The Constant Rabbit

‘That’s odd,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d be a Spotter. You recognised me the first time in the library, although I think you were pretending you hadn’t.’

She said it with her head cocked on one side, and staring intently into my eyes.

‘Junior accountant,’ I reaffirmed.

‘Well, someone has to do these jobs. Our beef is with head office, Nigel Smethwick and the Regional Fox, not rank-and-file officers trying to earn a crust to feed their families.’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘that’s good. Did you think it was wise,’ I continued, wanting to move on, ‘threatening Mr Ffoxe in that manner?’

She shrugged.

‘I don’t know, but if you let people – foxes, politicians, media outlets, platforms, whatever – get away with unacceptable behaviour, then it emboldens them and others to greater and more extreme conduct. Besides, he knew I wouldn’t have harmed him – I’d be killing my own if I took him out. No, I just wanted to make my feelings known.’

‘They’re an unlikely ally of humans,’ I said. ‘Before the Event we used to hunt them on horseback and shoot them on sight.’

‘It’s a shame you still don’t,’ she said. ‘It’s a your-enemy-is-my-enemy-you-must-be-my-friend deal. Now,’ she added, giving me a twirl there in the hall, ‘what do you think?’

I didn’t know what she was referring to: her figure, her clothes, or even her general demeanour. They were all pretty much perfect. I stammered for a moment, and she helped me out.

‘It’s called Flopsy Chic by Stella Rabbit,’ she said, indicating the clothes. ‘Very in at the moment. A sort of Beatrix Potter juvenilia mixed with practicality, and of stretch fabric so bouncing is unencumbered.’

‘It’s very nice,’ I said, still unsure why she was in my front hall, but very glad she was.

There was a pause.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I came over here to ask a favour, but if this is a bad moment I can leave.’

‘N-no,’ I said, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘I mean, no, it’s fine, really – I was just wondering what to do with myself for the evening. There’s always Casualty on the telly, but it’s not been the same since Brenda Fricker left.’

‘That was years ago,’ said Connie. ‘Have you really been watching it all that time hoping it will get better?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, maybe now and again. Please, come in.’

I led her into the living room and she draped herself over the sofa.

‘Nice curtains,’ she said, stretching her toes out over the arm of the settee. ‘We don’t have carrot patterns on ours, by the by, that’s a myth. It would be like you having bacon sandwiches on yours.’

We both sat in silence for a few moments.

‘You don’t mind me popping round, do you?’ she asked, blinking her large eyes. ‘I don’t have many friends in the area, rabbit or otherwise, and I always thought you and I got on well, y’know, back in the day.’

There was a pause, and to fill the empty air I asked whether she’d like a drink.

‘Thought you’d never ask. Any dandelion brandy?’

‘A friend gave me some earlier today.’

I poured two small measures, stopped, then made them larger.

‘Bobby said Doc was on assignment in the Middle East,’ I said over my shoulder.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘something regarding security but I didn’t ask. It’s best not to know in his line of work.’

I told her I understood, and handed her the drink.

‘Bottoms up,’ I said.

‘Cottontails to the ceiling.’

I sipped mine but hers went down in a single gulp.

‘Hmm,’ she said, ‘very good – maybe a little “kitteny” for me, but heigh-ho: are refills free in this house?’

We both laughed even though it wasn’t funny, and I went and fetched her another.

‘So what’s this favour I can help you with, Connie?’

She produced two scripts from her bag.

‘I’ve got an audition on Monday and was wondering if you could run some lines with me?’

‘Of course,’ I said, and sat down beside her. ‘But I’m not an actor.’

‘We are all actors,’ said Connie. ‘Our true feelings and desires hidden behind masks carved from the trammels of accepted social norms. Wouldn’t you say so?’

She didn’t wait for me to answer and instead passed me one of the scripts.

‘There’s no acting required. I just need someone upon whom to project, and to feed me my cue lines. This is the scene I want to run,’ she added, placing her warm paw on my hand and moving closer. ‘I’m a manipulative Lapin fatale who is trying to ensnare a social inferior in order that she can use him to murder her husband in a duel. I wrote it myself.’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘a thriller?’

‘Domestic drama. We’re very social creatures, and the close proximity in which we live our lives has engendered a strong tradition of family drama. The last remake of The Flopsy Bunnies was three hours long and sort of like Neighbours, Amadeus and Fast & Furious all rolled into one.’

‘Sounds complex.’

‘Not to us. Our version of The Comedy of Errors has nine sets of identical sextuplets. It’s much funnier. Shakespeare really missed a trick on that one.’

‘Rabbit society seems quite full on.’