Victoria dropped her heavy suitcases onto the hallway floor.

“Hurray! Mummy’s home!” the girls squealed, racing out of the nursery to greet her.

Vicky smiled. Finally, she was back! Behind her were four months of training courses, a shabby dormitory, exams… She hugged and kissed her daughters as they clung to her. And of course, there were presents!

“Emily, this is for you!” Mum handed her eldest a gorgeous, fluffy jumper. With a delighted shriek, fashion-loving Em dashed off to the nursery—only to rush back, throwing her arms around her mother sheepishly.

“Thank you, Mummy! I’ve wanted one just like this!” And off she went again.

“Katie, love, this is yours!” Mum pulled something white and blue, soft and indistinct, from the suitcase.

Grandma Rose raised her eyebrows in surprise. What on earth was this strange thing now cradled in her youngest granddaughter’s slender hands? A toy, perhaps?

Staring up at Katie with lopsided eyes was a rabbit. Its head was hard, made of papier-mâché, while its belly and paws were stuffed with sawdust. The rabbit was white, with short synthetic fur, dressed in a blue peasant-style shirt.

There was just one problem.

It was the ugliest toy imaginable. One eye was bigger than the other, and they sat unevenly. Its long, hooked nose tilted stubbornly to one side, and its thin lips were frozen in a crooked, apologetic grin—as if embarrassed by its own ugliness.

“Blimey!” Emily exclaimed, twirling in her new jumper. “Mum, what *is* that monstrosity?”

“Darling…” Grandma Rose sighed. “Tell me—did all of London run out of decent toys? This one’s fit for scaring crows in a field!”

At those words, little Katie flinched, hugged the rabbit tight, and ran to the nursery.

“Mum, I understand your reaction,” Victoria said. “But… Harrods is enormous, packed with toys, shelves bursting with them… And there he was, all alone on the very bottom one. I felt so sorry for him. I think—well, I swear—he looked happy when I picked him up. As if he whispered *Thank you*.”

Grandma shook her head, unconvinced, and waved a dismissive hand. Her grown daughter, a top consultant, still hadn’t outgrown sentimentality. Post-war childhoods didn’t spoil children with abundance.

The hideous rabbit, made in some distant Midlands factory, became Katie’s most treasured possession. She named him Reginald, and the way she rolled the R’s in her posh accent only made him seem more ridiculous.

By day, Reggie waited patiently for Katie to come home from school. By night, he listened to her stories and whispered secrets. She fell asleep with his scruffy face pressed against her cheek.

Years flew by.

After countless washes, Reggie’s fur yellowed—sawdust had seeped into the fabric—and his blue shirt faded to a pale wash. He looked even more dreadful, which only made Katie love him more.

At seventeen, when her older sister had a baby boy, Oliver, the ghastly rabbit found new purpose. As soon as little Ollie could understand the world around him, Reggie became his hero. Whispering sweet nothings, the toddler would drift off to sleep just as his aunt had done years before.

When Ollie reluctantly handed Reggie over to his tearful baby cousin, Archie, sadness turned to joy as the little boy clutched the rabbit to his chest. Reggie had a new companion.

No one was surprised when Archie, years later, pressed the battered toy into the hands of a crying girl in the playground, murmuring something into Reggie’s ear. The girl blinked at Archie—but took the rabbit.

That should have been the end of it—Reggie passing out of the family forever. Except…

It was hard to say how many years had passed since Archie’s kind gesture. Recently, elderly Victoria visited her childhood friend, Margaret, now as grey-haired as she was. Over tea, reminiscing, Victoria told the story of the hideous rabbit.

“Wait—you mean *this* thing?” Margaret asked, pulling a shapeless, faded lump from behind a cushion.

“Reggie!” Victoria gasped.

“Whoever he is, I’ve been trying to chuck him out for years. But my great-granddaughter, Lily, won’t let me. Some kid gave him to her when she scraped her knee in the park…”

Victoria held the toy. Memories flooded back—Katie’s small hands clutching Reggie, the way he’d been loved through generations. She smiled.

Sometimes, the things that seem worthless hold the most value, not for how they look, but for the love they carry.