Chapter 3 Zoe Spring 2025 #2
It must be the front door opening that wakes me. It’s full daylight as I rush into the hall and there she is. ‘Oh, Steph.’ I grab her and pull her to me. ‘I’ve been so worried.’ But I managed to fall asleep, a small part of my brain reminds me.
‘Oh, Mum, it was awful,’ she cries into my shoulder. I hug her tightly, my heart thudding. I will kill whoever has hurt her. I will find them and kill them. I’ll get Paul’s shotgun and—
‘We managed to rescue about three hundred of them but we had to leave the others behind. The mother and babies were left.’
Her body is shuddering against me.
My mind is spinning. ‘What?’ I ask, pulling away from her so I can look at her face.
‘Rats and rabbits. Mainly rats. We couldn’t take the mother and baby rats because of the stress of transportation. And there wasn’t space in the vans.’ She’s sobbing, almost hyperventilating. ‘You could smell the shit and fear from them as soon as we got in the room.’
It’s like she’s a complete stranger. I can’t even work out what she’s saying, what she means. ‘You’re making no sense, Steph. What are you on about?’
‘Even the ones we rescued are in an awful state. The cages are so, so small, Mum. It would break your heart. How can anyone do things like that?’
My mind is on overdrive. Rats and rabbits. She was rescuing rats and rabbits? Maybe Paul’s right. I was too sympathetic when she rescued that rabbit years ago, I should have shown her it was wrong and told her off and maybe she wouldn’t be doing this now. Maybe this is all my fault.
I lead her into the kitchen and she sits down at the table as I put the kettle on.
Terry jumps up on to her lap, and settles down straight away. She strokes him under his chin.
I sink into a chair. ‘Right, start from the beginning. What were you doing?’ But she’s not listening, she’s in her own world.
‘Some have open wounds on their skin, some burns from where they’re testing stuff on them. Make-up, cosmetics. Can you imagine? All that suffering for some anti-wrinkle cream?’
My mind whirrs. The kettle clicks off and I automatically stand and go through the rigmarole of making tea. I slide the mug in front of Steph and sit back down.
She sniffs the mug. ‘Actually, can I have coffee?’
‘Coffee before bed? It’ll keep you awake. Have the tea, it’s got sugar in it. It’ll help you relax.’
She shakes her head. ‘Coffee helps me focus enough to sleep. It stops all the thoughts.’
Thoughts? What thoughts? Is she suicidal? She seems quite positive in a manic sort of way, not depressed. I put the tea in front of my chair and make her a coffee instead. ‘Where was all of this? Who were you with?’
‘There’s a laboratory outside of Uckfield, tucked away in the Downs. You’d never know it was there.’
I go cold. ‘Uckfield is miles away. Did you not go bowling?’
Steph looks confused. ‘Bowling?’
‘You said you were going bowling. In town.’
She laughs. ‘Oh no, that was just to get out of the house.’ So Paul was right.
‘We’ve been staking out this place for months.
Watching the security guard’s routine, opening and closing windows to see how good the security is, working out the best places to get through the fence unseen, where to stand as a lookout. ’
My mind seems to be working in slow motion.
I can’t understand what she’s saying, what it all means.
I hand her the sweet coffee. She cradles it in her hands.
Her eczema’s bad at the moment, the skin split and a mix of blood and clear liquid oozing out.
I wish she’d use the steroid cream the doctor prescribed. Another worry.
‘We’d worked out that the guard walked the perimeter of the building on the hour, every hour.
But he wears headphones with music so loud we could hear it from the other side of the fence.
’ She starts smiling for the first time that morning.
‘I thought it was Guns N’ Roses he listened to.
But P— Well, the others think it’s U2. Anyway, he then sits in a box room for the rest of the time so we could easily get in and rescue the animals. ’
‘Who were you with?’ The ‘P’ has not been lost on me.
‘Oh, just the usual gang, but there was more of us this time. We needed all the people we could find to get the animals safely out.’
‘The gang?’ Gang doesn’t sound good.
‘It’s just an expression, Mum. The ALF.’
‘ALF?’ The gang. This is some weird nightmare. Who is P?
‘Animal Liberation Front,’ she says.
Animal libbers. Oh my God. Of course. It all slips into place now.
She must have been with them at the fair last year, though she refused to say.
The policeman mentioned animal libbers rescuing goldfish.
‘But they’re terrorists,’ I say. I’ve read about them in the newspaper.
‘What they’re doing is against the law – you could be arrested, sent to prison. ’
‘Oh, Mum, you worry too much. What we’re doing is so important. We’re taking a stand – no one else cares enough. If the public knew what was going on in those places they’d be horrified.’
Is she right? I really don’t know. ‘Where did you take them?’ I ask, taking a sip of tea. Try to stay calm. Breathe. She’s talking. Don’t scare her off by freaking out. She never talks to me. Even though what she’s saying is scary, I love that she’s talking to me.
‘There’s a farm about ten miles away, near Pulborough. A lady called Mary. We loaded them off there into a barn. She said she’ll start to rehabilitate and rehome them.’
‘Where did you go after that?’
‘Well, we dropped everyone off. And then—’ She pauses for a fraction of a second. ‘They came back here and dropped me off.’
They. If they is P, if they is a boy then they’re old enough to drive. So seventeen. At least. And he didn’t come up the drive, did he? Like a normal friend would. He dropped her at the end and scurried off, like one of the rats. Animal libbers.
‘So they drive?’
‘Yes.’ She takes a sip of coffee. I can feel her start to calm down. She’s coming off the high, the adrenalin of it all. I can’t imagine what it would be like to break into somewhere like that, to do what she’s done. She must be exhausted. ‘They have to drive, to rescue the animals, otherwise—’
‘I can’t believe you’re involved with animal libbers,’ I say, not able to stop myself. ‘It’s so dangerous. It’s illegal.’
She shrugs. ‘It’s worth it, Mum. We have right on our side.’ Her eyes are starting to droop. I need to get some food into her and then her into bed.
‘Let me get you some toast. Then I’ll dress your poor hand, your eczema’s bad again. And then bed. You need to sleep.’
‘Thanks, Mum. And sorry I was so late. I thought it would be over much quicker. That you wouldn’t notice I’d gone.’
I kiss the top of her head and get the bread knife out of the rack to slice the loaf. As I cut into the crust my hand won’t stop shaking.
Animal libbers.