Invasion of the Vox Lagomorpha

2. Coffee Interruptus-4

It was Saturday morning and Colin’s alarm went off at eight-thirty. This was unusual, but he didn’t want to be late for the coffee date that had been arranged with Bernadine ‘The Voice’ Bynum, at 11:00 a.m.

Rising, Colin set about lovingly preparing a perfect coffee; manually grinding premium brand organic coffee beans, using a French press with water heated to the optimum temperature. He looked haggard – only two days without the structure of work and he was right back to college-level sleep routine. He had stayed up until three in the morning on both evenings watching truly terrible movies.

Chomping, bleary-eyed, on some cereal in the farmhouse-style kitchen, Colin considered the date to come and his chewing slowed down.

Was it smart to do this?

She could look like an elephant’s backside.

She could be a very dishonest fifty year old with four kids...

Nah, they had talked for two hours on the phone the other evening. She was great. He couldn’t wait. She was lovely too...so far as he could tell. A nice person. But what, then, if he hated the sight of her while she liked him? – that could be awkward.

A get-out clause. That’s what he needed. Or backup. Someone to call him on the phone... Oh, wait, no, that wasn’t possible at the moment. Think pre-digital. He’d just have to arrive late, and have a sneaky look through the window of the café first, and if she was there...no, he wouldn’t be able to recognise her to tell if she had arrived... Ah, well, at least she’d be interesting to talk to. He was not exactly doing well on the social front lately. Getting older, getting set in his ways... He was only twenty-seven, but working from home really limited your daily options and he wasn’t the nightclub type.

Maybe he could persuade Jim to drop by at the café, with a bogus request for his help, about half an hour after they met should do it, then, if he wanted to escape, he could apologise and leave... Then again, good luck finding the man these days. Since Thursday morning he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his flatmate. He had returned to the observatory and had, as far as Colin could tell, not been back since.

Pumped up on pre-caffeine caffeine, dressed in clean jeans and second-cleanest but most flattering t-shirt, Colin checked Jim’s door was firmly shut, gave Herman half a carrot, and strode from the flat. He pulled on his jacket, went down the stairs and whistled his way out of the grandiose stone house-conversion, through the front garden, and on into town.

He was really looking forward to this. He was being daring, no holds barred. He had seen, or rather heard, something he liked, and he was going for it!

Chapel Topping was not a large town, nor was it particularly beautiful. But almost all of it was hewn from the local stone and it nestled like a true belligerent native into a slight ridge in the undulating moorland landscape. Bernie, it had turned out, by miraculous coincidence of the type usually reserved for chick-flicks and nineteenth century novels, lived in Chapel Topping too. So here they were, about to meet in their shared, windblown High Street.

As Colin approached the café, somewhat late as he now realised, there were two young women outside it peering in through the plate-glass window. He slowed down, not wanting to look panicked when appearing at the café door, stopped a moment to smooth his always too voluble hair and check his breath for any hint of rotting dragon.

‘...can’t see a thing. It’s too dark,’ mumbled the pretty, tall girl.

‘No,’ said the short one with the aquamarine headscarf, ‘me neither. But Dad said he’s OK. Good money.’

‘Really? You didn’t say? How does he know?’ whispered the tall one, still bent almost double trying to find a good line of sight into the café.

‘The taxi, of course. All his taxi friends. He always has something to say on every boy.’ There followed an enormous, heartfelt sigh.

‘Oh, let’s go in, it’s freezing!’ hissed the taller girl, stamping her feet slightly.

As Colin arrived at the door they turned their attention from the window and almost bumped into him.

‘Ladies,’ said Colin stepping back gallantly and opening the door which tinkled charmingly.

All three entered the dimness of the cinnamon-scented, bohemian-style interior, and spent a moment looking about them. Then, catching each others eye, they lowered themselves into adjacent sets of tables for two, with self-conscious smiles.

A minute of silent and subtle prairie-dogging ensued on both tables.

‘Do you think that’s him?’ whispered Rupi, pointing further into the room to an older, bald man reading a newspaper.

‘Heavens, I hope not!’ said Bernie passionately in reply. She looked up, and the young man they had entered with caught her eye again.

There was a moment of doubtful suspicion from both parties, followed by nervous smiles, ending with tiny grins.

‘Bernie?’ he said.

‘Colin?’ she said.

‘Oh!’ said Rupi.

In a flurry of happy, pink-faced confusion, official introductions took place. Preferred beverages were ordered, and an agreement was made to redeploy – with relief and jollity – to the top floor of the café. Here they took possession of three saggy armchairs around a small cable-drum table, and gloried in breathtaking views out over the heather-covered moors.

Steamy smiles emanated from behind polka-dot cups and things were off to a great start, in Rupi’s estimation at least. In her experience Bernie could complicate and confuse anything social if given half the chance, so her abiding determination was to act as a guiding tug-boat wherever possible, whenever possible. If necessary.

Colin was decidedly attractive, with hazel eyes and deep brown wavy hair. He had a beard to match, and a slightly crooked smile. For a girl who romanced her evenings away watching Bollywood movies, he was a bit too vanilla in masculine aura for Rupi’s tastes, but he appeared to be custom-made for Bernie and, fortunately, Bernie seemed to have the good sense to be recognising this.

‘So, how did you get into house rabbits anyway,’ asked Colin, appearing from behind his mug, unaware of a mocha-froth moustache now double-decking on his own wiry one.

Bernie suppressed a snort of laughter, muted it into a smile, and proceeded to answer while pretending to be very interested in her cup and thinking the whole time how adorable he was. ‘Oh, a college flat-mate got one and then disappeared on a six month thesis trip. Friends of hers took over her room and immediately kicked the rabbit out into the kitchen. They’d organised a house-warming party for the following night and I felt sorry for her...so she ended up in my room. Pebble. Rabbit number one. After that the word got out and I ended up with another cast-off, Max: number two. Fortunately, he was neutered and the two of them bonded easily, because this was before I had my PhD in bunny-dating. I had no idea about all the things that could have gone horribly wrong when you don’t take the whole rabbit psychology into account.

‘Then, when I graduated, I moved out here from the city so I could do more horse-riding, and ended up volunteering at the animal shelter. They had a violent offender, a rabbit who was impossible to re-home: that was Angus. I took him on. Every now and again I take a waif or stray from them temporarily. Sick or pregnant, or something needing extra care, you know.’

‘Wow,’ said Colin, taking another slug of his coffee and building alarmingly on his cinnamon-flecked frotha-mocha-moustache.

‘That’s how I met Rupi, through the shelter. She helps out with the special needs cases now.’

Rupi smiled beneficently at Colin. Then she passed him a paper napkin, ‘You need this.’

Bernie turned her head and hid a smile in her hand. She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and looked out of the window while she straightened her face.

The amusement was successfully wiped away, but it was replaced by a slightly worried frown.

There was something large and dark in the sky over the moors.

She shifted position to look properly, and was thoroughly unnerved to realise that the object was bigger than a plane.

‘What’s that?’ she asked the others.

Rupi craned over the arm of her own chair, and Colin stopped rubbing his face.

‘Strange,’ he murmured.

‘What is it?’ asked Rupi.

By now there was a sensation – sound on the edge of hearing, vibration so intense it was barely perceived. A gathering quiet fell slowly on the café. As people became uncomfortable, conversations stopped and cups were lowered.

Colin groped for his phone and began to film.

The dark object was growing larger. Definitely larger than a plane, and yet it was still far away.

Bernie whispered, ‘What can it be?’ and groped for Rupi’s hand.

Rupi now stood behind her friend’s chair, squinting up at the sky, ‘I don’t know, but it’s big.’

There was rustling behind them as more people were drawn to see what had attracted their attention.

And still the object grew.

The sound was now upon them, and the sensation reverberated gently in their bowels.

‘Someone should call the police!’ cried a panicked voice from the back of the press of a dozen or so people.

‘Don’t be daft woman,’ came a dour response, ‘that’s a bloomin’ UFO, that is; what’s our Kevin going to do about that? Give it a friggin’ parking ticket?’

‘Well,’ the woman answered, peeved, ‘it’s our civic duty, that’s all. We should tell someone.’

‘I think,’ said someone new, slowly and pointedly, ‘they might just know already...’

Gradually the sky darkened with the increasing bulk of the descending object. It was, thought Bernie, more than double the size of the whole town.

‘This is baaaad,’ she groaned to herself.

Now there was a deep pulsating sound and small objects on tables and chairs added their music, vibrating so fast it was a vague, peripheral high-note.

‘Bernie,’ muttered Rupi, ‘I think we should go.’

All three continued to stare.

It was a mesmerising sight. The immensity of the object was overawing, and now, as it lowered further, it was becoming possible to see relief on the structure. And, it was, no question about it, shaped like a saucer.

‘It’s a flying saucer!’ cried someone needlessly from the rear.

‘It’s a big beggar!’ gaped another, equally obvious, commentator.

Bernie swallowed hard. It was pretty clear that this thing was lowering itself onto the moors. The café grew darker still as its bulk and width blocked the light, yet they all sat or stood spellbound. The pulsating lengthened into a continual buzz and many people put an unconscious hand to their abdomen, feeling the vibration within them. The rattling of loose objects grew louder and everyone had the impression that they were standing on reverberating jelly, not a solid floor.

Colin, frozen with the phone before his face, spoke out of the corner of his mouth, ‘I think Rupi has the right idea...’

Bernie nodded as if in a dream.

‘So let’s goooo!’ growled Rupi, tugging at Bernie’s sleeve.

‘But,’ said Bernie, ‘look at it. It’s monstrous!’

‘Jim!’ announced Colin suddenly, with dawning clarity, and dropped the phone away from his face. ‘We have to go!’

‘OK,’ agreed Bernie, finally looking around.

‘I just said that,’ grumbled Rupi, and led the way, pushing past the small crowd behind them who simply moved into the free space, wanting to get nearer the window for a better view.

All three raced down the stairs and found the ground floor population was also crowded around the window. A handful of customers and passers-by stood in a knot on the pavement outside the front-door, gawking upwards in silence. Nobody seemed to take any notice as they slipped past.

Colin pointed the camera and resumed filming.

It felt as if the mother of all storms was about to break. A blackness was gathering, lightning cracked off the edges of the mass looming above them, and by now they could no longer see it’s extent, only one side of its underbelly, grey and pocked.

‘What now?’ asked Bernie, gazing up with a hanging jaw.

‘I’d go home, but my parents and brothers have all gone off to Bradford, to my Auntie’s,’ replied Rupi, somewhat nonchalantly.

‘Colin! We’re about to be squashed by that thing,’ cried Bernie, ‘please stop filming and say something! Do you have a car?’

‘Sorry,’ said Colin sheepishly. ‘It’s sort of hypnotic, isn’t it. Um, yes, I mean no, not at the minute, it’s with Dave.’

‘Dave?’ chorused both girls.

‘Yes, he’s a mate, he’s a genius with cars, he’s mending mine – mate’s rates, you know.’

‘Oh,’ said Bernie, thinking regretfully of the Bunnymobile which had once more waved a flag of surrender after the trip to the vet, pulling up to the curb with a timely cloud of smoke from under the bonnet. ‘Well, I’d really, really, like to get somewhere safer. Even back up the hill to my place is better than here...’

Rupi immediately set out up the inclining street, ‘Well? Come on then, if you don’t want to be flattened!’

Colin hesitated, ‘I’m going to run over to Dave’s. I’ll catch you up.’ He looked at the two rapidly receding women, ‘Um, be careful?’ he called, then legged it.

Bernie turned briefly and gave his speeding back a worried wave.

***