None of this happened because rabbits had a generally more robust relationship with consequences than humans, and the agents’ commands to halt were met with a series of giggles from the Labstocks, who mingled briefly to confuse us before running off in separate directions as though it were some sort of jolly game.
‘Don’t just stand there like a twat, Knox,’ came Lugless’s voice in my earpiece, ‘get after the fourth.’
I had until that time been stunned into inactivity by the sudden turn of events. I was, after all, a Spotter – not a Field Agent. This wasn’t what I did. Even so, I looked around and saw the fourth Labstock walking in a relaxed manner towards the ancient Market House at the top of the main street.
‘Look,’ I said into my microphone while pretending to rub my mouth, ‘I’m not trained for this. I’m not sure I even have the power of arrest.’
‘I don’t want you to arrest him, idiot,’ came Lugless’s voice, ‘I want you to get a good look at him.’
This seemed reasonable so I walked up the road in the direction the Labstock had gone, lost sight of him as he walked to the right of the Market House, then caught another glimpse of him walking up the steps to the churchyard once I’d reached Rossiter’s bookshop.18 When I got to the churchyard I just caught sight of him as he vanished in through the door. I walked in an unhurried pace towards the church, acutely aware that the only people near me were rabbits. And although they weren’t looking in my direction, the rabbit’s peripheral vision was so good, it’s safe to assume that if you can see a rabbit, they can see you.
I stopped to tie the whippet to the foot-scraper and took the opportunity to whisper into the microphone.
‘Flopsy suspect in the church, but this could be a trap. The whole set-up might simply have been to bag a Spotter.’
This could indeed be true. Spotters were forbidden to go on-colony for that very reason, though my identity and job at the Taskforce were well guarded: hence the accountant cover story.
‘Of secondary consideration,’ came Lugless’s voice. ‘I want every single one of those fat furry bastards in the clink before teatime.’
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, then pushed open the door and stepped inside the church. It was a good size, imposing but not overgrand, and boasted a double nave and tall stained-glass windows. A vicar was humming to himself while tidying the leaflets, postcards and guidebooks that were arranged on a small table.
I looked around to see whether I could spot my quarry. There were two rabbits inside, one Wildstock, one Labstock – and both were dressed in the sort of pale blue tabard that befits a church volunteer. I thought it was a different Labstock, but then I noticed an identical shooting jacket to the one 7770 had worn hung on a peg in the vestry, and it was still swinging from being hurriedly placed. I was just going to wander over to the Labstock on the pretext of studying several old tombs when the vicar caught my eye.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said.
‘Good afternoon,’ I replied genially. ‘I see you have our furry friends19 as volunteers.’
Although the rabbit religion had no issue with where and when you worshipped, nor who, it was still unusual to see them in a church, probably because churches were as far from a cosy moss-and-fur-lined warren as you were likely to get.
‘Yes indeed,’ said the vicar. ‘Saint Mary’s is a church that accepts everyone through its doors, irrespective of taxonomic classification.’
I wasn’t going to get any closer to the Labstock without conversing at least a little to allay suspicion, and the Labstock did not seem to be in a hurry to leave.
‘Back home in Harrogate where I come from as I am a Yorkshireman, we have no rabbits,’ I said. ‘What is the Church’s view?’
The vicar nodded his head thoughtfully.
‘The Church’s opinion is divided. Although we here on the ground consider rabbits as just one of many of God’s blessed creatures, the official line is that they are a lower animal, and when they arrived they were viewed as an abomination – the sinful product of a satanic union. When that was disproved from the DNA evidence, our stance softened. I think the problem is that while humanlike, they are not actually humanful, and according to scripture and teaching, mankind was made in His image, as they were in their Grand Matriarch Lago’s. Church policy is that we don’t allow them to participate in church matters but we will not exclude them from our house – so long as there is no crunching of lettuces from the pews and pellets are kept to an absolute minimum.’
He paused for thought, then recited his next comment as though learned from a crib sheet.
‘We must love all God’s creatures, but allow change and acceptance to happen slowly and at a pace commensurate with acceptable norms and customs.’
‘I see,’ I said, and after making some excuse about wanting to view some particularly fine statuary, moved towards where the Labstock was still dusting. If he knew I was from the Taskforce he made no sign of it, and even nodded a greeting. But of distinguishing marks on his coat or whiskers or eyes – there was nothing.
‘With you in five, Knox,’ came Lugless’s voice in my ear. ‘Confirm to me suspect still in church.’
I tapped the microphone twice on my wrist, and stared with feigned interest at the impressive array of tombs, glad that the other agents would take the burden of action from me. I had done a fair job, and should not be poorly thought of. My career might very well still be secure.
I heard the doors to the church open on both sides, and turned, expecting to see the agents arrive. But it wasn’t them, it was more rabbits – and all of them Labstock. Nine all told, and they hastily grabbed volunteer tabards that the vicar was handing out. Within a few minutes they would all be hopelessly mingled. I looked across at the target Labstock, who was staring back at me with a smile on his placid features. He was definitely the one we were after, and once the other Labstocks had moved in and around him, I would have no way of pointing him out, or even finding out who he was.
But I was wrong, for at that moment the sun came out, and shone through the church window, transfixing Flopsy 7770 in a shaft of white light that perfectly illuminated his ears. There, on his left, about two-thirds of the way up, was a unique pattern of capillaries that looked like a squashed Tudor rose.
I didn’t have time to make comment as the influx of bustling Labstock church volunteers gathered in a clump around us, moving and whirling and mixing so that within a short space of time I had no idea who was who. I was impressed. 7770 had been smarter, and quicker, and one step ahead of Lugless. There was definitely a Rabbit Underground, and the Labstock – whoever he was – had been part of it. And if I saw him again I’d know exactly who he was.
So long as he had a bright light behind him.
Griswold & Gossip
Because of their dislike of obsolescence, rabbits only chose domestic appliances that would last a minimum of half a century. Dualit toasters were favoured, as were Hoovermatic washing machines, vintage Kenwood Chef food mixers, seventies push-button phones, treadle sewing machines and large-format cameras. They loved wet-chemistry photography; the older the process the better.
‘How was work?’ asked Pippa when I got home after the debriefing. Even to my own daughter I had always maintained I was a low-level payroll accountant. I told someone I was a Spotter once, and there had been consequences. I didn’t want that again.