Something rustled. The afternoon became interesting.
A Small Rustle
The rabbit heard the knock through two layers of biscuit paper.
One ear turned toward the door. The other remained above the parcel, where he was working a knot loose with considerable care. The baker had tied it as though the biscuits might attempt to leave on their own.
“Come in,” he called.
The shrew appeared on the doorstep with an empty shopping basket. She had been there that morning to borrow it, and now she lifted it in greeting.
“Only me again.”
“Just in time.”
The knot gave way. He carried the parcel to the little table by the window, leaving the door open behind her. Beside the table stood the chair where she had sat that morning, a striped scarf still draped over its back.
Another Biscuit?
“I’ve come back for my—”
The outer paper crackled as the rabbit spread it wide. He caught the first few words and glanced up at her waiting beside the table.
“A biscuit? Certainly. There are currant ones.”
She shook her head.
“Actually, I left—”
He lifted the inner paper, looking for the other sort. It sprang into a stiff fold beside his cheek.
“Plain ones too,” he said. “I know not everybody likes currants.”
The shrew put her basket down. Instead of reaching toward the parcel, she pointed past him at the chair.
His paws stopped.
With the paper held still, he could hear her basket handle settle against its rim.
The Paper Goes Quiet
The rabbit lowered the wrapper onto the table and moved around it to stand beside her.
“I’m sorry. What did you come back for?”
“My scarf. I left it on your chair this morning.”
He looked at the stripes hanging down the chair back.
“Oh.”
He had pushed the chair in after she left. The fringe had brushed his paw, and he had tucked it neatly out of the way.
Now he drew the chair out and lifted the scarf free.
“This one?”
“That’s it.”
He held it while she set her basket on the seat, then passed it to her. She wound it around her neck and worked one end loose where it had folded under itself.
“I was halfway to the shops when I noticed,” she said.
“Was it cold?”
“No. I reached for the shopping list.”
She slipped a paw into a little pocket sewn near the end of the scarf and brought out a folded piece of paper.
The rabbit looked at it, then at his biscuits.
“I’m glad you didn’t let me finish unpacking.”
What She Came For
The shrew checked her list by the window. Thread, onions, a new brush. She folded it along its old crease and put it back in the pocket.
The rabbit waited until she had finished before asking, “Would you like a biscuit for the walk?”
“No, thank you. I’ve just had lunch.”
He nodded and left the parcel where it was.
At the door, she lifted the basket again. This time, the scarf was securely around her neck.
“Do have one yourself,” she said. “You’ve been trying to give them away since I arrived.”
He glanced back at the table.
“Currant or plain?”
“You’re choosing.”
After she had gone, he sat beside the open parcel and took a currant biscuit.
The plain ones had never really been in the running.
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