The Constant Rabbit

Pippa glanced at me then glared hard at Bobby, who said: ‘Whoops’, and her ears went flat on her back with a faintly audible whap.

‘Nice decor you’ve got here, Mr Knox,’ said Bobby, looking around at our unremarkable kitchen in a ploy to divert attention from her last remark. ‘Did you design it or was it your wife who left you because you were boring?’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ I said, ‘but if you want to be amongst humans, you’ve got to understand what makes us angry or upset. Saying my wife left me because I’m boring, well, it’s just … rude.’

‘Your great-grandfather wore my great-grandfather as a hat,’ she said, ‘that’s hardly polite – and nor is the denial of citizenship, despite us being resident here since Roman times.’

It was a good point. I was of Maltese descent, and Pippa’s mum was Polish. Bobby was probably more British than almost everybody I knew. Even the Malletts were descended from the DeMalet family, who arrived from France in the fourteenth century.

‘Well, OK,’ said Pippa, who sounded as though her conversation with Customer Support was just ending, ‘I’ll await your call.’

‘Right, then,’ said Bobby, preparing to leave, ‘I’ll be off. Pop round later, why don’t you, Pip?’

Pippa said she would, and Bobby bounced clean from the kitchen across the hall and out of the front door in a single hop, a distance of about fifteen feet.

‘They don’t close doors much, do they?’ I said.

‘They have an odd relation with barriers,’ said Pippa, once I’d shut the door. ‘They like to roam. I think it’s why they find the rabbit-proof fences so iniquitous. Did you know the concrete foundations of MegaWarren extend seventy feet below the surface?’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Harvey.’

‘Oh, yes,’ I said, pleased that she had raised him as a topic of conversation, ‘tell me all about him.’

‘Harvey was kinda cute and real smart,’ she said, and I spotted a gleam in her eye that had the warning flags suddenly waving. ‘Labstock by coat and appearance but carries the McButtercup surname so he’s actually a Petstock.’

I mentally kicked myself. No wonder I couldn’t find him. He wasn’t Labstock at all. Mind you, Lugless hadn’t suggested it either, so I felt slightly better about it.

‘Best of all,’ continued Pippa, ‘he didn’t try to hit on me and knew some seriously cool dance moves.’

I didn’t like the sound of this. Harvey McButtercup was probably connected to the Underground, and if that was so, then Pippa could be at serious risk.

‘Listen: you mustn’t …’

My voice petered out. Since the accident, I’d never told Pippa there was anything she couldn’t do and couldn’t be, and I really didn’t think I should start now. If she fancied a suspected member of a banned rabbit direct action organisation, then I couldn’t stand in her way – no matter how daft that might seem.

‘Mustn’t what?’ she asked.

‘Mustn’t … be imprudent. Extra-species⁴⁴ romances are still frowned upon.’

Rabbit/human couplings raised eyebrows at best, and were met with utter revulsion at worst. While technically illegal, prosecutions were becoming more rare, owing probably to Lord Jefferson, who gave a passionate defence of his relationship with Sophie Rabbit during his resignation speech as Attorney General.

‘It’s not a romance,’ she said in the sort of way that meant it was totally a romance. ‘Besides,’ she added, chin held high, ‘coming from you that’s a bit rich. It’s not like you don’t fancy Connie.’

‘I most certainly do not. Besides, we go back a way – she and I spent some time together at uni.’

She stared at me.

‘You never told me that.’

‘Didn’t I?’

‘No, you totally missed out that little snippet. Anyway you go all mushy when she’s around, and you’ve become very pro-rabbit recently.’

She paused for a moment, then asked: ‘How well, exactly, did you know her at university?’

‘We were just good friends.’

‘Hmm. Like me and Harvey?’

I sighed.

‘OK, point taken.’

There was a pause.

‘Would you like to see him again?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, I would.’

All Saints, All Spite

Fox and Friends is published monthly and caters for the witty and urbane fox-about-town. It contains news, reviews, fashion – and tips on more efficient ways to kill rabbits. It’s sort of like GQ meets Horse and Hounds meets Soldier of Fortune.

Toby was a no-show the following morning. By long-standing agreement, if he wasn’t there by 9.05 a.m. sharp he’d be making his own arrangements.

When I got into the office Flemming and Whizelle were both out but Lugless was already there and ignored me when I wished him good morning. I was obligated to tell him about Harvey but had decided I wouldn’t. As far as I was concerned, Harvey was just a white rabbit driving a taxi.

Nothing unusual in that.