The Rabbit Girl

What is the secret of Mallie's picture?

The mystery unfolds as evacuees Tony and Alice escape the terrors of London's Blitz for the Lake District, where they befriend a fascinating and fearless old lady. Many years later, an after-school job in a pet shop enables well-meaning Mallie to buy her mum a drawing of a girl with a rabbit. Could this old picture bring past and present together - and change Mallie's life?

What is the mystery of the Rabbit Girl picture? Its secret is woven into two stories, one past, one present, told side by side. The first tells how 1940s evacuee Tony and his friend Alice befriend a fascinating old lady in the Lake District who introduces them to the countryside and draws Alice's portrait. In the second, teenage Mallie takes a part-time job in a pet shop, buys her artist mother a dusty old picture as a birthday present, and tries her best to engineer a romance between her new boss and her mother, aided by her feisty friend Jamila. Everything goes wrong... but the picture has a power of its own and pulls both stories together - in front of TV cameras - in a jaw-dropping climax.



Two stories, one set in the 1940s, one in the present, unravel the secret of the Rabbit Girl picture, and the mystery is solved in a jaw-dropping climax.

Mrs H knew every hill and wood for miles around and she could tell Tony and Alice stories about the Lake District. Once she pointed out a distant strip of land at the edge of Lake Windermere.

'I saved that bit of foreshore,' she said proudly.

'Saved it how?' asked Alice. 'How do you save something like that? What's there to save it from?'

'Developers,' replied Mrs H. 'They wanted to build there. Can you imagine it, churning up that lovely place to fill it with terraces of silly little houses?'

'I wouldn't mind,' said Alice. 'I'd love to have a house right there. Houses should be in pretty places, Mrs H.

Mrs H tut-tutted and shook her head.

'How did you save it?' put in Tony, before Alice could start an argument.

'Oh, I raised some money,' she said with a smile. 'I painted some pictures and sold them. They made enough money to save the stretch of land.'

'Cor,' said Alice. 'You a real artist then, Mrs H?'

Mrs H chuckled. 'Oh, I've been known to dabble a bit, dear. I don't have time for that sort of thing now. Farming is a busy life. Now, come along you two. Best turn back before the evening closes in.'

The walks always ended in the garden with tea and scones, or biscuits from America.

'You know, I don't actually live in this cottage,' she said to them one evening. 'I

used to live here, but now I live in another house not far from here.'

'But you're always here,' Mrs H,' said Alice. 'It's got rooms and furniture and

everything. We've always ended up here in the evenings, me and you.'

Mrs H laughed. 'Oh, I still own it. It's still my special place. I like to sit here in the evenings,' she said.

'That's mad,' said Alice with a laugh. 'Why would anyone want two houses?'

Mrs H simply smiled. 'It's this garden,' she said. 'Its peace shuts out wars and woes.'

However it was her love of animals that drew Tony to Mrs H. He found it easy to

tell her about his mother and the rabbits.

'It was a picture in her bedroom,' he said. 'A picture of rabbits in a field. There were hills behind them and some trees, a bit like here. I can still remember every detail in that picture. My mam used to tell me that we'd go there some day. I never forgot that. I suppose that's why I love rabbits.'

He glanced shyly at Mrs H and Alice to see if they'd laugh. But they didn't. Mrs H nodded.

'My brother and I used to catch rabbits and tame them,' she said. 'When he was sent away to school, I used to do that on my own. You're never lonely around animals.'

'That's true,' said Tony. 'Even tin ones,' he laughed. 'I'll show you my collection.'

'And did she take you to see the rabbits, your mother?' Alice asked Tony.

He shook his head. 'She died,' he said. 'When I was small.'

Alice snorted. 'Liar, liar, pants on fire,' she said. 'Your mum's a pretty lady who saw you off at the station. Her name is Doris, you told me so yourself.'

Tony flinched. He'd forgotten that he'd fibbed to Alice. 'She's my father's friend,' he said. 'And mine too. She's a bit like a mother, but not my real mother.'

'You could have said,' went on Alice, wagging her finger at him. 'I don't like liars.'

'It was too much trouble to try and explain,' muttered Tony.

Mrs H diverted their attention by opening a book she had brought out. 'This is about the countryside,' she said. 'You might find it interesting.'

As she opened it a sheet of paper fell to the floor. Alice picked it up.

'That's nice,' she said. 'A picture of mice.'

Mrs H laughed. 'That's one of my first drawings,' she said. 'I did that when I was eleven. I keep it here because it's special to me.'

Alice examined it more closely. 'You drew that?' she exclaimed. 'That's amazing.'

The old lady smiled. 'As I've said already, Alice, I'm just a sheep farmer who used to draw.'

'I wish I could draw like that,' went on Alice.

'Perhaps you could,' said Mrs H. 'You never know until you try.'

Alice shook her head. 'I don't have paper or pencil,' she said.

Mrs H laughed. 'I can provide,' she said. 'Before you leave I'll give you some drawing materials.'





***



'This way, Mallie,' said the woman, propelling her gently towards the table where man in a suit was sitting He smiled and indicated the chairs beside him. There were people around looking curiously at the next interviewees. As the two girls sat down, Jamila gave Mallie's hand an encouraging squeeze. The lights were on, the cameras were in action!



'Well, what have we here?' The man said, holding out his hand. Does he want to shake my hand or take the supermarket bag? What will I say? Is that camera rolling? Are those people looking at me? Is my wet hair plastered around my face?



Jamila nudged her. 'Go on, Mal,' she whispered. 'Show the man.' Mallie swallowed very hard and handed over the plastic supermarket bag. She watched as the man eased the picture from the bag. He peered at it, turned it over and read the label on the back.



'Mrs H's picture,' he read. Mallie nodded.



'No signature,' he went on.'



'No,' mumbled Mallie.



'Good though, isn't it?' said Jamila.



The man nodded. 'It's very good. Would you mind if I remove the frame?' he asked. 'It's a very amateur frame and sometimes frames like this conceal a signature.'



Mallie shrugged. 'I suppose,' she said. She'd come this far, so might as well go the whole hog. She tried not to look at the camera in case she'd lose her nerve completely. It's just a chat, she forced the thought. I'm just having a chat with this man. No worries.



Very gently the man unwrapped the ancient passepartout that bound the picture to the glass. The margin that had been covered was white against the rest of the picture. He peered at the drawing. Then he held it away from him to see it from a different angle.



'Ah,' he said. 'Just as I thought. A signature. Oh, my goodness,' he added. 'What have we here?' He peered even closer. Then he looked up at Mallie. 'Have you any idea? I mean do you know anything about this picture? This is …' He was shaking his head and smiling.



The people behind leaned closer to see what he was holding.