Stiff Listening

Now what? asks the knowlesi.

Your prayer will be answered, says Terence.

That's up to us, says Saint Méen.

Go on then, says Terence.

Saints Méen and Maclou look at one another.

This involves squatting. 

Creak-crack! go their bones.

A couple of plasters should do it, says Saint Méen, looking closely. 

Plasters! says the knowlesi. Any vet could do that.

Without the praying, says Terence. 

Yes, without the praying, says the knowlesi.

The knowlesi is cross.

More white stuff is oozing out through the split in his belly.

Calm down, knowlesi, says Belle. The saints have promised to fix you.

Does anyone have a plaster? asks Saint Maclou.

Not me, says Saint Méen. I used my last one on a blister.

Nor I, says Saint Maclou. Except for this one, on my finger. 

You can't use that! says Belle. I'll go and look for a chemist.

She goes off to search.

Quiet-tartus is stirring.

What's happening? Are we in heaven?

Ha ha! laughs Terence. We're only in Flamanville.

Yes, Flamanville, says Saint Méen. Lie still, little frog. Your innards are spilling.

Belle's gone to get a plaster, says Terence.

Quiet-tartus looks up at the saints. 

The saints feel a bit guilty.

We could .... says Saint Méen.

But it's best to allow nature... says Saint Maclou.

What's nature about a plaster? asks Quiet-tartus. Take off those beanies and start buzzing! 

The saints don't like being ordered to take off their beanies and buzz up a miracle.

Furthermore Terence is watching. What might he learn if they acquiesce meekly? 

We'll wait, says Saint Méen.

They sit down on the grass, which is better than squatting.

Terence hums to the frogs:

hm hm hm

The frogs listen stiffly.

White Stuff Oozing Out

Arthur has not come back from the chemist at Jullouville.

He'll have gone on ahead, says Jeanne Jugan.

And even if he hasn't, says Pierre-Louis, he said he'd catch up.

He did, says Jeanne Jugan. Let's get going.

They get on their bikes and head up the coast towards Gouville-sur-mer.

Arthur is not far out of Gouville-sur-mer.

They can see him in the distance.

There he is, says Jeanne Jugan.

But Arthur is riding quite fast, having stopped for the apples and then for the toilet.

It's sixty-five ks to Flamanville.

He takes another apple out of his pocket.

....

Belle and the saints have taken a short cut to Flamanville and are already there.

Belle sends a message to Arthur.

At Flamanville. Will wait for you here.

The frogs are in the bottom of Belle's panier velo.

No one has checked on them for ages.

How are the frogs? asks Belle, now.

Dead, says Terence.

I hope not, says Belle. Let's have look at them.

She lifts Terence out, and peers into the depths of the panier.

Quiet-tartus and the knowlesi are in a bad way.

They both have have splits in their skin, with white stuff oozing out of them.

Yerk! says Belle. She lifts them out quickly, and places them on the grass beside Terence.

Uuuurh! says the knowlesi.

Quiet-tartus says nothing.

These frogs look quite poorly, says Saint Méen. 

I know, says Belle. We may not need Arthur.

Are we finished? moans the knowlesi.

Only if you choose to be, says Saint Maclou. We are saints, and can help you.

Hoooow? asks the knowlesi.

Saints, repeats Saint Maclou.

I think he meant How? says Belle.

Of course, says  Saint Maclou. I should have realised. This is how. First you must pray.

Can't we just have a gift? moans the knowlesi. Like you gave to the carrot?

NO! says Terence. Look how badly that went!

Terence is wise, says Saint Méen.

Okay, says the knowlesi. Who to?

Either of us, says Saint Méen. Then we'll see what happens.

Quiet-tartus can't pray, says Terence. He's dead already.

No he isn't, says Belle. Look, his belly is going up and down.

But he can't talk, says Terence.

I'll do it for both of us, says the knowlesi. Will that be okay?

Yes, says Saint Méen. Better get started.

You have to bend over, says Terence.

We'll overlook that requirement, says Saint Méen.

The knowlesi has never prayed for anything in his life.

What is the protocol? 

He doesn't know how, says Terence. I do. Let me do it. 

I suppose that's all right says Saint Méen.

Terence makes a rude finger movement.

Belle frowns. 

Dear Holies, says Terence. I ask for these split-open frogs. Fix our bellies before our insides fall out of our bodies. Over and out.

That was unconventional, says Saint Méen. 

Looks Like Schist

Barfleur looks pretty, says Belle. 

It is one of the Beautiful Villages, says Saint Méen. 

Woop, says Terence. 

Don't scoff, says Belle. Look those nice granite houses, covered with schist.

Terence looks. But it doesn't look much like schist.

There's a  lighthouse, out on the point, says Saint Maclou. 

And a smell of fish, says Belle. 

It's a fishing village, says Saint Maclou. Fish, crustaceans, and open sea mussels.

The Normans left from here, says Saint Maclou. To battle the English.

What are Normans? asks Terence.

Normans, says Saint Méen.

But what are they? asks Terence, persisting. 

Men from Normandy, says Saint Méen. A long time ago. With swords, lances and bows and arrows.

Did they win? asks Terence.

That's enough, says Belle. Let's keep going. 

But did they? asks Terence.

Yes, says Saint Méen. 

Yay! says Terence. Did they have horses?

Probably, says Saint Méen. He imagines they must have. Probably floated them across the Channel on vessels. But he had not in fact seen it.

I had a horse, says Terence. It was called Monty. But I lost it.

It wasn't a real one, says Belle. It was a toy.

But I'm getting a real one, says Terence.

He isn't, says Belle. Just imagine!

When we get to Saint Malo, says Saint Maclou, I'll ask our neighbor Madame Ponty to give you a ride on her pony.

Belle winces. This is not a good idea.

Yay! says Terence. What's a pony?

Explanations ensue.

......

They cycle out of Barfleur, passing the second tallest lighthouse in Europe, manned nowadays by a lobster.

Lace On A Train

Rou-kai turns sadly, and flies east.

He flies over Gouville-sur-mer.

Roo-kai sees Arthur's bike, resting against the wall of a public convenience.

He crosses La Manche, to Barfleur.

Belle will not yet have arrived at Barfleur.

He lands on the sand and starts searching for molluscs.

He gets lucky.

Pick-pick-bubble-crack!

Half an hour later he is perched on a fence post at the roadside.

Here comes Belle now, head down, pedalling. 

Terence is first to spot him.

Roo-kai! cries Terence. 

Belle stops. There you are! Did you see Arthur?

Yes, says Roo-kai. He's stopped for a comfort stop at Gouville. Eaten too many apples.

It's not like him to buy apples, says Belle.

By the look of the apples, he didn't buy them, says Roo-kai.

Oh, says Belle. Well, I hope he's on track for Flamanville.

It occurs to me, says Roo-kai, that Arthur may as well have stayed in Saint Malo.

It occurred to us too, says Belle.

But we need Arthur to be in charge of the frogs, says Terence.

Hush, says Belle. 

Because they're illegal, says Terence.

I suppose they are, says Roo-kai. Where are they?

Lying low, says Belle. In the bottom of my panier velo.

So I have to tread around them, says Terence.

Yes, says Belle. That's the other thing.

Why can't the saints take the frogs? asks Roo-kai. Where are they anyway?

The saints can be seen in the distance, pedalling slowly, their heads turning often to look at the sea.

The waves are rearing like dragons, crashing like tiny stones and spreading like lace on a train.

(a bridal train, not a locomotive)

How bracing! they say. Smell the ozone!

But of course, we cannot hear them.

At last they catch up.

Have we missed anything? asks Saint Maclou.

Arthur ate too many apples and got the runs, says Terence.

Terence! says Belle. How do you even know that?

I was listening, says Terence.

I said comfort stop, says Roo-kai.

I know what that means, says Terence.

Parallel Outcomes

Arthur is back on the coast road. 

His stomach is gurgling.

He stops cycling. 

Gurgle-gurr.

It's probably nothing.

He takes another sour apple from his pocket.

And takes a bite, looking out at the sea.

A tiny object floats out there, only just visible, a bird flying above it.

The bird spots Arthur, and turns.

Roo-kai! says Arthur.

Arthur! says Roo-kai. Are you all right, you look pale.

Yes, says Arthur. Just a gurgly stomach. That's why I'm eating an apple.

It looks like a sour apple, says Roo-kai. Are you sure that's wise?

Either it is or it isn't, says Arthur. I win either way.

Poets! says Roo-kai.

Why aren't you with Terence and Belle? asks Arthur.

I come and go, says Roo-kai. At the moment I'm keeping an eye on the carrot. It's a lost cause, but I can't let it go.

What carrot? asks Arthur. 

Belle's carrot, says Roo-kai. To be precise, a half carrot. But who knows what state it's in now.

Why didn't she eat it? asks Arthur.

It spoke, says Roo-kai. At first it could only say carrot. Then the saints gave it the true gift of speech. Then they took it away. But before that, it uttered its wishes. 

What were its wishes? asks Arthur, looking at his sour apple, with one bite out.

To be returned to the river, says Roo-kai. It had spent time there, enjoying its independence. 

But now it's in the sea, says Arthur.

Sadly yes, says Roo-kai. And entombed in a box. Not quite what it wished for.

Arthur eats the rest of his apple.

Did it too have wishes? And now it's entombed in his stomach. Or at least on its way? 

Gurgle-gurr.

Better get going, says Arthur. I might need a toilet. 

You're not far from Gouville-sur-mer, says Roo-kai.

Good, says Arthur. 

He pedals away in a hurry, towards Gouville-sur-mer.

Roo-kai flies back out to sea. 

And continues to observe the tomb of the hapless half carrot.

Is the box holding up? No it isn't.

The cardboard lid is not sitting right. The sides of the box are collapsing.

Is this what the carrot would have wanted?

Either it is or it isn't.

It will be lost either way.

The Marvellous Apple

Arthur hasn't come back from the chemist.

And there's a good reason for that.

He is cycling along the coast road without his companions.

The blood on his knees has dried up.

He feels like eating an apple.

But there are no apple trees along the coast road.

Perhaps he should head inland. 

He sees a sign to Bouillon.

Arthur does not know it but the steeple of the church of Bouillon boasts a famous apple tree.

It seems that many years ago a seed got mixed up in the mortar.

And was awakened (as seeds often are) by a hint of moisture.

Merveilleusement, the seed grew into an apple tree, which every year produces sour apples, which fall from the steeple.

Also nearby is the stone of the devil.

And the valley of painters through which flows the river Crapeux.

Here one may come across nymphs, washing their garments.

Catch their eye, and a rocky death may await you.

But we must not forget that Arthur lives a charmed life.

He sees the church with the apple tree on the steeple.

Apples lie underneath, on the ground.

Arthur stops and picks up a few, stuffing them into his pockets. Then he chooses one without bruises, to start with.

Chomp.

It's sour, but Arthur likes sour.

He is eating his apple when his phone rings.

It's Belle.

Arthur, where are you?

Bouillon, says Arthur.

Is that on the coast road? asks Belle.

A bit off it, says Arthur.

How are we supposed to meet up if your're a bit off it? says Belle.

I'm going back on it, says Arthur. Where are you now?

Grandcamp-Maisy, says Belle. We've just passed through it.

Okay, says Arthur. Where's half way between there and here?

How should I know? says Belle. Wait, I'll ask Saint Maclou.

Arthur hears saintly voices.

Gouville-sur-mer.

No Maclou, I take issue.

Where then?

Flamanville.

Is he alone?

Are you alone? asks Belle.

I am now, says Arthur.

He's alone, says Belle.

Then Flamanville it is.

Flamanville, says Belle. We'll meet there and transfer the frogs. What's that noise? Are you eating something? 

Apple, says Arthur.

Good for you, says Belle. Apples are healthy.

Maybe, says Arthur. 

But his stomach is telling him otherwise.

Irritations And More

They have now reached Jullouville.

Look back, says Jeanne Jugan. There's a view of Mont Saint Michel bay.

Sure enough, there is a view of it. 

Are we in a hurry? asks Jeanne Jugan. 

Not at all, says Pierre-Louis. Shall we stop for a break?

Why not? says Jeanne Jugan. 

Arthur wants to keep going. 

But not with them. 

Okay, says Arthur. You go down to the beach while I find a chemist.

For plasters? says Jeanne Jugan. No need, I have some.

What about ointment? says Arthur.

Let me see, says Jeanne Jugan. Yes, I have some creme pour irritations de la peau. It contains herbal ingredients.

What's its use-by date? asks Arthur.

She looks. Oh dear. Two thousand and seven.

Normally Arthur would not care that a creme pour irritations was due to expire in two thousand and seven. He would not use it, in any case.

But he appears to care today.

I'll see you later, says Arthur. If you get bored, go on without me. I'll catch up.

He heads off in the direction of a row of small shops.

He seems keen to have fresh creme, says Jeanne Jugan.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. How can creme pour irritations go off?

Would you like to find out? asks Jeanne Jugan.

No, .....oh.....why not? says Pierre-Louis.

They wheel their bicycles down to la plage.

They sit on the white sand.

In the water, people are kite surfing, skimboarding, funboarding, swimming and sailing

Jeanne Jugan gets her creme out.

Pierre-Louis extends his right knee.

She rubs some creme on.

It turns red, but that is quite natural.

He takes out an old fashioned handkerchief, and wipes the red creme off.

Start again, says Pierre-Louis.

She rubs some more creme on, and puts on a plaster.

Now the other knee.

They lie back, enjoying the sun.

Why are you travelling with Arthur to pick up some frogs? asks Jeanne Jugan.

It is not for the frogs, says Pierre-Louis. It's to meet Belle, Vello's daughter.

For noble reasons, I hope, says Jeanne Jugan.

Certainly, says Pierre-Louis. I merely wish to learn more about what Vello is doing. 

Careful what you wish for, says Jeanne Jugan. What if you learn that he is a highly sought-after speaker on the international circuit?

What? says Pierre-Louis. If he is, I think I would know it!

Just an example, says Jeann Jugan. He probably isn't.

What about you? asks Pierre-Louis. 

I remember Belle, says Jeanne Jugan. And she is travelling with Terence. I should like to meet Terence and see how he is progressing.

The baby Jesus look-alike? says Pierre-Louis.

Yes, says Jeanne Jugan. I last met him five years ago. He'll be more mature now.

Right, says Pierre-Louis. But isn't he a statue?

Even then, he was learning to map-read, says Jeanne Jugan.

(It's possible she remembers it wrong).