(Vegetables) Chapter Thirty: Attack Of The Evil Rabbits

It was later on that evening, and the atmosphere in the barn was a glittering wall of big band sound. Rosa had wrangled tickets for herself and Morwen, on the strength of Felindre covering the double bass position in the band. Rosa looked amazing, having somehow cobbled together a perfect replica 1950s dress from a pair of curtains and a few bits and pieces. She’d even curled her hair in the right style, and looked like she’d stepped off a film set.

Felindre alternated between looking annoyed and bored. When she was concentrating on the music, plucking away at the bass strings, she looked bored. When she looked out at the dancing and saw Rosa being thrown around the dance floor by a succession of handsome and well-groomed young men, she looked annoyed.

“God, I hate walking bass lines,” said Felindre to Morwen at the bar, during a break in the live music. She tugged on her hair, and her flower hairclip fell out.

“Dammit!” she cursed.

“Here,” said Morwen, “let me help.”

“Bloody thing won’t stay in,” said Felindre crossly. “And I’m wearing a skirt.”

“Suits you,” said Morwen. “There, got it. It should stay in now.”

“If you value your life, never speak of this to anyone,” Felindre replied. Then, to the barman: “Double vodka and orange, please.”

Rosa bounced over to them, with another young man in tow.

“Fel, you look amazing!” she squealed. “And Mor, what a fabulous dress! That colour is so you!”

She grabbed hold of the young man’s arm, and pulled him closer into the group.

“This is Chas,” she said, “and he’s an amazing dancer, I mean he’s just brilliant! Knows all the moves and really makes a girl look good on the dancefloor, know what I mean?”

She giggled. Felindre’s grasp on her drink tightened, the knuckles whitening. Chas looked embarrassed, and subtly tried to extract his arm from Rosa’s grasp, but failed.

“Oh, it’s not me,” he demurred. “Rosa’s got a natural talent for this style of dance. I can’t believe she hasn’t done it before.”

“Oh, stop!” said Rosa, getting even more high pitched⁸¹ and slapping him playfully on the shoulder with her spare hand.

If looks could kill, the look Felindre was giving poor Chas could have taken him out, and half of London as well. Fortunately, before she could do anything other than glare, the group were joined by another young woman.

“Nics!” said Chas in obvious relief. “There you are!”

Nics eyes narrowed as she saw Rosa’s hold on Chas’ arm.

“This is Nics, my wife,” said Chas hurriedly.

Rosa turned to Nics enthusiastically, not letting go of Chas’ arm.

“Lovely to meet you,” she said. “Do you dance as well as Chas? He’s an amazing dancer!”

“He’s had a lot of practise,” said Nics, coldly.

Felindre glared at Chas. Chas sent beseeching glances to Nics. Nics scowled at Rosa. Rosa smiled at everyone, oblivious.

Morwen jumped into the conversation before anything else could be said which might progress the current cold war into total global annihilation.

“Hi, I’m Morwen, and this is Felindre, Rosa’s girlfriend.”

“Excuse me,” Felindre grated. “But I’m due back to play now.”

She knocked back her drink in one, and stalked off across the dance floor.

Rosa dropped Chas’ arm, to his obvious relief, and watched Felindre walk away.

“Was it something I said?” she asked, plaintively.

“Go after her, you twit,” hissed Morwen.

Rosa obeyed, leaving Nics and Chas looking at each other and at Morwen, who felt obliged to say something.

“Don’t worry, they’ll sort it out,” she said. “They always do, though I hope they get the shouting over with somewhere else.”

There was another awkward moment. Then, out of the blue, Nics said:

“That’s an amazing necklace. Do you mind if I ask where you got it?”

“This?” asked Morwen, touching the ladybird necklace that Richard had given her. “It was a present from my boyfriend.”

Both Nics and Chas were looking intently at her and her necklace now.

“It’s beautiful, so detailed,” said Nics. “Do you know where he got it from?”

“No, sorry,” said Morwen.

“Could you find out? It’s such an amazing piece, and I’d love to meet its maker.”

Morwen was spared the effort of replying, because her phone chose that moment to ring with the opening phrase of “The Ride of the Valkeries”. Both Chas and Nics flinched visibly.

“Sorry,” said Morwen, not-entirely-honestly. “I’d better take this.”

She answered the phone as she walked out of the barn back towards the house.

“Hello?”

It was Richard.

“You rang?” he asked.

“Not me,” said Morwen. “You did.”

“No, but it’s nice to talk to you anyway. How’s things over there?”

“Well, if you discount the Spanish Inquisition by my mother, a double bass player hallucinating elephants performing Hamlet, Rosa and Felindre nearly having a massive row in the middle of a 1950s dance and a strange couple showing an unhealthy interest in the necklace you gave me, it’s all going fine thanks.”

“Oh,” said Richard. “Glad to hear it. Tell me about this couple. If they recognised my work, they might be trouble.”

Morwen filled him in as she walked back to the house. On the way, she walked past a shadow containing several rabbits⁸² dragging something heavy, another containing a hunting hedgehog, and yet another containing a snogging couple. She’d just walked past that particular shadow when she heard a familiar giggle, Rosa’s.

“Didn’t take Rosa and Felindre long to kiss and make up,” she told Richard when she was safely out of earshot. “Thank God for that too – I have to share a bedroom with them tonight.”

A thought struck her. “Oh God, maybe I’d better find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Richard asked. “I can be there in no time at all.”

“No need,” said Morwen, “I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

They said their goodnights, and Morwen went into the kitchen, where Ruth was up making a cup of tea and looking worried.

“Have you seen your father recently?” Ruth asked. “He went out after tea, and I was expecting him in a while ago now, but he’s not back yet. I thought he might be at the barn?”

“No,” said Morwen, “I haven’t. I’ll go check the shed and the gardens, ok?”

The light was still on in the shed. Morwen opened the door to see her father tied up on the floor with a head of lettuce in his mouth.

“Dad! Who did this to you?”

She rushed over, pulled the lettuce out and untied him. Whoever it was had tied him up wasn’t very good at knots, so had compensated by practically cocooning him in the garden hose. Daffyd coughed and spluttered.

“Bloody multi-coloured rabbits!” he said. “Jumped me, tied me up and stole your book. Sorry love.”

“Don’t worry about the book,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” said Daffyd. “Need a cup of tea to get the taste of lettuce out mind. Not my first choice as a gag, see?”

“Why would they use lettuce?” pondered Morwen. “Why that and not something else?”

SISE answered the question, though neither Morwen nor Daffyd were expecting it to.

“It is commonly believed that lettuce is a soporific for rabbits. Perhaps they thought it would send him to sleep.”

“Ah,” said Daffyd. “Didn’t work though, did it? Bloody rabbits.”

___

⁸¹ A couple of tones higher, and bats would be falling out of the sky.
⁸² At least one was a colour not traditionally associated with rabbits (zebra striped), but it was dark, so Morwen didn’t notice. That, and she was too busy talking to Richard.