The Constant Rabbit

‘I know a rabbit who knows a rabbit who knows a rabbit,’ she said, waiting for the call to connect. ‘How do you know he’s a Spotter?’

‘Loose talk on the pillow,’ said Pippa before I had a chance to say anything dumb. ‘He might not be Taskforce at all, of course – Toby is a Mallett, and they all like to brag.’

‘Ah,’ she said, then, on the phone: ‘It’s Bobby … Roberta … Like in The Railway Children … no, the other one … I’m fine, thank you. Looks like we’ve a potential shitstorm on our hands. Wait one.’

She put her hand over the mouthpiece.

‘This’ll take a while,’ she said to Pippa, ‘and, look, Doc’s off in the Middle East right now, so do you want to come to the flicks tonight to see the latest Dwayne Johnson film? He has a big following in the colonies.’

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘He just does,’ said Bobby with a shrug. ‘How about it?’

Pippa said she wanted to get an early night, but then Bobby gave her a broad wink and said it might be a really good idea if she came, and Pippa got the message and changed her mind.

‘Good,’ said Bobby, ‘pick you up at seven.’

She then started to chat on the phone, but this time in Rabbity.

‘Well,’ said Kent with a broad grin, ‘this has been fun. Drop around to have a scrape if the mood takes you, but not a word to Mum and Doc, yes?’

‘So long as you don’t dig out anyone’s foundations.’

‘On my honour,’ he said, making the sign of Lago by hopping on one foot. It was an unusual gesture of veneration, but not illogical: rabbit scriptures report that Lago, the Grand Matriarch, died when caught in a snare leading her warren to safety – that was the reason their faith used the sign of the circle.

The Thespian Talk-Through

Rabbits never drove fast. They liked to enjoy the view, didn’t much care for speed and besides, it was wasteful of fuel. If you want to get somewhere a long way away, just leave early. Days, if that’s what’s required. Or, as Samuel C. Rabbit had it: ‘nhffnfhfiifhfnnffhrhrfhrf’ or ‘to travel joyously is better than to arrive’.

The Toby issue now out of our hands, Pippa went off to read about the Rabbit Way, presumably to be better informed when she next met Harvey. For my part, I wheeled the Austin-Healey⁴⁸ out of the garage to rectify a fault with the brake lights and tinkered for an hour before deciding to go for a walk. I told Pippa to have fun at the cinema, while privately thinking she was probably far safer in Harvey’s company than she ever was in Toby’s. I then wended my way up the pyon⁴⁹ to the brick octagonal building that sat on the summit. It had been derelict for a long time, and the walls were daubed with graffiti. Discarded cans of Stella Artois surrounded an old sofa that someone had lugged up there, and the location, which once had been mysterious and magical, now seemed shabby and sad.

I returned by way of the church. The vicar was in the graveyard with Mrs Pettigrew, and although I had known them both for over twenty years, they were suddenly in haste to be somewhere else, gave me a curt ‘good evening’ and hurried off.

Pippa had gone by the time I got back, but had sent me a text saying not to worry about her, which had the entirely opposite effect – who tells you not to worry about anything unless there is something to worry about? I shrugged, then went through to the kitchen and was staring into the fridge for some sort of dinner-for-one inspiration when I heard the front door open. I walked through to the hall, thinking that perhaps the film was booked up and Pippa had returned early, but she hadn’t. It was Connie, and she was carefully removing her outdoor shoes and placing them neatly by the grandfather clock. She was dressed in a pale blue summer dress with a crocheted button cardigan. She spoke without looking up.

‘Bobby bumped into some friends of hers and they went too,’ she said. ‘I gave them some vouchers to eat at Vegamama’s⁵⁰ afterwards,’ she added. ‘Bobby’s pals were colony, so barely have two carrots to rub together.’

‘Was one of them Harvey?’ I asked. ‘I think he and Pippa might have a thing going.’

‘You may be right,’ she said with a smile, ‘but don’t fret. Harvey’s a nice lad – for a Friend of Starsky.’

‘Friend of Starsky’ was one of the politer names Wildstock used for Petstock, the less polite ones being ‘Petters’ and ‘Bottle-Lickers’.

‘Oh, and listen,’ she added, sucking her lip, ‘sorry about the scene in All Saints Church. I hope it didn’t cause you any trouble at the Taskforce.’

I had kind of expected this, but even so was unprepared.

‘You knew that I worked at RabCoT?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Connie with a smile. ‘I got the lowdown on you from Mrs Griswold at the newsagents soon after we arrived. When it comes to trading salacious gossip of a seriously hanky-panky nature, rabbits have a lot of ammunition. Mind you, I was surprised that Mr Ffoxe knew you by name. Are you important there?’

‘No,’ I lied, ‘I’m just a junior accountant. I – ah – bring Mr Ffoxe his petty cash.’