Free Castle Of Bone by Penelope Farmer Page B

ripples came and broke the world. Then he awoke to lie quite calm and peaceful, his body, released, almost floating in the bed. He did not need to move to make himself comfortable. He fell asleep like that and did not dream, and woke in the morning lying as before, not a limb having shifted, not a finger.
    It was very early, well before breakfast. Hugh got up and went to the park and walked by himself in clear, cool sunlight; shadows important, light significant. Sight and sound were quite separate experiences – the roads were full of cars, but the noise they made was not all related to the engines that made them. It was a calm, a whole, yet disjointed world, empty of anyone save Hugh himself. The people in cars were part of the machines, and so did not count, he thought, as people.
    He walked for much longer than he meant and came back late even for his mother’s breakfast, meeting Penn and Anna at the gate. Both looked cross, appeared to be arguing – they stopped when Hugh arrived and smiled at him, but the smiles might have been to spite each other rather than welcome him, he thought.
    The house smelt of sausages and shaving soap, among other familiar things harder to define, because they were always there, and well amalgamated. But as they went down the basement stairs, another smell met them, strong, unpleasant, all too recognizable.
    “Cat,” said Penn, disapprovingly.
    “But our cat . . .” said Hugh.
    “Perhaps Humbert’s come back,” Anna said.
    But there was in the kitchen no full-grown Humbert, only a black kitten regarding gingerly a saucerful of milk. On the other side of the saucer Jean knelt, looking at the kitten.
    “He’s sweet,” she said. “He was sitting outside the cat door, just as if he wanted to come in.”
    “He’s peed. It stinks,” Penn said.
    “Perhaps we could keep him even if Humbert does come back. He looks a bit like Humbert . . .”
    “Black all over,” Anna said.
    The moment he had seen the kitten Hugh knew what had happened; what the kitten was. Anna knew too. He looked at her quickly, found her looking at him – both hastily removed their eyes from each other. Anna scratched her nose and chewed her tongue, and seemed not particularly concerned. Hugh, decidedly shaken, looked at the table and considered unenthusiastically a cold sausage and two elderly slices of toast.
    “Is that my breakfast? Where’s Ma?”
    “Upstairs, cross, gone to get you out of bed.”
    “I’ve been for a walk. God almighty, we usually have to get her up,” said Hugh indignantly.
    “She was in that sort of mood this morning. You know, energetic.”
    “For once,” said Hugh.
    “Your ma energetic ?” Penn asked.
    “Shut up,” said Hugh furiously. “It’s none of your business.”
    “Isn’t your room still in a mess?” asked Jean.
    The kitten was actually lapping now; lapping milk slowly, with deliberation.
    “Humbert,” Hugh said. And felt Anna nod.
    “We can’t call him Humbert. Humbert might come back. It’s still only one night after all.”
    “He won’t come back,” said Hugh, but to himself.
    Anna paused when they started up the stairs, waiting for Hugh who was scavenging for food.
    “Do you remember what we said yesterday?” Hugh ate the end of a sausage and considered the question. He could see Penn looking down at them with some hostility.
    “Immortality,” hissed Anna eagerly.
    “I don’t think much of an immortal cat,” said Hugh.
    “The Egyptians thought cats were immortal, sacred anyway. We’ve got a postcard on our mantelpiece.”
    “What are you talking about. What’s got into you, Ann?” shouted Penn from the top of the basement stairs.
    “Nothing, except my brother,” Anna said coldly.
    They met Hugh’s mother in the hall, still in her dressing-gown and very indignant. All the time she was shouting she looked at Hugh’s toast and marmalade, as if wondering whether to eat a slice of it herself.
    “Why can’t you have your breakfast at