't claim to know what that would smell like, says the ranger.

I'm used to it, says Terence.

But would you mind lifting the blanket? asks the ranger.

Yes, says Terence. I would mind.

Found our little stowaway? asks Gaius.

Not yet, says the ranger. I'm not getting much cooperation.

Terence, says Gaius. Lift the banket. We have nothing to hide.

Terence lifts the blanket.

As I suspected! It's Baby Possum! says the ranger.

Banjo, says Banjo. Hello Ranger Roger. What are you doing here?

Looking for you, says Ranger Roger. You're a long way from home.

We're going to the Ada Tree, says Banjo.

Then we'll take him back to his hollow, says Gaius. 

How can I be sure of that? asks Ranger Roger.

You have my word as a natural historian, says Gaius.

And mine, says Pierre-Louis.

Who are you? asks Ranger Roger.

Gaius Plinius Secundus and Pierre-Louis Maupertuis, says Gaius.

They're famous, says Terence. They go in the Tour de France. 

Not me, says Pierre-Louis. But I did compete in this year's Tour Down Under.

As did I, says Gaius. Shall we keep going? It occurs to me that we don't have much time.

All right, says Ranger Roger. But I'll come with you.

He sees no harm in it.

And they might agree to a selfie.

Secret Rude Face

I hope this is the right trail, says Pierre-Louis. Did you see a sign post?

No, says Gaius. But we're travelling in an easterly direction.

If it's wrong, says Pierre-Louis, at least the ranger won't find us.

We have nothing to fear from a ranger, says Gaius. 

Unless..... says Pierre-Louis.

You're right, says Gaius. We ought to have checked. Let's stop here.

Yes, best to be sure, says Pierre-Louis.

They stop. Gaius looks into the carriage.

Banjo's here, says Terence. We're making a poem.

A poem is all very well, says Gaius. But now a ranger is after us.

I know all the rangers, says Banjo. 

That's a relief, says Gaius. But how are we to explain that we have you in our carriage?

I'll say you're giving me a lift to the Ada Tree, says Banjo. 

Which we are, says Gaius. But why?

He's making a poem for it, says Terence. And he doesn't know how to, so I'm helping.

I suppose that's a good enough reason, says Gaius. And more proof that the Ada Tree is sacred to possums.

What's up? asks Pierre-Louis.

Banjo is here, says Gaius.

I knew it! says Pierre-Louis. There's no smoke without fire.

That's good, says Terence. Let's put that in the poem.

In the poem? says Gaius. Fire would not please a tree.

What have you come up with so far? asks Pierre-Louis.

A tree has died, says Terence. It wasn't the Ada. It stood by her side and got fader.

And fader, says Banjo. But the next part will be about her.

Wait, says Pierre-Louis. You can't say fader and fader.

Why not? asks Banjo.

It's bad English, says Pierre-Louis. It should be fadeder and fadeder.

That is even worse English, says Gaius. Try more and more faded.

That does sound elegant! says Pierre-Louis. 

But it doesn't rhyme with Ada, says Terence.

That can be overcome, says Gaius. Try a different end word. Such as....aided.

That might work, says Pierre-Louis.

Grown-ups!

Terence makes a secret rude face at Banjo. 

Banjo makes a secret one back.

It Got Fader And Fader

Gaius and Pierre-Louis go out to their bikes.

Ridiculous! says Gaius. As if we would have kidnapped a possum.

There is another scenario, says Pierre-Louis. Banjo stowed away.

Most unlikely, says Gaius.

Terence, climbs into his carriage. 

Look who's here, says Easter Morning.

Me, says Terence. 

Not you, says Easter Morning.

So where am I? asks Terence.

Here, says Easter Morning. That's why I said look who's here.

He meant me, says Banjo.

Banjo followed us, says Easter Morning. 

Now we're in trouble, says Terence. 

Why? asks Banjo.

Someone heard you buzzing, says Terence. And now you'll be reported.

That's not fair, says Banjo. It wasn't me buzzing.

It was me, says Easter Morning. 

Have you stopped? asks Terence.

Of course I've stopped, says Easter Morning.

The carriage starts moving.

We're going to the Ada Tree, says Terence. Is that why you followed us?

Yes, says Banjo. 

It's got a fence round it, says Terence.

You mean she, says Banjo. She's got a fence round her.

She's a tree, says Terence.

A girl tree? says Easter Morning.

An old woman tree, says Terence. The oldest.

An Ada, says Banjo. A majestic tree.

You should make a poem about her, says Terence.

I should, says Banjo. Will you help me?

Yes, says Terence. I'm good at poems. But mainly if something has died.

The Ada Tree mustn't die, says Banjo.

Okay, says Terence. Put that in. Go for it, Banjo.

But Banjo can't even get started.

A tree has died, says Terence, but it wasn't the  Ada/ It stood by her side and got fader and fader

That's more about the dead tree than the Ada, says Banjo.

Not if we keep going, says Terence.