“Hello?” says Bea just as McGregor is hammering in a stake. She’s changed into a sun dress.
McGregor drops his hammer.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Bea,” she says, giving McGregor her best smile. “I live right over there.” Bea points to her cottage, so McGregor can see exactly how close she lives.
“Thomas,” says McGregor, and points far, far away. “I live way over there. London. I’m just here temporarily. Fixing up this place to sell. I’m going to use the money to open my own toy store. Preferably near Harrods so they can witness their own downfall.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m just . . . a little out of my element,” explains McGregor.
“Well, I think you’ll find this element is pretty fabulous. For my money, it’s the most beautiful place on Earth,” says Bea, looking out across the countryside, lost in her thoughts.
“It just got a lot more beautiful,” he says, staring at Bea.
“You didn’t just say that. No, you didn’t just say that!” She bursts out laughing.
“What? No. Look how perfect that is. Clean, straight, functional,” says McGregor, pointing behind Bea to the perfectly fixed gate.
“Oh. Right. The gate,” says Bea. “I thought you were saying I was . . .”
“You’re beautiful, too. Just not the subject I was on,” says McGregor.
“I’ll take it,” says Bea.
“No, I didn’t mean—Well, I did mean. Not that I’m—I would never—” McGregor tries, and fails, to get out the right words.
“No, of course you’d think a gate was more beautiful than me. I mean, look at it. Look what it can do,” says Bea as she swings the gate open, and then swings it closed. “In, out, in, out. What beauty—”
They talk over each other for a minute.
And then: “Thomas,” says McGregor, introducing himself, starting over.
“Bea,” replies Bea.
The rabbits look on as McGregor and Bea smile at each other.
“That’s a lot of smiling,” says Flopsy, just as Johnny Town-mouse drops in from the tree above.
“Coming through. Coming through. ’Sup, bunnies. Missed you at the after-party last night. It was wicked.” Johnny pauses for a millisecond. “I kissed a duck. Did I say that out loud? I hope I did, ’cause I wanted you to know it. I kissed a duck.”
Johnny looks very pleased with himself. The bunnies all stare at him. He stares back.
“Tragic it’s all over,” Johnny continues, looking at Peter. “You were about to be legendary, son! You keep this going and the whole kingdom’d be chanting your name,” he says, pointing at the garden and all its vegetables. With this new McGregor, there won’t be any more animal parties anytime soon.
“What’s your name, anyway?” asks Johnny Town-mouse.
“Peter Rabbit.”
“Really? Just a regular name and then just what you are? All right. Whatever. In any case, it’s through with, and you’re just a regular rabbit again,” says Johnny.
Johnny heads off as the bunnies turn their attention back to the garden. Bea is tugging on one of the gates. It looks like she is checking its sturdiness.
“These gates are awfully sturdy. Expecting an alien invasion?” Bea asks as she continues to tug on one of the gates.
“Need to keep the wildlife out where they belong,” says McGregor, looking around.
“They actually belong everywhere. It was really their place first. You’re familiar with science, yes? We’re the latecomers,” explains Bea.
“Are you from here?” asks McGregor. Only country folk talk like that.
“No. But I’ve been here almost a year and I already feel like it’s home,” says Bea.
“If I may, what is it you do out here?” McGregor asks.
“I’m a painter. Portraits mostly. It’s going great. Some modern, also surrealism, abstract every now and then. It’s going great. It’s why I came out here, to really focus on my craft, clear my head, really tap into my creativity. It’s going great,” says Bea. She’s unsure if she is trying to convince Thomas or herself.
“Sounds like it’s going great,” says McGregor.
“It really is,” says Bea.
“I’d love to see them sometime.”
“Yeah.” Bea pauses for a moment. “I was on my way to getting my master’s in fine art, but decided why hide behind a lecture stand when I should try to see if I can do it myself? Not that teaching isn’t an honorable profession.” Bea pauses again to take a breath. “Anyway, I’d always wanted to see if I had it in me to be one of those artists in my textbooks. I saved up all my money and here I am.”
Bea blushes. She has definitely said way too much.
The rabbits, meanwhile, have crept closer to get a better look.
“That’s a lot of words,” says Flopsy.
“Probably telling him to take down the fence and give us back our land,” nods Benjamin.
“And if he doesn’t, he’ll have to deal with Peter,” says Mopsy.
“Who thinks nothing of killing a McGregor,” adds Cotton-tail.
They watch Bea as she reaches into her bag. Benjamin cranes his head to see what she will pull out. It’s a wrapped gift with a bow made of flowers.
“A beautifully wrapped present,” says Flopsy.
“That bow is so pretty,” says Mopsy at the same time as Flopsy says, “It’s made of chrysanthemums!”
“I brought you a housewarming gift,” says Bea as she hands McGregor the gift. “For bird watching.”
McGregor carefully peels off the beautiful wrapping paper. Inside is a pair of binoculars and a notebook.
“I’m not really a bird person. Flying all over. I prefer things in their place.”
“They’re in their place. The sky. That’s their place,” says Bea.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to,” says McGregor.
“I know. Especially since now I know you’re leaving straightaway,” says Bea, trying to keep her disappointment at bay.
“The quicker I sell, the quicker I can get back to real life.”
“This seems pretty real to me,” says Bea, poking herself to make her point.
McGregor looks through the binoculars. When he scans past the rabbits, they dive down, hoping not to be caught.
“I don’t see any birds,” McGregor says.
“It’s not a kaleidoscope. You have to spot one first,” explains Bea. “There. A robin redbreast.”
McGregor looks through the binoculars until he finds it.
“Yes! I see it. It has wings!”
“Birds tend to have those,” Bea says. “It’s their defining characteristic. And you spotted your first one. Mark it down.”
“There’s a way of documenting and organizing the chaos of the sky?” says McGregor, still looking through the binoculars, delighted with his gift. As he continues to scan for birds, he passes over the rabbits again. And once more, they dive out of sight.
“See? Real life happens everywhere. It was nice meeting you,” says Bea.
“Yes, you too,” says McGregor.
Bea opens the gate.
“Let’s leave this open, huh? For the wildlife.” She smiles and heads off.
As she leaves, McGregor walks out of the garden with his binoculars trained to the sky. Lost in the natural world. Until his binoculars find Bea and he watches her walk away. He’s smitten. McGregor starts to think that spending time in the country might not be such a bad thing after all.
Then, something pops up. A brown blur. It’s a rabbit. It’s five rabbits. McGregor watches as they race toward the other end of the garden. He tries to keep up with them using his binoculars, but they are too fast.
Chapter Seven
TRAPPED IN A TRUCK
The rabbits race toward the McGregor garden.
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sp; “She did it!” says Mopsy.
“We got it back again!” says Cotton-tail.
“She always comes through for us. I knew she would,” says Peter. The bunnies dart past McGregor, who is still looking through his binoculars, and head for the open gate. But just before they get there, McGregor drops the binoculars and hammers the date closed. He then adds chicken wire at the bottom for good measure. The rabbits screech to a sudden halt, stunned. McGregor takes one last look at his newly secured garden and heads into the house.
“I guess she didn’t get her point across,” says Benjamin, sadly. The triplets hang their heads. There is no way they will be able to get into the garden now.
But Peter has other ideas. That mischievous twinkle is back.
“That garden is ours. Nothing has changed. I’m going in,” he says with a lot of confidence.
“Right behind you,” says Cotton-tail.
Peter puts his paws out and stops her.
“No.”
“But he’s blocked all our lookouts. And look at him,” Cotton-tail says. She points toward McGregor, who is aggressively hoeing something in the garden. Peter pauses, unsure of himself.
“I’ll go with you!” says Benjamin, a little too loudly. “Because you’re my cousin, and I’m brave.” Benjamin puffs his chest out to make his point.
Relief washes over Peter’s face. The new McGregor is tough and Peter could use all the help he can get. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
Benjamin and Peter head off.
“Why does he get to go into the garden?” says Cotton-tail. She is always left in the safety of the sidelines.
Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail watch as Peter and Benjamin creep toward McGregor’s garden. They shimmy their way up a gutter, across a power line, and down some plants until they find their way in. McGregor misses it all. He knows something is going on but he can’t quite spot it.
Before long, the two rabbits find themselves in front of a row of the juiciest carrots they have ever seen. Sneaking into the garden is always worth it. They are about to take a bite when they are stopped in their tracks.
THWACK!
It is Thomas McGregor. He swings his rake and they take off running. McGregor is just as quick and is soon hot on their paws. Two rabbits and one human race through the garden as if it is an obstacle course. Up and over, around and through, they take care to avoid the barbed wire as they slide and leap and crawl and tumble.
Mopsy is watching the whole thing unfold from the top of the shed. But only because she is standing on Cotton-tail, who is standing on poor Flopsy, who grimaces in pain, at the bottom again.
McGregor is nearly on top of Peter and Benjamin when they turn to sprint down a row of vegetables. The labels on some tomato plants are blown out of place. McGregor stops, his chest heaving. He cannot help himself. He tries to ignore it but he cannot. He dashes back to the labels and begins straightening them.
Peter looks over his shoulder and notices McGregor tidying the labels. Finally satisfied, Thomas leaps back to his feet.
Seeing McGregor tidy the plants gives Peter an idea. As he runs, Peter knocks down a row of shovels. Sure enough, McGregor stops to pick them up. It works, and gives them a bit of extra time. The rabbits take off on a stampede of destruction. They knock down a sunflower, and then another.
“No!” shouts McGregor. “I’m going to put those in the brochure! People love sunflowers.”
Thomas is about to grab the rabbits . . . but they slide under the door of the garden shed. Inside, it is pitch black. But only for a moment before the door busts open. McGregor has caught up with them.
“Do you know what we do with rats in the city?” McGregor says as he catches his breath. “We exterminate them.”
Peter and Benjamin squish closer together under a plant pot. They are nose-to-nose. Just then, McGregor grabs their pot and lifts it up. Peter jumps out but Benjamin holds on to the inside for dear life. McGregor puts down the pot and starts after Peter. Suddenly, he sees the pot has sprouted feet and is shuffling out of the door.
Benjamin, in the pot, scurries through the garden, heading for an opening into the flower garden. He is about to go through when THWACK!
McGregor hurls his rake like a javelin and slams the gate closed. Benjamin smashes into it, bits of the pot flying everywhere. McGregor has him cornered.
The triplets are now watching from the roof.
“You rats are everywhere!” cries McGregor as he slowly walks toward Benjamin.
McGregor slams a trowel into the fence, pinning Benjamin by his jacket.
“That’s the end of you, rah-bbit!” says McGregor, sounding very much like his great-uncle. But unlike his great-uncle, this younger version does not collapse and die. Instead, he marches from the garden, still holding Benjamin.
Peter is crushed! Benjamin’s brown jacket is still pinned to the gate. Peter grabs it and puts it on top of his own. He needs to get his cousin back.
McGregor walks toward his house, as Peter joins his sisters.
“He’s gonna put him in a pie!” cries Flopsy.
But McGregor doesn’t go into the house. He goes to the back of his truck, gets a sack, and shoves Benjamin into it. He ties the sack and tosses it, with Benjamin inside, on the passenger seat next to his binoculars.
The rabbits sprint toward the truck, clambering onto the back as it drives off.
Chapter Eight
TROUBLE IN TOWN
Peter is starting to realize that this new, young McGregor is a very big problem. Not only has he taken away the rabbits’ garden, he now also has Benjamin in a sack in his truck.
From their hiding place at the back of the truck, Peter and his sisters do everything they can to try to grab Benjamin through the open window but nothing seems to work. Eventually, Peter climbs over the roof, onto the hood, and opens it. It flies up, blocking McGregor’s vision, and distracting him just long enough for Flopsy and Mospy to grab Benjamin out the side window. McGregor slams on the brakes and the hood shuts. He angrily drives off again.
At last, McGregor comes to a stop at a bridge overlooking a stream. He gets out and heads to the side, the brown sack hanging limply in his hand. Can he really do it? Can he really get rid of the rabbit?
McGregor stares at the sack. It’s not moving. He pokes at it. He listens but he only hears silence. Oh no. Is it dead already? He didn’t really want that to happen, did he? McGregor slowly unties the bag, looks inside and takes out . . . the binoculars that Bea gave him. The rabbits made the switch somehow! Furious, he swings the bag in the air. It flies out of his hand and into the water below.
Back at the truck, Peter and the triplets help Benjamin out of his bag. They look over to McGregor, who lets out a yell that can be heard throughout the land as he heads down to the river.
“Are you OK, big guy? Close one, huh?” says Peter as he helps Benjamin into his jacket.
“I could’ve been pie’d,” says Benjamin. He has been pretty shaken by the whole episode.
“But you weren’t. And what an adventure we had!” says Peter, trying to make Benjamin feel better.
“Your jacket’s ripped. I’ll make you a new one. I have just the fabric,” offers Mopsy.
“I told you not to go in there,” says Benjamin.
“Let’s call it water under the bridge. Oh, sorry. Bad choice of words,” says Peter, feeling a little uncomfortable.
Peter looks away from his cousin and sees McGregor squelch back on to the bridge. He is soaked from head to toe, but at least he has the binoculars—saved from the stream. The rabbits dart out of his view, and out of his reach, but McGregor just heads to the driver’s seat.
“Look at him. Almost feel bad for the guy. Almost,” says Peter as McGregor drives off.
“Turn here. Yup, here’s good,” says Peter, acting like a backseat driver.
Luckily, McGregor can’t hear him. “New to the area, probably taking the next turn. Just using more fuel. Here we go. And . . . turn.”
But McGregor doesn’t turn.
“Whoa, this guy has no sense of direction. There’s a nice place to turn this beast around. Now or never,” says Peter, willing the truck to turn.
“Where is he taking us?” says Flopsy.
The truck barrels down the road. Flopsy isn’t the only one who is worried. None of them know where McGregor is taking them.
The truck trundles down the main street of town. The rabbits look around, still unsure of their location. They’ve never seen a town before.
“Is this London? Where’s the building that tells the time?” asks Flopsy. The bunnies look at a small digital clock in a storefront as the truck drives past.
“Wow! It’s so big,” Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail say all at the same time.
“And there’s the Queen! Everyone curtsy,” says Cotton-tail, catching sight of a Royal Mail box with a crown symbol.
Finally, McGregor pulls into a parking space and the rabbits peek out. They find themselves outside a hardware store.
“What can I do for you?” says a store clerk. He’s wearing a name tag with the name “Chris” on it.
“I have a vermin problem,” says McGregor. He is not messing around anymore.
“Rabbits, I’m guessing,” says Chris.
“How’d you know?” asks McGregor.
“You’re the new McGregor. Bea’s neighbor,” says Phil, another clerk who comes over to see what all the fuss is about.
“How’d you know?” asks McGregor, still not used to country folk and the way they seem to know everything about everyone.
“You fit the description,” says Phil.
“Of what?” says Thomas, indignantly.
“Someone who wants to sell his house in a hurry and use the profits to open his own toy store?” says Phil.
“That’s incredibly specifically accurate,” says a disbelieving McGregor.
“Just make sure she doesn’t find out you’re launching those rabbits,” warns Phil. “She loves them like family.”
Peter Rabbit, Based on the Movie Page 4
