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When my husband unrolled the back door of the brewery’s lorry and hoisted first one cage, then another, onto our driveway, I said nothing For months now, I have greeted most of his gestures with silence, and I didn’t see why this should be any different I merely watched from the window with our two boys, Ryan and Jake Ryan – who, at 14, is three years older than Jake and thinks himself quite the man – smirked as his little brother gave a jump of excitement and rushed to the door But soon we were both following him out, eager to see what was in those cages   Neil stood, proudly displaying his offering On the first cage, the name BOBO was painted in scrappy green letters Inside, a small, dun-coloured rabbit sniffed the air enthusiastically   A thumping noise came from the second cage Moving closer, I saw a flash of something black and muscled MUFFIN was painted above this one’s door   Ryan and his father lugged the cages to the back of the house and stacked them on top of one another beneath the overgrown conifers I didn’t offer to help, despite Neil’s meaningful look in my direction The wood on those hutches was rough, and when he’d finished I could see Ryan kneading his fingers together behind his back No doubt he’d got several splinters, but it would have gained me nothing to question him   Neil stood back ‘They’re both bucks,’ he said ‘I made sure of that Don’t want them breeding like rabbits’ A wink at Ryan ‘So you just have to decide which one is yours’   Before Jake could speak, Ryan pointed to the top cage ‘I’ll have the black one’   Neil handed Ryan a packet of small brown pellets that smelled like rancid Marmite ‘Better get them fed,’ he said, and went back into the house Tuesday evening was his quiz night, which left me alone with the boys   I’ve always been close to both my sons Neil sometimes accuses me of favouring Ryan, and perhaps, despite my efforts to be fair, this is true Ryan is, and always has been,