The Constant Rabbit

The UK government didn’t see it in quite the same way, and legally defined rabbits on strict taxonomic grounds, which unequivocally had them classed as Oryctolagus cuniculus: rabbits. Emphatically not human. It was a decision that was roundly embraced by RabToil, as it meant that annoyingly restrictive employment laws could be usefully circumvented. Additionally, the government argued, giving rabbits equal rights was a dangerous precedence as it then made no legal sense not to give the same to chickens, cows and pigs. Accepting food as pay for being a dog or a horse could very well be defined as paid employment and require sick leave and other benefits, but it was the whole ‘being murdered and eaten’ issue that was so deeply problematic. The Actual Truth headlined the case as: ‘Europe wants to take away your bacon rolls.’

I sighed, and a little bit more of myself crumbled inside. The really questionable work that RabCoT undertook was done on the floor below me, but even so, I enabled it. Even if I wasn’t part of the problem, I was certainly not part of the solution.

Pippa’s mum Helena had thought so too, and it was why she left me after a series of increasingly acrimonious arguments. I needed to provide for us and maintain the house, but she didn’t think that keeping the family home in Much Hemlock was worth the price tag. She was the first and last person I told. No one else knew what I did. Not family, not friends, definitely not Pippa.

‘I think you’ve got Major Rabbit and Connie all wrong,’ I said in a quiet voice, hoping to smooth this over.

‘Oh, “Connie” is it now?’

‘She asked me to call her that,’ I said, feeling hot and annoyed and wanting to be away from here. ‘I thought you wanted me to get all friendly?’

‘I did,’ said Victor, ‘but not familiar. And my point about criminality has been borne out: their son has a tag on his ankle – for burrowing, I heard.’

I’d seen the tag too.

‘You see what I mean?’ added Victor. ‘Not content with decimating the countryside and taking away all the poorly paid jobs that no one wants to do, they’ve started undermining our towns and villages. Can’t you see the metaphor? Their agenda is as clear as the nose on your face: Undermine and Overpopulate. Do you know how many buildings have been seriously damaged by Vandaburrolism?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying hard to remember even a single case.

‘I don’t know either,’ said Victor, ‘but it’s dozens at least, perhaps more. The TwoLegsGood website is packed full of examples.’

‘If you want to know about Kent, all you need do is ask.’

It was Connie. She stared at us both in turn, then blinked those large odd-coloured eyes of hers. I had no idea how much of our conversation she’d heard, but I hoped not the bit about how I worked in Rabbit Compliance.

‘Have you met?’ I said, swiftly defaulting to introductions. ‘Mrs Rabbit, this is Mr Victor Mallett, chair of the Parish Council and long-time resident of Much Hemlock. Mr Mallett, this is Mrs Constance Rabbit, newly resident at Hemlock Towers.’

Mr Mallett faltered slightly, but then succumbed to Default Standard British.

‘My pleasure,’ he said politely, shaking her paw awkwardly, and with imperfectly disguised reluctance. ‘Welcome to the village. The choir is always looking for new members, the knitting circle are a friendly bunch, and you’ll find Peter and Pippa very generous neighbours.’

‘We have found Mr Knox to be the perfect neighbour,’ she said, smiling, ‘but I’m not convinced of your sincerity. Is this pamphlet something to do with you?’

She produced one of the leaflets I had seen Mr Mallett distributing, warning all and sundry about the ‘pernicious carrot-munching vermin in our midst’. Mr Mallett looked at it, then at me, then at Mrs Rabbit, who cocked her head on one side and stared at him impassively.

‘Oh,’ he said, looking like someone caught in headlights, ‘I think perhaps our message might have been … taken out of context.’

‘I see,’ said Connie, ‘and in what context would “pernicious carrot-munching vermin” be anything but grossly offensive and leporiphobic?’

‘Well,’ he said, suddenly recovering, ‘now you’re being offensive in calling me leporiphobic, which is a vicious and unwarranted slur of which you should be horribly ashamed – and which makes us all even. Goodness, is that the time? I am most hideously late for a meeting. So good to have made your acquaintance, Mrs Rabbit. Good day.’

And he walked away, wiping the hand that he used to shake Mrs Rabbit’s paw on his trouser leg.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Connie, placing a paw to her mouth as she gave out a couple of chirpy giggles. ‘I am so wicked. I really shouldn’t have put him on the spot like that.’

‘I tend to agree with you,’ I said, ‘as one of the few acquaintances you have in the village, I must tell you that Mr Mallett is the last person you should annoy.’

‘If you stay acquainted with us, Mr Knox,’ she said with dazzling directness, ‘the only acquaintance you may have in the village is us.’