Best to Forget

 Louisa comes through the front door, onto the verandah.

What's this? asks Louisa.

A map, says Terence. Ronnie did it. I helped him.

Terence did it, says Ronnie. I helped HIM.

I can see that, says Louisa. What's it a map of, and why is it here?

It's.... begins Terence.

Don't tell her, says Ronnie. If she can't work it out it's useless.

Or she's useless, says Terence.

Watch it! says Louisa. I'm excellent at reading maps. Okay, a wriggly line, that's a road out to somewhere. And these must be waves, so that's the sea. And this dot here must be where we're going. It's Kingscote!

Close, says Terence. Emu Bay!

Then you need to draw a bit more coastline says Louisa. Like this. Come here Ronnie.

He can't. He's a pencil. She picks him up.

Cripes! says Louisa. You're oily AND sticky! Is that my honey?

It's come off my fingers, says Terence. I gave some to the turnips. They liked it.

That surprises me, says Louisa. But let's not go there. I'll draw a bay here, and ...I know.. A picture of an emu.

Why? asks Terence. Can't you write Emu Bay?

Who's the map for? asks Louisa.

Saint Roley, says Terence. He's gone, but he might come back and he won't know where we've gone to.

He will now, says Louisa. So, who's coming?

We all are, says Terence. I'm their person. 

That's cool, says Louisa. You're their person and I'm Arthur and Gaius's person.

Yes, says Terence. Let's team up.

Sure, says Louisa. Now, come round the back. The others are ready.

They go round the back, leaving the map for Saint Roley.

You can go in my basket, says Louisa. 

Is it girly? asks Terence. 

No way, says Louisa. You'll love what's inside.

Terence runs off, to see what's inside Louisa's basket,

Louisa remembers the turnip pieces, and Ronnie the pencil

He forgot them, thinks Louisa. And they're so sticky. I think I'll forget them as well.

 

First Time Being Anyone's Person

Terence goes round to the front of the house, with the spoonful of honey, which he has licked but not eaten.

It is now he discovers Saint Roley has gone.

Hey! says Terence. Where's Saint Roley?

Gone back to the shore, says Ronnie. He decided he's too controlling.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

It means he makes you think about things you don't want to think about, says Ronnie. Like what your name was, and what it wasn't. And whose name it was.

Yes, says the smallest piece of turnip. And sometimes he interrupts you to talk about creaking.

I know, says Terence. We all heard it. Arthur made pancakes for breakfast and this is the honey. Who wants some?

I'll pass, says Ronnie. I'm still pretty oily.

Terence remembers the message he's supposed to pass on to Ronnie from Gaius.

Gaius said he won't need your services.

What services? asks Ronnie. Did he mean writing?

He didn't say, says Terence. Listen to this. Emu hey! Buzz blow and play. Who likes it?

We haven't tried it, says the smallest piece of turnip.

That WAS it, says Terence.

The honey, says the smallest piece of turnip.

We all want to try it, cry the other pieces of turnip.

Terence opens their lid, and drizzles Ligurian honey onto the turnip pieces.

Who likes it?

They all do. Just look at their faces.

We're going soon, says Terence. If Saint Roley comes back, tell him we're at Emu Bay.

No way! says Ronnie. We're coming with you!

We have to, say the pieces of turnip. You're our person.

Am I? asks Terence. It's the first time I've been anyone's person that wasn't a parrot. Okay!

Sweet. Who wouldn't want Terence to be their own person?

Right, says Terence. Ronnie can go in the blueberry container with the turnips and honey.

I'd rather not... begins Ronnie. 

First, get Ronnie to leave a message for Saint Roley, says the biggest piece of turnip.

Good thinking, says the smallest piece of turnip. Then he can follow us.

Go on then. Write, says Terence to Ronnie.

Help me here, says Ronnie. I can't write by myself. 

Neither can I, says Terence. I can do maps though.

Map it is, says Ronnie. 

Terence draws an oily map on the verandah, with Ronnie.

The map shows a wriggly road and a coast line.

Waves depicting where the sea is.

And a dot, which represents Emu Bay.

A Dangerous Ending

Gaius and Terence come in through the back door.

Arthur has made pancakes.

What's prompted Arthur to make pancakes?

We may never know.

Try this honey, says Louisa. It's made by Ligurian bees.

I heard most of their hives were destroyed in the fires, says Gaius.

A lot were, says Louisa, but this is pre-bushfire honey.

Let me see, says Terence. 

You can try it, says Louisa. She gives him some, on a spoon.

Shall we make an early start? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Louisa. If we leave in half an hour we should get to Kingscote by mid-morning.

Excellent, says Gaius. If I remember correctly, it's near Emu Bay.

It is, says Louisa. And I showed you the way. I was just a kid then. 

Did I come? asks Terence.

You did, says Louisa. You made us a poem. 

Right, says Terence. But I've forgotten it.

Emu hey! (says Louisa)

Buzz blow and play

the golden trumpet.

emu emu hey

who likes it?

Me, says Terence. It rhymes. Arthur do you like it?

Is 'Who likes it?' part of it, or a subsequent question? asks Arthur.

I always assumed it was part of it, says Louisa. Which is why it was memorable. I think all poems should end with 'Who likes it?'

Dangerous, says Arthur.

Yuck, says Terence. I don't like this honey. I'm going to give it to Saint Roley. He'll be hungry after his vigil.

How did the vigil go? asks Louisa.

We heard the house creaking, says Terence. The turnip pieces said Arthur was in love with you. Saint Roley said no he wasn't. He said YOU....

Take Saint Roley the honey, says Louisa, looking at Arthur, who is on his fifth pancake. Tell him we're leaving soon.

Indeed, says Gaius. And you might tell Ronnie I won't need his services.

I'll tell him my poem, says Terence. How did it go again?

Emu hey! says Louisa. 

Yes! Who likes it? says Terence.

Not A Real Boy

The stars fade.

The sky lightens.

It's morning, says Terence. 

He runs round the back to wake Gaius.

Saint Roley remains on the verandah with the turnip pieces and Ronnie the pencil.

Well, says Saint Roley, I think we can all agree we learned something. 

Yes, says Ronnie. I learned something.

So did we, says a medium-sized piece of turnip.

It speaks! says Saint Roley. Sorry, that was uncalled for. What did you learn?

The medium-sized piece of turnip coughs loudly, and says:

Our blueberry container is see-through. 

When we weep it mists over

We can't see the stars,

And we don't want to.

All we want is someone to understand what we've gone through.

We thought Holy Ronnie would finish his poem and rejoin us.

We would wrap ourselves around him as we did when we were a whole turnip

And he was not oily and he was called Ronnie

And Ronnie was not a real boy.

You shame me, says Saint Roley. What about you Ronnie?

Ronnie coughs and speaks:

Your poem, dear medium-sized piece of turnip,

Has made me joyful.

Finish it! finish it! chant the turnip pieces.

Therefore I entreat you (begins Ronnie)

To remember the turnip you were

And the pencil I was

When we bonded.

Is that it? ask the ten turnip pieces together.

It's enough, says Saint Roley. As to what I have learned, it's that I've become too controlling. I shall return to the shore alone, and think about making improvements. Goodbye my friends, and good luck on your travels.

He stalks off, leaving the turnip pieces and Ronnie the pencil in a panic.

What's Going Wrong?

How goes the vigil? asks Gaius.

It's finished, says Terence.

No it isn't, says Saint Roley. Nothing is resolved yet.

What does that mean? asks Terence. 

Closed off, says the smallest piece of turnip.

Do you want the lid down? asks Terence. 

No, says the smallest piece of turnip. Resolution does not require the lid down. It just needs attention.

We heard the house creak just now, says Saint Roley. 

So did I, says Gaius. That's why I woke up. I peered in through a window.

See anything? asks Saint Roley.

Nothing, says Gaius.

If I were to give a score out of ten for this vigil, says the smallest piece of turnip, I'd give it zero.

Or minus two, says Holy Ronnie.

Saint Roley is startled. Minus two. Zero? And it's not even over. What's going wrong?

I welcome your feedback, says Saint Roley.

You ask questions and don't listen to the answer, says the smallest piece of turnip. 

I do listen, says Saint Roley. 

Not to us, says the smallest piece of turnip. What was the last thing I said?

Not to us, says Saint Roley.

The last important thing, says the smallest piece of turnip. 

Zero, says Saint Roley. I'm still smarting.

Before that, says the smallest piece of turnip.

The other pieces of turnip are entranced. The smallest piece of turnip is spunky! She won't let this go!

Um, says Saint Roley. Help me here, someone.

Closure, says Gaius. A thoughtful interpretation of the purpose behind resolution...

Before that, says the smallest piece of turnip. 

What was it? asks Terence. 

Shut up, says Holy Ronnie. We're getting closer.

We are, says the smallest piece of turnip. Do you remember?

You wanted me to finish my poem, says Holy Ronnie. I entreat you....etcetera. And you were sad.

Yes, says the smallest piece of turnip.

Why should I lose points for that? asks Saint Roley.

You kept interrupting, says the smallest piece of turnip.

Yes, says Terence. You kept interrupting. I know! Everyone who interrupts has to .....

I think I'll turn in again, says Gaius. Good night.

Good night. Don't worry. It will shortly be morning.

Half A Number

2B's not a name! says Terence. It's a number.

It was my name, says Holy Ronnie. Only half of it is a number.

It's stupid, says Terence. I'm still calling you Ronnie.

If you want to remain at this vigil, says Saint Roley, show some respect for 2B. Ask him which name he prefers to be known by.

Thank you, says Holy Ronnie. I prefer Holy Ronnie.

As long as you're sure, says Saint Roley.

Why wouldn't I be? asks Holy Ronnie.

Who WAS Ronnie? asks Saint Roley. Don't you think it's important to know?

I know! says Terence. He was a kid who went to Mount Compass School, and he dropped you in the School Swamp.

I have no memory of that boy, says Holy Ronnie.

Then I suggest you continue your silent vigil, says Saint Roley. The memory may surface.

Holy Ronnie is silent.

So is Terence. So are the turnip pieces. 

Saint Roley opens their lid. The stars appear, above them.

You have been weeping, says Saint Roley. That's good. Who's going to tell me the reason?

Me, says Terence. They steamed up and couldn't see anything. Then the house creaked and they were scared.

That is not the reason, says the smallest piece of turnip. We were weeping for the lost parts of ourselves. And also for Holy Ronnie.

Did the house creak? asks Saint Roley.

Yes, says Terence. Maybe it's Gaius. 

He's sleeping in a tent, in the back garden, says Saint Roley.

He might have gone in for a snack or a wee, says Terence. 

Or it might have been Arthur, says the smallest piece of turnip. Maybe he's in love with Louisa.

Not very likely says Saint Roley. But she may be in love with him. Because he's a poet.

I could have been a poet, sighs Holy Ronnie.

If you finished your poem, says the smallest piece of turnip.

Why don't you finish it? asks Saint Roley.

Because I'm distracted, says Holy Ronnie. I'm thinking about the original Ronnie, and my real name, 2B, and about how it's not a name but a number.

Half a number, says Terence.

Nothing wrong with that, says Gaius, emerging at the side of the house (so it wasn't he who was creaking).

That's what I'd like to think, says Holy Ronnie.

Then think away, says Gaius. I'll give you an example. Do you know what my name is?

Gaius, says Terence.

FULL name, says Gaius. Gaius Plinius Secundus. Secundus is a number.

Secundus? It sounds like a name to Holy Ronnie.

He takes little comfort from this.

Weep For The Lost Part

Night time. On Louisa's verandah. 

There are stars in the sky.

The turnip pieces can see them through the transparent lid.

Words. Blueberries. Only the finest. And higher up, bright stars. 

They wait for the vigil to begin.

Can I sit here? asks Terence. Wait, I need a pillow.

No, you don't, says Saint Roley. A vigil is hard.

Okay, says Terence. I'll stand up. Wait. I need a candle.

No, you don't, says Saint Roley. There are stars.

Can we start? asks Holy Ronnie. 

Certainly, says Saint Roley. Now I want you to be silent and think of the lost things in your life.

I lost my Peruvian hat, in Melbourne, says Terence. I went into a pub and bad people took it.

You're supposed to be silent, says Saint Roley. This is not about you.

Did you ever get it back? asks a small piece of turnip.

I'm not allowed to tell you, says Terence. But am I wearing it? No. That's the answer.

The smallest piece of turnip has got the idea now.

It thinks: I lost a part of myself. I weep for that part. I am not allowed to tell anyone. 

What about you Ronnie? asks Saint Roley.

Is he allowed to talk now? asks Terence.

Yes, says Saint Roley. Enough time has elapsed since we began our silent vigil. 

Woop, says Terence. That means I can talk too.

You had your turn, says Saint Roley. You lost a hat once, which is not even sad.

Terence knows it isn't, because he got another one (and also lost that one; maybe that's sad)

All the turnip pieces are weeping now, because they have remembered the lost parts of themselves.

The blueberry container mists over. The stars fade and falter.

Well, says Holy Ronnie, I've lost height in the time I've existed.

That's natural, says Saint Roley, but I want you to think back to the very beginning.

I was a very long pencil, says Holy Ronnie. And full of ambition

And your name was.....? asks Saint Roley.

The stars shine question marks down on Holy Ronnie. His name was...? 

Not Ronnie! 

Not Ronnie! says Saint Roley. Think back. Who was Ronnie?

Everyone tries to think back, for this is a mystery.

The turnip pieces think back. But it's fruitless.

Terence thinks back, but when the emu wren found Ronnie, he was called Ronnie.

Ronnie thinks back.

Ah-oo-eee-wah!. Once long ago..... (he remembers it now).....his name was 2B.