The Constant Rabbit

Next Sunday, Next Door

DNA testing revealed that the rabbits were not some weird human/rabbit hybrid but were, in fact, rabbits – genetically indistinguishable from their dim field-cousins. Whatever gives the humanlike rabbits their humanness, it isn’t in their DNA.

The Rabbits arrived the following Sunday amidst the buzz of motor mowers and the snip-snap-snip of garden shears. Everyone was eager to have the village neat and tidy, shipshape and perfectly just-so on the off chance that the Spick & Span judges might drop by, as they had been seen mooching around Pembridge on Wednesday.

I was in the garage tinkering with my Austin-Healey when a 1974 Dodge Monaco22 pulled up in front of Hemlock Towers. Rabbits liked large American cars as they were better suited to their physique and limited levels of dexterity. Bench seats, auto transmission, feather-light power steering and large pedals. They also took great care of the cars, as rabbits viewed obsolescence as the arrogant cousin of waste and thus incompatible with the fourth tenet of their faith: sustainability. There was a rabbit saying: ‘Nfifnfinnfiifnnfifnfn’, which roughly translates as: ‘Only a fool buys twice’.

I hurried upstairs to see more easily over the dividing hedge. The kids got out first and, I noted, were traditionally dressed yet with modern trappings: the boy-rabbit was in a blue sailor-suit and Nikes, and listening to a cassette Walkman. He moved languidly as though either deep in thought or consumed by idleness, and was also wearing an ankle monitor of the type used by the probation services. The girl-rabbit was more animated, wore a flowery summer dress and bounced into the house with one or two excited hops while her father climbed out the driver’s side. He was dressed in a green Harris tweed over a matching waistcoat, shirt and tie. Rabbits rarely wore any clothes from the waist down as it restricted movement and the ability to hop. This was of little consequence to the females, who routinely wore skirts, dresses and, if no bouncing was planned, culottes, but to the males, who in one very notable respect were extremely humanlike indeed, had to disguise their trouserless modesty beneath a series of discreet items of apparel whose ingenious complexity is not within the scope of this book.23

Major Rabbit consulted a fob watch that he kept in his waistcoat pocket and then moved to take the cases from the boot of the car. At the same time the front passenger door opened and Connie Rabbit climbed out, took a sniff of the air and looked around. She was wearing a leather jacket over a spotted summer dress and her ears were tied loosely at the base with a red bandana. Unusually, a small part of her tail peaked out from beneath her dress, the rabbit equivalent of a plunging neckline. Shocking in polite rabbit circles a decade ago, but mostly acceptable today.

The Spontaneous Anthropomorphic Event had taken place before I was born, so rabbits talking, wearing summer dresses or driving cars never seemed that unusual to me. Their appearance in 1965 had not been reported immediately as the whole thing was dismissed as an elaborate hoax, right up until the moment Franklin Rabbit chatted to Charles Wheeler live on the BBC’s Panorama Special.24 After that, every news station on the planet wanted to ‘talk to the rabbit’ and find out how this all came about, something which still remains elusive today. The initial scepticism and disbelief then turned to curiosity, celebration and acceptance before taking a downward spiral during the knotty issues regarding status and rights before changing, as their numbers rose, to suspicion, condemnation, hatred and fear. The journey from celebration to rejection had taken less than two decades.

I was startled by the phone ringing. I picked it up too fast, fumbled, dropped, then answered the phone. It was Norman Mallett.

‘It’s arrived!’ he said, as though announcing an outbreak of the bubonic plague. ‘Can you see them?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, returning to the window with the phone. ‘Two adults, two children. Why don’t you come round and talk to them?’

‘What? Don’t be ridiculous. Do they look as if they’ll be staying only a few nights?’

I looked out of the window as a large removals lorry reversed down the narrow lane, reverse warner beeping.

‘No, I think they’re here for a while.’

There was a pause on the phone and then the muffled sounds of people conversing. After a moment, Norman came back on the line, his voice sounding more strident.

‘Listen here, Knox. We’ve had our differences in the past, but there is a moment in everyone’s lives where they have to step up to the plate, be counted, grit their teeth and do the right thing for the community.’

‘And what is that thing?’ I asked, impressed he could cram five clichés into one sentence.

‘You’ve got some seriously objectionable centrist views, Knox, so you’ll be perfect cover. We need you to go in and … talk to the Rabbits. Get their confidence. Make friends if such a thing is possible. And when you think the moment is right, tell them they can have five grand in cash to shove off.’

‘She’s already got a lot of money,’ I said. ‘Compensation from the Compliance Taskforce after they leaked her husband’s address to TwoLegsGood.’

‘Conspiracy theory, Knox – unproved and untrue.’

It was a well-known fact around RabCoT that not only was this absolutely true, but the Senior Group Leader was the one who did it – and even boasted about it at the Christmas party the same year.

‘I really don’t think,’ I said slowly, ‘a measly five grand would be nearly enough.’

‘Bloodsuckers,’ he muttered. ‘Hasn’t she milked enough cash out of the public purse already? OK, Knox, you drive a hard bargain. We can go all the way up to seven, but not a penny more – unless they turn you down, then get back to me ASAP. Will you do that for us?’

I didn’t need to give it much thought. If there was a peaceful solution to the problem where everyone could be happy, I should probably try and make it happen. It wasn’t the only reason I was content to go over there – I wanted to see Connie again. If I reminded her who I was, it was possible she might remember me.

‘OK, then,’ I said. ‘I’ll let them settle for half an hour and then go and say hello.’

‘Splendid,’ said Norman in a friendlier tone. ‘I’ll get a progress report from you later. Keep your eyes peeled and best leave your wallet and mobile phone at home. You know what they’re like.’

I went down to the kitchen, dumped a bag of carrots into a wicker basket and then covered them with a gingham tea towel. I gave the Rabbits thirty minutes and walked across to the house, heart thumping, and knocked on the door. After a few seconds Connie opened it, and looked mildly shocked. She stared at me with her large, odd-coloured eyes for a moment then sniffed the air and looked at the basket. I noted that one of her ears – the top third of the left, actually – was tilted forward, and she smelled very faintly of warm, freshly turned earth.

‘Oh,’ she said with a timid smile, ‘is this a moving-in Carrot-o-gram? If so, it’s the first time I’ve seen a human do it. Are you really going to try and sing the Nhfiiihhnirff25 song?’

‘N–no,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I’m … your next-door neighbour. We met a few weeks back during the library Buchblitz.’

She stared at me for a moment, head sideways, one large eye faced towards me, the way rabbits usually did when scrutinising a person or object.

‘Actually,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘we met before that. A long time ago. It’s Peter Knox, isn’t it?’

I suddenly felt an odd sense of warmth that she remembered me, mixed with a sense of what I’d felt towards her back then.

‘Hello, Connie,’ I said, feeling myself start to tremble ever so slightly, ‘yes, it’s me. How have you been?’

‘Oh, generally favourable,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Lost a couple of husbands, gained a few children. Jobs here, jobs there – that sort of thing. Never did finish my degree, though. What about you?’

‘I got my degree but never used it,’ I said, trying to make my voice sound nonchalant and chatty instead of stilted and knotted. ‘I got married, had a daughter, came back to the family home to look after Dad. Worked for a while with the post office. I’m now an accountant, Library Blitzing on the side. Y’know. Stuff.’

‘I can see you live only for pleasure,’ she said, smiling agreeably. ‘Are you here to ask for that book to be returned? To be honest, I haven’t even started it. I used to read a lot when younger, but, well, time just gets away from us, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m not here about the book. I came over to say … welcome to Much Hemlock.’

‘A welcome?’ she said, staring at me intently. ‘I thought everyone in this village would have pictures of Nigel Smethwick on their walls and stuff.’

‘Some may do,’ I said, ‘but not all.’ I paused for a moment then asked: ‘Is a Carrot-o-gram actually a thing?’

‘Oh yes,’ she replied with a chuckle, ‘totally a thing.’

‘Ah.’

‘How did you recognise me from the library visit?’ she asked suddenly, and I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. I was under express orders not to reveal my skill. Outed Spotters occasionally went missing. And not ‘missing’ as in ‘went on a bender and turned up three days later’, but as in ‘missing and no one knows what happened to them’.

‘Your eyes,’ I said, ‘and the West Country accent.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, blinking so I could almost hear her long eyelashes swishing through the air, ‘those are a bit of a giveaway, aren’t they?’

We stood there for a moment.

‘It’s really good to see you again, Peter,’ she said, breaking the impasse and holding my hand in both of her incredibly soft paws. ‘A lot of catching up to do. Are those for me?’

She was pointing at the basket that contained the carrots.

‘For all of you,’ I said rather foolishly.

‘How … sweet,’ she said in an uncertain voice. ‘Really, you shouldn’t have troubled yourself.’

There was another uncertain pause. I could have left there and then, but I was on a mission – and I admit I was curious, and not just about reacquainting myself with Connie: it’s not often rabbits move in next door. I needed a conversation opener, so went for the most obvious.

‘Will your children be going to the local school?’

‘Not for a week or so,’ she replied, I think also relieved by the mundane direction in which the conversation had headed. ‘We need to speak to the headmistress Mrs Lomax about certain … special requirements.’

I decided to tackle the elephant in the room.

‘About being … rabbits?’ I said, in as matter-of-fact a tone as I could muster.

‘No,’ she replied innocently. ‘Bobby has a potentially fatal allergy to peanuts.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling awkward now that the elephant in the room had denied its own existence, ‘that must be very … challenging for him.’

‘Her. Roberta, but known as Bobby. Like in The Railway Children?’

‘I don’t remember that.’

‘Jenny Agutter played her in the movie.’

‘Ah, yes,’ I said, but not really remembering.

‘Who’s at the door?’ came a voice from inside the house.

‘This is Peter Knox, our new neighbour,’ said Connie, opening the door wider to reveal Major Rabbit hopping aggressively across the hall carpet. Since he was powerfully built and quite tall – at least six-four without the ears – I found him somewhat intimidating.

‘He and I shared a few lectures at Barnstaple University.’

‘Was he part of the infinitesimally small crowd that demonstrated against your expulsion?’

‘Well—’

‘I would have been there,’ I said, ‘but was away that weekend.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Major Rabbit.

‘At my aunt’s,’ I explained, making it suddenly sound even more of a lame excuse than it was, ‘she was ill.’

‘Hmm,’ said Major Rabbit, looking at Connie and then me, ‘were he and you a thing?’

‘Goodness me, no,’ said Connie with a laugh, ‘what an idea. No, we just did some coffee and films. Look,’ she added, ‘Peter brought over gifts.’

Major Rabbit took the basket from her, lifted the gingham tea towel, stared at the carrots for a moment and then scowled at me.

‘What is this? Some kind of joke?’

‘Clifford, please,’ said Connie, ‘you’re embarrassing me. I’m sure Peter had no idea. Fudds are just impossible when it comes to following our ways and customs.’

Major Rabbit ignored her and continued to stare at me in a menacing fashion. I noticed that one of his eyes was slightly milky, and his ears had a dozen or so duelling bullet holes, evidence of loves lost and won. His left ear had a kink a quarter of the way up where a wound had healed badly, but Mrs Griswold and Pippa had been right: he was ex-military – his blood group, tissue type and favourite strain of carrot26 were plainly visible, tattooed inside the right ear. Rabbits who had been marked in this manner never came up on our screens. No need.

‘Listen,’ I said, moving away slowly, ‘I meant no offence. I thought rabbits liked carrots, that’s all.’

‘Of course we like carrots. We live for carrots. We’d die for a sodding carrot. But not like that. Not scrubbed … topped … and in a basket.’

He stared at me dangerously, awaiting an explanation that I couldn’t give.

‘Clifford,’ said Connie more firmly, ‘calm is as calm does, remember?’

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I’ve no idea what I’ve done to offend you, but whatever it is, I apologise. I’m your neighbour.’

I pointed across the dividing hedge to my house and both Connie and Major Rabbit looked at my house for a moment, twitched their noses in unison, looked at each other, then back at me.

‘It was simply a moving-in present,’ I added, ‘but I can see this is bad timing. I’ll leave you in peace.’

I turned to go but Major Rabbit took a powerful bound and was instantly at my side. He laid a paw on my shoulder.

‘You had no idea?’

‘Listen,’ I said, warming to my task, ‘I’ll admit there’s been some negative sentiments about you moving here, but I’d thought and try and show you that despite the vocal minority, some of us are at least—’ I tried to think of the right phrase ‘—harmlessly indifferent.’

Major Rabbit looked back at Connie, then at me, then smiled.

‘If you’re merely selling indifference, we’ll buy that with cabbage. I think I owe you an apology.’

He slapped me on the back.

‘I’m Major Clifford Rabbit, DSC, Powys Regiment.’

We shook hand/paws.

‘Mr Knox,’ he said after thinking for a moment, ‘have you ever tried meadowfield stew?’

I had to admit that I hadn’t.

‘We shall deal with this woeful lapse in your life experience. Constance, my sweet? Are we busy tomorrow night?’

‘Bridge club in Ross,’ she said. ‘No, wait, that’s the night after.’

‘Good,’ said Major Rabbit, ‘how about tomorrow night?’

‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘I’d love to.’

‘Excellent – and please, Mr Knox, bring your daughter.’

‘How did you know I had a daughter?’

‘From the size of her clothes on the washing line,’ he said, seemingly without looking in that direction at all. ‘She’s probably nineteen or twenty, slim build. Working in management, I think.’

He leaned closer and sniffed at me delicately.

‘But there’s no scent of adult female on you,’ he continued, seemingly quite carried away with his own precise observations. ‘You are not partnered, but it’s not by choice. I can smell emptiness, loss and a deep melanch—’

‘That’s enough, sweetness,’ said Connie, walking up from the porch and taking her husband’s arm. ‘You can bring your elder brother, too, if you want, Peter. Have you had him tested? He looks a little simple.’

I frowned.

‘I don’t have a brother.’

‘No? Then you have a burglar. I saw him nipping furtively into your back door while we were standing here talking. Had a sort of lumpy face that looked like a pothole repair done in haste and on a limited budget.’

‘That’ll be my gardener,’ I said, realising she was describing Norman Mallett with alarming precision. He must be there lurking, wanting to quiz me. I looked at Connie and Clifford in turn.

‘You seem very … observant.’

‘Almost three hundred and ten degrees peripheral vision,’ said Clifford, pointing at his large eyes. ‘We can see front, back and top. In fact,’ he added with a sense of pride, ‘we can almost see better behind us than in front. If you were once prey, it pays to know what’s going on around you at all times.’

‘That must be very useful.’

‘It certainly doesn’t stink.’

‘Sensing almost everything around us gives us an edge,’ explained Connie, ‘in a hostile environment.’

‘Well,’ I said with a smile, preparing to leave, ‘I hope you don’t find Much Hemlock too much of a hostile environment.’

But they didn’t return my smile.

‘I certainly hope that is the case,’ said Major Rabbit evenly. ‘Shall we say eight o’clock tomorrow, then?’

I had just got back to my own front door when the genuine Carrot-o-gram turned up – four rabbits dressed in stripy blazers and straw boaters. The Rabbity language in song sounded like a series of continuous delicate sneezes, but in four-part harmony.

‘What a load of nonsense,’ said Norman, who had indeed made his way into my house, and was now watching the Carrot-o-gram from behind the safety of the net curtains in the front room. ‘What did you learn, Knoxie?’

‘Not much. I’m going over there for a meal tomorrow evening.’

‘Good man. But don’t get too cosy. Just make friends and then persuade them that twelve thousand would buy an awful lot of carrots.’

‘You said seven thousand earlier.’

‘The vicar came on board – I think he must be raiding the church roof appeal or something. Actually, we could probably run to fifteen but keep that under your hat, yes?’

I told him I would then saw him out the back door.

‘Act like you’re my gardener,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘They clocked you coming into my house, so it’s your cover story.’

‘Hell’s teeth,’ he said, ‘can’t a fella keep a close watch on stuff without nosy neighbours studying his every move?’

I closed the door behind him, not really thinking about the bribe and the task in hand, but about Connie. I knew what I had felt seeing her again, but wasn’t sure whether she had felt the same – either now, or back when we were nineteen. I could recognise rabbits, but I couldn’t read them. There’s a big difference.