The Constant Rabbit полностью

‘I’d agree with that. We like to enjoy the fruits not just of being rabbits, but being partly human, too.’

‘Such as?’

‘Speech is super-useful, along with reason, free will and abstract thought. Appreciation of literature, music and the visual arts is also a winner. We especially like Barbara Hepworth and Preston Sturges’ films – plus anything with Jimmy Stewart or Dame Maggie Smith.’

She sucked her lip and thought some more.

‘But there are drawbacks, too: the knowledge of one’s own demise is a bit of a downer, like a massive spoiler alert, and your spiteful sense of illogical hatred does take a little getting used to. It’s just all so, well, pointless – and such a waste of spirit, especially when you think what could be achieved with a little more unity and focus.’

She fell silent for a few moments.

‘But oddly, hate’s counter-emotion does ameliorate the sense of waste. We had a serious amount of sex when we were rabbits – still do – but it brings everything to an all-new high when love is brought into the mix. It’s like – I don’t know – listening to a six-year-old attempting “A Spoonful of Sugar” on a kazoo for your entire life, then discovering Puccini.’

‘It’s a winner,’ I agreed, ‘but only if the object of that love loves you back.’

‘True,’ she said, ‘and we are often surprised when love strikes in a sometimes illogical and arbitrary fashion.’

Her voice had been becoming gradually softer as she spoke. I shifted my weight on the sofa.

‘I’ll be honest,’ she said, staring intently into my eyes. ‘From the moment I first saw you I knew that we would be together, no matter how insane that was. That love would find a way. That love will always find a way.’

I stared at her, not quite believing what I was hearing. I’d felt the same, too, all those years ago, and still felt it now. Had always felt it. And just as I was wondering how you kiss a rabbit – or even if you kiss a rabbit at all – she suddenly recomposed herself and said in an abrupt fashion: ‘Line.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s your line. In the script.’

‘Oh,’ I said, and in something of a panic looked down and simply read the first line I could see.

‘I’ve been impregnated by your uncle,’ I said, ‘and it feels like it might be octuplets.’

‘I think we’ve missed a page,’ she murmured, taking my script and flipping back a leaf and tapping the first line. ‘Here we are.’

‘You’re very attractive,’ I said, reading the script, ‘but this won’t work.’

‘Yes, you say that,’ she said, ‘but it can’t have escaped your attention that there has been something between us, something stronger than both of us – a mutual attraction that transcends the tiresome normalities of everyday life.’

I didn’t say anything, and she blinked at me.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said.

‘Say whatever you feel,’ she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward.

‘No,’ I said, ‘I really don’t know what to say. I think your ink cartridge ran out.’

I held up the script by way of explanation.

‘Oh!’ she said, looking flustered. ‘Kent must have been using the printer again. Drat that boy.’ She then added: ‘Is it hot in here?’

‘It is quite hot,’ I said.

‘Then you don’t mind if I remove my cardig …’

She’d stopped speaking because there was a knock at the front door.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘It’s Doc.’

‘Isn’t he in the Middle East?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, ‘then maybe Rupert.’

‘Isn’t that affair finished?’

‘No, no, not that Rupert. Another Rupert. He told Doc he’d keep an eye on me in case I was planning to initiate a spousal appropriation. How are you with a duelling pistol?’

‘What?’

‘Just my joke,’ she said. ‘Actually, since they’ve knocked on the door, they’re not likely to be a rabbit at all, are they?’

‘Unless,’ I said slowly, ‘they’re a rabbit pretending to be a human in order to put either you or me off guard?’

‘Good point,’ she said. ‘Do you have a cupboard in which I could hide?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes – hiding in cupboards from suspicious partners has a strong tradition in rabbit culture. Really, Peter, this is all totally normal.’

I opened the broom cupboard, and then, after picking a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo out of her bag along with a torch, Connie stepped elegantly inside.

‘Oooh,’ she said, looking around, ‘you have a Henry vacuum cleaner. Any good?’

‘Very good. Not a word now.’

She sat down on the Henry and opened the book, then flicked on the torch. I had the feeling that she might have done this before – many times.

I walked through to the hallway and opened the front door. But it wasn’t a rabbit, or a rabbit pretending to be a human. It was a human: a Toby Mallett sort of human.

Toby’s Torn T-shirt

Traditionally, carrots were a treat, not a staple, and aside from garden raids and compost heaps, unknown to Wildstock before the Event. While they are harmless in small amounts, overindulgence can lead to issues very similar to alcoholism in humans.