The Odd Bunnies

by Sam Cullan

  Chapter Five

  The return journey to Will's house was more silent than the outward one. Both had spilled their beans, and felt comfortable with the outcome. The Rover swept into the close and pulled up, facing the fence. Will allowed Alice the privilege of being closest to his front door.

  Once inside, Alice darted into the bathroom. “Me first!”

  Will turned on Ellie Broadbottom. He hadn't intended to, but it was time for the afternoon news. He thought it polite to turn up Ellie so it was obvious he wasn't listening in on Alice's bathroom break. He then turned Ellie down, and made some noise so that Alice knew he wasn't lurking by the bathroom door.

  Alice washed her hands and turned on the bathroom heater. Will could hear the powerful fan whirring and vibrating through the thin walls. Alice returned, clean and freshened.

  “Nice hand dryer.”

  “It's a heater.”

  “Yeah, but it dries.”

  “Good for hair, too.”

  Will darted into the bathroom. Four cups of tea had taken their toll. Alice looked around the lounge and Ellie told her it might be best to stay in tonight, as she could expect some wind. Alice wasn't the sort of girl to be put off by a wind problem. Still, she had no plans to expose herself tonight. Her eyes were drawn to the two bookcases that featured in opposite corners of the lounge. Both were stuffed full to overflowing with books, maps, leaflets and magazines. She turned to the one nearest the signed photo of her, recoiling at the thought she'd chosen that particular photo for such a nice fan. She would have to put that right.

  Bookcase number one had maps, of varying scales, covering every part of Britain. There were road maps, geological maps, street maps, maps covered in plastic film, maps without covers. There were booklets of maps, atlases, guides, touristy maps. Alice supposed that Will would be a good person to have as a guide for any future visits to Britain. Below the map section, there were books. Paperback books mostly, from trashy novels to Shakespeare to expert guides on growing roses. There seemed no logical order, but Alice quickly deduced they were arranged by size. Below the paperbacks were hardbacks, and Alice recognized many of the names – Shakespeare, Dickens, Longfellow, Elliot, Hemingway, Twain, Conan Doyle, Carroll, Wells, Adams, Swift. There were many more, but she got the picture.

  She ambled over to the second bookcase - a cheap, laminated chipboard unit with six deep, bulging shelves. Apart from a short-sighted meerkat in a green cardigan and a bottom shelf crammed with National Geographic magazines, it contained mostly hardback books. Some were fiction, but most were factual. Three shelves held volumes dedicated to the local area, notably its geography, history and legends. Another two shelves held reference works, including the biggest dictionary and thesaurus Alice had ever seen.

  To the right of this bookcase, a home-made unit displayed a range of DVDs in alphabetical order across two shelves. Every episode of Buffy and Angel was there, as she expected, in smart book-like volumes. Also as expected, there were at least a dozen vampire movies, countless horrors and thrillers, and numerous comedies. It took Alice a while to figure out that every film she'd made, including those where she only appeared for a few minutes, was there in DVD form. Some of the DVDs were imported – Will had gone to a lot of trouble to complete her collection.

  Will bounced back from the bathroom. “Some good films there, and some not so good.”

  “Dare I ask which are the not-so-good?”

  Will pointed to a spine.

  “I only worked on it for a day.” Alice feigned pique.

  “I know, and it was the best day's work you've done. I just didn't get it.”

  “Anything else you're unhappy with?”

  Will pointed again. “Lacks conviction.”

  “I was on screen for about one minute!”

  Will grinned. “Touchy, aren't we?”

  Alice punched Will. Will punched Alice. Alice kicked his shin, and Will cried.

  Alice tried a different tactic.

  “Which is your favourite?”

  Will pointed.

  “Really? Why?”

  “Nice hair.”

  Alice feigned exasperation.

  “Seriously, do you want me to comment on all your movies?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I can't really fault any of your performances.”

  Alice politely feigned disbelief.

  “Seriously, I wouldn't buy every film you made unless I thought you were a brilliant actor!”

  “Guess not.” Alice was hoping for a more detailed appraisal.

  “I found some of the films a little tedious, but I'm a cynical old fart who craves originality and stimulation.” He added quickly “And none of the tedium was down to you.” Will pulled a DVD out and explained in detail why it wasn't one of his favourite films, and made a number of critical comments that quite impressed Alice, who nevertheless disagreed vehemently.

  After an hour or so during which Will heaped praise on most of Alice's performances, they both agreed she was a very good actor who probably should've won an Oscar or two, but the really big, important role had so far escaped her. Will said he would write a script that couldn’t fail to impress the judges, when he could be arsed. Alice knew he was a fan, but she enjoyed being told why.

  Will was getting hungry. “You got plans for tonight?”

  Alice hadn't thought much about it. “Not really, but I need to get back to my hotel.”

  “Just thinking about dinner. You're welcome to stay, but I've not got a lot in.” Will never had a lot in.

  “We could go out. If you don't mind giving me a life to my hotel first, so I can change.”

  Will didn't mind at all, though he now had to worry about his own appearance.

  “I should change. Don't say it.”

  Alice smirked. “I can wait.”

  “OK, feel free to watch TV or a film. This is a good one,” Will plucked Scary Movie from the shelf, “or there's two, three, four.”

  Alice was surprised. “Why this?”

  “Funny. And Anna Faris. She's brilliant. Or try this.” He picked out two more Anna Faris movies.

  “You like her more than me?”

  Will carefully considered his options, and settled on silence. But he shook his head and winked, just in case she took umbrage. Will bolted to the bathroom and ran a shower. Alice put Anna back on the shelf and turned up the volume on the TV, where a local news reporter was imparting a salutary tale of woe involving a superfluity of nuns who’d got into a scrape at a crab festival. She jumped back into the wrong end of the sofa and promptly sunk into a depression shaped like Will's backside.

  Will took a speed shower and threw on an old blue towelling robe which was at least two sizes too small. Conscious of the effect this might have on an impressionable young lady, he shouted a warning. Alice lowered her eyelids as he hastily crossed the lounge and flew up the stairs.

  “Nice legs.”

  “Thanks.” Will was fortunate that they were one part of his body that didn't embarrass him. As a child, he'd been very active. Every day saw a new adventure, and he ran and cycled for fun. One of his favourite games was running to a location while his dad drove, to see if he could get there first. He never did of course, but he developed strong legs, heart and lungs. He remained strong, but the muscle tone in his upper body was suffering from a poor diet and sedentary lifestyle. He decided if his new-found friend were to be around long he'd take action to rectify that, if for no other reason than not to embarrass her in public.

  He quickly changed into his smartest jeans and a proper shirt that had buttons and a collar. The cheap deodorant was substituted with a cheapish but inoffensive aftershave, out of a bottle he'd kept for 20 years, just in case.

  “Do I need a tie?”

  “Why, are you planning on strangling me?”

  “Yes. Will a tie do it?”

  “Use your hands. It's more personal.”

  Will was relieved. He didn't mind ties and even had a r
ack of them, although mustard and red Paisley Kippers had gone out of fashion just as he had started wearing them, around 1975. But mostly he didn't wear them because he hated doing up his top button, and most of his shirts were bought when his neck was an inch smaller. He found a jacket which would keep him warm and was new enough not to look shabby.

  “Right. Ready.”

  Alice sent a text to Marvin telling him to take the night off. “Ready.”

  It was dark, so Alice boldly exited the house and stood still, breathing in the sweet air. Here on the outskirts of Newington close to a river estuary it was relatively fresh, though lacking the clean taste and smell of the sea air a few miles away in Saltymouth. Will opened the passenger door, and bowed respectfully as Alice slid gracefully into the seat. He waited until she was buckled in and carefully closed the door. He walked around the front of the car so she could see he wasn't armed with a garish kipper, even though it meant fighting off a withering buddleia trying to escape from his neighbour's garden. He opened his door and slid the ignition key into the illuminated lock. Will loved that illuminated cylinder surround, a pleasing orange glow guiding the key no matter how dark, or how tired and emotional one might be. He turned it part way, and by the time he'd strapped himself in the Rover was ready to go.

  “Scenic route?”

  “It's kinda dark.”

  “Show you where I grew up. Closer to Guffwell.”

  Alice's eyes lit up at the thought of being closer to the grail. “Sure, if it's not too far.”

  “Takes about fifteen minutes longer - say 40 instead of 25 to the hotel.”

  Alice looked into the plain white dial of her gold watch. The hands were pointing to the eight and the seven, which Will told her was a twenty to seven.

  She thanked him. “These gold watches are nice, but it's so hard to tell the time when you're a simple southern gal like me.”

  “You could've looked at that.” He pointed at a garbled orange display in the middle of the dash.

  “It's all garbled.”

  Will agreed that it was, and pointed out it was a common fault on these cars. Alice suggested he buy a Range Rover like hers. Will asked for a loan but Alice refused. Will told her to stop complaining or she could walk, and Alice stopped complaining.

  “Tell you what, I'll buy you a new car if you help me find what I want.”

  “Really? I couldn't. It's too much.” Will was picturing a black Range Rover with heated leather seats and lots of fog lights, which would be handy in this part of the country. It would cope with these steep hills and the winter fog, snow and ice, very nicely thank you.

  “OK.”

  “OK it's too much?”

  “If you say so. I don't want to offend you.”

  “And if I promise not to be offended?”

  Alice smiled and wrinkled her nose. The Rover was warm and the turbo-charged engine pulled it easily up the long steep hill that took it from the estate into the countryside. It wallowed in every corner, but with an eye for a good driving line and expert throttle control Will hustled the car quickly through the unlit lanes, a route he knew so well he said he could do it blindfolded; Alice declined a demonstration. The car flew along the twisty, hilly lanes, the like of which Alice had not encountered before. Will explained that it was safe to drive 'quickly' because you could see cars coming at night, as long as they had lights on.

  “Do people drive without lights here?”

  Will smirked. “Of course not, unless they're drunk.”

  “Oh well that's just fine and dandy.” Alice was wondering what her manager would make of this, what with insurance costing so much already. She'd had to cajole her mom into pretending they were away together on a private holiday, just so she could embark on this quest.

  As the Rover approached the first hamlet, Will slowed to a more sensible pace. He knew there might be people, dogs, tractors, quad bikes and even horses. Country people were just so road-unaware. Street lamps and antique porch lights lit up a succession of pretty cottages with brightly painted cob walls, intricate rustic woodwork and thick, dark thatched roofs. Even at night, Alice could appreciate their character.

  “This is so gorgeous.”

  Will didn't reply. He was too busy looking out for country bumpkins who expected people like him to slow down. Once out into the dark, he recommenced commentary. Alice was not used to listening this much, because people usually listened to her. She had sought him out on that very premise - that he would listen to her, because she usually had so much to say. This was not really how she'd planned it.

  “This is nice.”

  Will was in the dark. “Err, the dark?”

  Alice sighed the contented sigh of a person with warmth in their heart and bones. Will was a little too well insulated.

  “Listening. Learning.”

  “Oh well, I like to talk and teach, so you stalked the right person.”

  “Yes … yes, I did.”

  Will continued to pump Alice's heart and bones with anecdotes from his past. He had a story to relate to most of the buildings they passed, and if he didn't he would modify a suitable one to fit. He'd grown up here, learned to drive in these lanes, fallen down inside and outside all of the pubs, heard tales of smuggling and scandal, and inspired tales of smuggling and scandal. The Rover had faithfully tracked the river for four miles and now turned sharp left, crossing a long, low bridge with lots of old pillars of uneven length that barely held it above high water. Alice looked right as a town came into view, bright colours dancing past the Rover's windows. The bulk of a great steel object with towering masts of light loomed in the distance, then another appeared. A fishy odour permeated the Rover's cabin, and Will hit the 'air recycle' button on the dash,

  “Fishmeal. The port was built largely on the export of granite and china clay, but now it mostly imports stuff. Like fishmeal.”

  The car swung sharply to the right and they climbed to a junction.

  “Saltymouth.” Will announced that they had arrived in the town where he spent most of his teenage years. “Home of a famous rock band.”

  Alice was intrigued. “Which one?”

  Will told her, and she was impressed.

  “I went to school with them. Of course, I was a few years ahead of them.”

  “How many?”

  “About twenty.”

  Alice peered past the stone pillared entrance of the old school, a driveway that melted into the shadows of huge gnarly, spooky old conifers. Will told her to look at the football field where he had scored the greatest goal in the school's history - a volley from inside the centre circle. Alice didn't know what a volley was, or a centre circle, but she thought the feat impressive if highly improbable. In fact it was one of the few anecdotes Will had not needed to embellish. It was a source of immense frustration to him that he had never been able to play more football, partly because he couldn't see very far without glasses, and partly because the school concentrated on academic studies. He didn't feel the need to burden Alice with those frustrations tonight.

  The Rover climbed further, steeper, past the old boarder's house, and as it levelled out Will swung right into a road lined with big trees and big houses. He slowed the car and his narrative, until they turned left onto a wide, well-lit road.

  “Soon be home.”

  Alice figured they hadn't gone in circles, and guessed he meant the place he was born.

  “Blackwater? So this is where you were born.”

  “Nope. Technically, I was born in Broadford, moved here after a few days.”

  Will proceeded in silent mode until he decided to point out a childhood home, just as they’d passed the entrance. He had no intention of letting her see it, and the Rover dove into a tree-lined hill. Will pointed out two more childhood homes, one halfway down and one at the bottom. The Rover slowed at the end of the hill and turned left into an island of multi-coloured lights and undulating, up-lit flower beds and palm trees. A stream had been channelled through the centre
and strings of lights hung over it, reflections dancing over the glass-like surface as the sea breezes funnelled into the town centre through sturdy granite arches and gentled rocked the beads of light. Miniature waterfalls gushed with frothy white water, creating constantly changing spectrums of light.

  Will drove round the island and Alice commented on the railway line and station that dominated the seafront. The colourful stream continued inland and Will followed it. Alice marvelled at the waterfowl lining the way - ducks and swans and geese, and the interloping sea birds. Taking a sharp right over a bridge, they continued to the far side of the park, along a main street with shops on only one side.

  “This is kinda cool.” Alice had not seen a town centre that had more parkland and wildlife than shops, and a beach you shared with trains.

  “Used to be nice.”

  “It still is.”

  “Nah, trust me. Inundated with grockles in summer and mischievous kids in winter.”

  Alice laughed loudly, unsure if the kids were somehow evil or Will was just a boring old fart.

  “You probably think I'm a boring old fart.”

  “Not at all.”

  The Rover swung left and right and sharp left up a narrow hill, with little variation in speed. Leaving the town behind, Will relaxed into anecdotal commentary, pointing at buildings that weren't there anymore. Alice was soon being educated in the horticultural industry that had introduced many exotic plants to the area, much of which washed over her as she couldn't tell a fuchsia from a freesia. She learned that perfume was produced here from hundreds of varieties of violets. She wasn't sure what a violet looked like, but she tried to imagine the scent of a small purple flower.

  As they passed a small harbour she learned that people liked to play sports in the mud. She saw a castle where deer roamed in pastures dotted with majestic trees. Her head was so full of facts she could barely remember why she was here, or even why she had wanted to become rich and famous, when there were so many other things to learn about. As they drove into Broadford the narrative ceased, as they passed industrial estates and village-sized superstores, and car showrooms representing every luxury car manufacturer she knew, as well as a few she didn't. This was a very different landscape, one many Americans might be more familiar with.

  Alice already missed the lanes and cottages, and she knew she'd forget the facts and return to a job she loved immensely and which loved her back, but she wouldn't forget the listening.