The Constant Rabbit

‘Clifford is a wonderful husband. Upright, tall, intelligent, ambitious and driven – but if I’m having another litter, they probably shouldn’t be his.’

I asked her why not, and she said it was ‘a rabbit thing’. She lingered over the iceberg lettuce, then sniffed at some romaine before picking up a twin-pack of Little Gem lettuces.

‘Technically they’re actually miniature cos,’ she said, something of an expert, ‘and have a good resistance to root aphid. Did you know the ancient Egyptians considered lettuce a symbol of sexual prowess and fertility?’

‘I know it now.’

‘Is anyone watching?’ she asked in a mischievous tone.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Is there?’

I looked around.

‘No.’

She took one of the Little Gem lettuces out of its cellophane.

‘My second husband and I used to pop a Little Gem during … y’know. It increases the chance of ovulation.²⁹’

Then, without pausing, she downed the Little Gem in a single gulp.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then shivered until her light brown fur stood out in a low ridge down her back. She held her breath, then exhaled a lungful of salady breath with a low sigh.

‘Zowzer,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘The Soil Association lettuces give the biggest hit. Look, you’d better have this.’

She handed me the remaining lettuce.

‘If I come home with a Little Gem missing out of a two-pack, Clifford will be insanely suspicious. Oh-oh. Trouble.’

I turned to look behind me and could see the security guard deep in conversation with two of the disapproving shoppers, who were looking our way and pointing. I turned back to say something to Connie but she’d slipped away.

‘Was that rabbit anything to do with you?’ asked the store guard as he strode up.

‘Which one?’

‘The one who handed you the half-opened Little Gem – because it would make her husband jealous if she didn’t.’

‘That happens a lot, does it?’

‘More than you might think. So: was that rabbit anything to do with you?’

‘Well, no, not really – we’d just met.’

He grunted and moved away. I walked up and down the aisles trying to find Connie and eventually spotted her outside, walking briskly through the parking lot towards her car. I watched her climb into the Dodge, then reverse out of the car park and away. When at uni I’d liked her off-kilter character mixed with her utter directness, and I liked it now, too. I also knew that sooner or later, by accident or design, she’d find out about my role in the death of her second husband, Dylan Rabbit – and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

Senior Group Leader

Myxomatosis was used as an anti-rabbit bacteriological agent from the early nineteenth century, most notably in Australia in 1950. The disease initially affects the eyes and genitals, which may grow tumours or myxomata. Secondary infections of pneumonia soon follow, and the rabbit is generally dead within two weeks of infection. There is no cure.

When I got back to the office I found Flemming and Lugless at my terminal, going through my semi-choices and rejections of the morning. Flemming had an Admin password so could access all my work, which didn’t surprise me.

‘Not much luck, then?’ she asked.

‘It’s a long and tedious process,’ I said, ‘and can’t really be rushed.’

‘In that case,’ said Lugless, ‘I think what this project needs is an increased sense of purpose. We told him you’d drop in and offer up a progress report as soon as you got back.’

The warning bells started ringing.

‘Drop in and see who?’

‘Who do you think? The Senior Group Leader.’

I started. No one liked to meet the Senior Group Leader, especially if you were key personnel in an important investigation that had made no headway. I tried to think up a reasoned series of robust arguments that would bring everyone around to my way of thinking while also being cowed by my intellect and sharpness of wit, but all I could come up with was ‘Do I have to?’ in a whiny sort of voice.

‘Of course not,’ said Flemming, ‘but you will because I’m ordering you to. Oh, and you’re to drop into accounts on the way down. I think they have something they want taken to him.’

Flemming and Lugless both returned to their desks, the conversation over. I sighed, then walked slowly down the hall to where the head of Accounts was waiting for me with a bulging brown envelope attached to a petty cash form. I knew what it contained. The Senior Group Leader had many peculiar habits, and one of them was insisting on being paid cash for any ‘special services’.

‘Thanks for doing this,’ she said nervously. ‘I’d do it myself, of course, but I have a pressing dental appointment.’

She held her jaw and winced in a dramatic fashion to drive home the point, reminded me to get a signature for the cash and then vanished back into her office.