The majordomo broke in at that moment and shuffled the queen and Prince Philip off while a team of security guards, all dressed in summer suits to blend in, took Mrs. Bunny away for questioning. What could Madeline, Katherine and Mr. Bunny do but hop after them? Mrs. Treaclebunny headed for the tea cakes. “After all, I tried to warn her,” she told herself, even though she had not. “And those jam cakes look like they’re going fast.”
Mrs. Bunny found herself in a room in Buckingham Palace with a bunch of mean-looking burly men glaring at her.
“It must have a hidden microphone in it,” said one of the security men.
“Maybe it’s a bomb cleverly disguised as a talking rabbit,” said another.
Oh dear, she thought. Does this presage dogs or the soup kettle? Or laboratory experiments? When mean humans got ahold of you it could come to any number of bad ends. But just as she was about to faint, the door opened and in came Prince Charles and Mr. Bunny.
“You can leave her to me,” said Prince Charles. The security guys left immediately but they looked very disappointed.
“I am so sorry. What a frightful thing to have happen,” said Prince Charles. “I’ve sent the girls off for their tea cakes. The jam ones tend to go fast. Now, what can I do to make up for this dreadful misunderstanding?”
“Make me queen?” asked Mrs. Bunny in a small voice.
Prince Charles thought for a second. “I can’t do that, I’m afraid. There is one already, you see.”
“Maybe there could be two?” asked Mrs. Bunny.
“Mrs. Bunny—” said Mr. Bunny in warning tones.
“No, no,” said Prince Charles to Mr. Bunny. “She has a right to ask for splendid compensation. It must have been frightful to be dragged in here like that. Now there can’t be two queens, kind of defeats the point of a monarchy and out of my jurisdiction completely, but I could knight you. Both of you. You could be Dame and Sir Bunny.”
Mrs. Bunny thought for a second. “What about king?”
“For him?” asked Prince Charles, pointing to Mr. Bunny.
“No, for me,” said Mrs. Bunny. “I mean, instead of queen.”
“I’m afraid it’s Dame and Sir or nothing,” said Prince Charles apologetically.
“We’ll take it,” said Mr. Bunny, throwing Mrs. Bunny a look.
So Prince Charles picked up a letter opener from a nearby desk. “We usually use a sword, but I’m afraid your size, the weight and all—”
“Yes, yes, just get it over with. I like jam cakes too,” said Mr. Bunny.
“Ixnay on the onetay,” said Mrs. Bunny to Mr. Bunny. Didn’t he know he was talking to a prince?
“By the power invested in me, I hereby pronounce you Sir and Dame Bunny,” said Prince Charles.
“Is that really what you say? Isn’t that what they use at wedding ceremonies?” asked Mrs. Bunny.
“Oh well, you know, specific words not so important, it’s the intention. Now, how about a cup of tea and a jam cake? And I believe I’ll go have a spot of gin.”
“Yes, you do that,” said Mr. Bunny. “Don’t blame you a bit. It’s what people often find they want after an encounter with Mrs. Bunny.”
“Dame Bunny,” hissed Mrs. Bunny. “Thank you—” she began, when she was interrupted by the majordomo, who had just come in.
“Sir,” he said to Prince Charles, “might I escort you back to meet the foremost expert on ancient coins in Britain? Had to bring him in an armored vehicle. He won’t leave the tent either. Seems he’s afraid of squirrels.”
The majordomo didn’t notice the Bunnys, but Prince Charles bowed goodbye to them and tottered off to meet his other guests.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny hopped back toward the tea tent.
“He bowed to us, Mr. Bunny.”
“Hmm,” said Mr. Bunny.
“And Mrs. Treaclebunny isn’t anything. But I’m a dame,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“Try to control yourself,” said Mr. Bunny. “And please don’t charge up to her and immediately start gloating or we won’t be able to leave here until she’s been made a dame and had the prince bow to her. All this royal muckety-muck has been fun, but now I’ve had enough.”
Mrs. Bunny was busy wondering if being bowed to by a royal would have almost as much cachet among her hat clubbers as being made a royal. She decided it would. She hadn’t heard anything Mr. Bunny had said, but she caught his tone.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining. You get to be Sir Bunny.”
“You can use your title if you like, but I told you before, I am Mr. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny. “For so I am called. It’s not the title that makes the bunny, it’s the … oooooo, jam cakes!”
And Mr. Bunny hopped off like the wind and scooped up the last six. He clutched them in his greedy little paws. In the end he gave half to Mrs. Bunny. But it wasn’t exactly his idea.
The cruise home was mostly uneventful. Mr. Bunny got a first-class cabin for himself and Mrs. Bunny. Mrs. Bunny told Mrs. Treaclebunny that she would not answer unless addressed as Dame Bunny, so it was a very quiet journey home. This did not exactly break Mr. Bunny’s heart.
Everyone was tired out from their adventures. Flo found a very good hiding place for the money they had made, and Mildred, now that she was aware what had happened to her shipboard, stayed in her cabin as much as possible in the lotus position, repeating to herself the mantra “I am not a fashionista. I am not a fashionista.”
Mildred took all her meals in. For this reason she did not see the anomaly that intrigued Madeline and Katherine. Among all the finely dressed people at dinner was one family who sat alone every night at a table in the corner. They wore ragged clothes and looked tired and wary, their eyes darting one way, then the next. The girls could not imagine who they were.
One night while waltzing after dinner, the girls bumped into their old nemesis, Percy.
Madeline flinched and both girls prepared to run, as they felt he might justifiably hold them responsible for his involuntary stay in the infirmary. But before they could escape he said, “Now, now, all is forgiven and forgotten. Favor you did me, actually. Had to have sessions with the ship psychiatrist because they thought I was crazy. Wasn’t crazy but had issues. You wouldn’t believe how many.”
“Yes, I would,” said Madeline before she could stop herself.
“Fascinating thing, looking inward. Now that’s all I do. No outward looking for me. Can I interest you girls in some insights?”
“Um,” said Katherine.
“Actually,” said Madeline, “we were just wondering who that family is over there. They’re not in evening dress.”
“Oh yes. Well, kind of bad luck they’ve had. They were supposed to immigrate but found out when they got to port that they didn’t have enough money. No money, no relations, no job prospects. So they got turned down. And they can’t go back where they came from. The captain is letting them live shipboard.”
“You mean they just sail back and forth across the Atlantic?”
“Excellent man, our captain. Course, we all have issues,” said Percy, and went off to do a little more soul searching and some light dusting.
Later when Madeline and Katherine went in to see Flo and Mildred and say good night, they told the story of the ragged family.
“Wow, heavy,” said Flo. “Like, sad, Mildred, huh?”
“I am not a fashionista. I am not a fashionista,” chanted Mildred.
“Wow. That’s, like, so totally true,” said Flo.
At last port was reached. It was September by now and the air had the tang of new beginnings. Mildred couldn’t wait to get back and start clearing her new thirty acres and plotting out what kind of vegetables she would grow. Madeline and Katherine were excited about school.
“We’d better be in the same class!” said Madeline.
“No one would be so cruel as to keep us apart,” agreed Katherine.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny hugged the girls goodbye.
“And you can spend every weekend
with us!” said Mr. Bunny.
“Mr. Bunny—” said Mrs. Bunny.
“And Thanksgiving. And Christmas!” said Mr. Bunny.
“We will see you as much as we can!” said Madeline.
“I’m going to try to learn Rabbit this winter!” said Katherine.
“That’s lovely, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny. “And I’ve got some knitting needles and patterns for both of you. In no time at all you’ll find yourselves with enough floss to begin.”
“Gee, thanks …,” said Madeline.
“And if you ask your friends to save their used dental floss for you, it will really speed up the process.”
“Uh-huh,” said Katherine.
“And if you get stuck on a pattern you can always come and visit and I’ll help unstick you,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“Or stuck on anything at all. We’re always here. We’ll always help. In fact, why bother going home at all …,” began Mr. Bunny.
Mrs. Bunny could see he was one hop away from trying to stuff the girls into the Smart car so she said, “Mr. Bunny, Mrs. Treaclebunny said she was taking a taxi but I think she’s changed her mind. She seems to be hopping in this direction.”
“Gotta go!” said Mr. Bunny. He gunned the engine and they were off, Mrs. Bunny wildly waving her dental floss hankie with one paw, the other pressed firmly over her eyes.
Madeline and Katherine ran to the taxi stand, where Mildred was already waiting in a cab. They all looked for Flo. He was back at the gangplank and appeared to be saying goodbye to the ragged family. They were bowing to him and he was bowing back. Back and forth and back and forth until Mildred shouted, “Hurry up, Flo!” He turned, spied them and ran to the taxi and off they headed for home.
First they dropped off Katherine in Comox. She and Madeline hugged goodbye among a volley of various kinds of balls and then Flo and Mildred and Madeline sped away to the ferry.
It was dinnertime when they finally reached Hornby. KatyD, who was one of the few people on the island with a car, came to pick them up and take them home. “Now, I gotta warn you, your place is … um, somewhat altered.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mildred.
“Well, the campers kind of, um …” She didn’t have to finish her sentence, for they had pulled into the driveway and Madeline and her parents saw for themselves. All Mildred’s carefully tended land was in ruins. There was litter everyness, where and small trees down. There were holes in the ground where people had dug campfire pits, and charred logs lay scattered everywhere.
“Oh dear,” said Mildred.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess the campers were a little careless.”
“Oh well,” said Mildred in a small voice. “I suppose it will be a lot of work to bring it back, but I’ve got the thirty acres next door to work with too.”
“Afraid not,” said KatyD, clearing her throat. “I’m sure Zanky’ll tell you herself when she sees you, but she’s not selling. After she saw what the campers did to your place she started a whole new campaign to keep Hornby wild and untouched. She’s trying to get a collective going to buy up more of Hornby for the land conservancy.”
“But I was just going to grow veggies. Bring veggies to the people …” Mildred’s voice trailed off.
“That was how we were going to make my college education money,” said Madeline.
KatyD shrugged. “You know Zanky once she gets a bee in her bonnet. Well, welcome home. Your waitressing job is still available anytime you like, Madeline. There’s still that.”
Flo and Mildred and Madeline watched KatyD drive off and then they collapsed in exhaustion on the front porch. The stars were coming out one by one, twinkling through the screen.
“It’s good to be home,” said Mildred. “It’s hard to believe that I ever went into a shopping frenzy or dyed my hair blond.”
“Or wanted me to go to Harvard just to be better than Ermintrude and Alfred,” said Madeline.
“We must never leave the island,” said Mildred. “That’s what I realize now. I can only be Island Mildred here on Hornby. It is here I am my true self and walk in light and clarity.”
“It’s the vibe,” agreed Flo.
“It’s the goodness in the very soil,” said Mildred, looking at her devastated garden again and sighing. “Well, anyhow, Zanky isn’t the only one with thirty acres for sale. I’m sure we could buy a bit more land from someone else with our thirty thousand.”
“If we had it,” said Flo.
“Yes, if we … What?” said Mildred, sitting up. “What do you mean, IF?”
“I mean, man, that poor family had, like, nothing. Sailing back and forth.”
“What poor family? You don’t mean that immigrant family on the ship?” asked Mildred. “Was that what all that bowing was about when we were leaving? Were you giving them our money?”
“They were really grateful,” said Flo. “But I said, man, it wasn’t me. It was the universe. Go with the flow.”
“How much did you give them?” asked Mildred.
“All of it, man.”
“You gave them ALL our money?” said Mildred. “Without even asking us? The money that we needed for my garden? So we could bring veggies to the people and Madeline could go to college? What about the universe? Synchronicity? The confluence? Everything lining up for the one ultimate good?”
“Hey, man, don’t you get it, that was the one ultimate good,” said Flo. “Anyhow, anyone want a pistachio?” He opened his duffel and pulled out a bag.
Madeline and Mildred shook their heads.
“I, like, talked to that dad,” said Flo in quieter tones between pistachios. “They had no home, no future, no way out. Those peops were scared. They got up every morning scared. They went to bed every night scared. You forget, like, how many people are just living in fear, man, living in fear.”
Everyone sat in silence. After a while Madeline and Mildred accepted a few pistachios. They were hungry and that was all they had on hand for dinner. Normally in September they would have gone down to the garden and harvested something, but it would be a long time before they could do this again.
“Do we have anything left?” asked Madeline. “After you paid the cabdriver?”
“Let me see,” said Flo, digging in his pockets and counting it up. “We’ve got six dollars and twenty-seven cents.”
“Oh great,” said Mildred. “That’s exactly what we had before we started.”
“What did I tell you, man,” said Flo, happily cracking open another pistachio. “Synchronicity!”
The first day of school Mildred began cleaning up the land and preparing it for next year’s garden. Flo began by making a shrine.
“What’s that?” asked Madeline as she put on her old Salvation Army shoes and started down the driftwood-lined walkway to the ferry.
“The mystical Pop-Tart box that began it all,” said Flo reverently as he placed the box in the center of the shrine. Madeline was about to tell him there was nothing at all mystical about the Pop-Tarts’ arrival but she didn’t have time to argue, she had to run to catch the ferry.
As she got to school Katherine pounced upon her with tales of her own homecoming. Her brothers were all joining lacrosse this year.
“Do you know how much those balls hurt?” she asked indignantly. “Oh! And listen to this. My mother wrote Uncle Kevin to tell him not to send any more Pop-Tarts and guess what? He never sent them! And my mother never found out where they came from.”
“It’s a mystery,” said Madeline. “Or maybe, like the candy, it’s magical.”
“Mr. Bunny would say that’s magical thinking,” said Katherine.
“Pshaw, he’d say,” agreed Madeline.
“Maybe Flo was right about ‘the mystical appearance of the Pop-Tarts’!” said Katherine.
“Uncle Runyon would say no one really knows how but it’s all connected like the root system of aspen trees.”
“And then someone would give him a grant to study it,” said Katherine.
“Do you think we’ll ever find out?” asked Madeline. “About the Pop-Tarts? About anything, really?”
“Maybe,” said Katherine.
“Or maybe not,” said Madeline.
“But maybe—” began Katherine.
She did not get a chance to finish her thought, for the first bell of the new school year rang, and this, with its promise of new beginnings, new teachers, fresh textbooks and always the chance of the unexpected, the unpredictable, the many things unknown and out of their control still to come, seemed rather magical to Madeline and Katherine too. They ran inside.
It was busy for the Bunnys when they got back. There was all that unpacking and laundry and sorting through the garden, which had grown like crazy. It wasn’t even until several days had passed that Mrs. Treaclebunny came over to borrow something.
This time it was drill bits and farfel that Mrs. Bunny supplied. Mrs. Treaclebunny was hanging around with a handful of each at the front door. Mrs. Bunny was cleaning cupboards and not at all up to idle chitchat.
“So,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “Tomorrow is the hat club meeting. Thought I’d tag along. Just heard about it. There was a notice on the bulletin board at the A&P.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Bunny. She had an uneasy presentiment. She did not have presentiments often and she did not like it when she did.
“I’ll be by at ten o’clock on my scooter to pick you up. We can go together.”
“Uh-oh,” said Mrs. Bunny to herself, and then she went back to her cupboards.
She had been looking forward to the hat club meeting. At what point should she announce that from now on she must be addressed as Dame Bunny? She had spent many mornings boring Mr. Bunny with this question. Later that afternoon she brought it up once again.
Lord and Lady Bunny—Almost Royalty! Page 17
