Free The Color of Darkness by Ruth Hatfield Page B

irritable. “And yours, whoever you are?” She swung around to Cath, and then noticed Barshin lurking by Cath’s feet. Her face froze.
    What were they all so scared of?
    â€œDanny,” Aunt Kathleen said in a low, warning voice. “You haven’t been up here for months. What’s going on?”
    Danny squirmed under her glare. He’ll crack, Cath thought. He’s the sort who runs sniveling to his parents the moment anything goes wrong. But to her amazement, he pulled himself together enough to shrug.
    â€œI was just … busy,” he said. “This is Cath, the hare’s her pet. She’s from school.”
    Aunt Kathleen narrowed her eyes and looked at her nephew, the girl, and the hare. She gave Cath the longest look of all.
    â€œTom’s up by the wood, seeing to the fences,” she said. “He’ll be down in a minute. You can come in and have some lunch, and I’m going to give your mum a call. I know you’re nearly a teenager, Danny, but you’re still a child as far as the law and your school are concerned.”
    Cath scowled and balled her fists, ready for the questions about where she lived and who her parents were. But the ugly horse-faced woman merely raised an eyebrow at her, went over to the side door of the farmhouse, and opened it.
    â€œIn,” she said. “Where I can keep an eye on you. All of you.”
    *   *   *
    Inside, it was soft and cluttered and comfortable, with sofas and chairs covered in magazines and papers. There was a gentle animal smell, as though the furniture might be alive and warm, heating the house with the fumes of its breath. The kitchen had a big wooden table in the middle, half-covered in letters and bills, but Danny sat down at the clear end as if he did it every day of his life. Barshin crept into the darkness underneath the table and lay with his belly along the floor tiles, nostrils quivering, ears flat along his skull.
    Aunt Kathleen put the kettle on, plonked a fruitcake down on the table, and gouged off a few thick wedges with a bread knife. Cath reached out and wrapped a hand around the biggest slice.
    â€œWhere did you get that hare?” said Aunt Kathleen to Cath.
    Cath was stuffing cake into her mouth. She didn’t stop to answer.
    Aunt Kathleen gave Barshin a hard glance but the hare was still lying motionless on the cool floor, resting his chin on his forepaws and trying to recover control over his shaken stomach, so she gave up and made the tea. She put some mugs on the table and sat down, cradling the warm pot in her hands. There was a long silence while she stirred the tea bags and poured the tea into three mugs. Danny didn’t touch his mug. Cath took a gulp of hers to wash down the cake. The tea was brick red and tasted of iron pipes. She covered the taste with another slice of cake.
    â€œWhat do you want Tom for?” repeated Aunt Kathleen.
    â€œJust … stuff,” Danny said.
    â€œAbout the hare?”
    â€œSort of. You know … he likes animals.”
    â€œHe does,” agreed Aunt Kathleen. “Very much. So much so, in fact, that since last summer he hasn’t stopped looking for them. I hardly see him. Oh, he never misses a milking and he cleans every cut and scrape the cows get, but outside of that—he’s out all day, sometimes all night, for weeks on end. He doesn’t even call Sophie anymore, and they used to be thick as thieves. What’s going on, Danny?”
    Danny stared down at his mug. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Why don’t you ask him?”
    â€œI have. He says he’s watching wildlife. But I know something else is going on—I know it. Can’t you give me any clues?”
    Cath glared at Danny for a sharp second. Just tell the old bat, she wanted to say. Tell her so she’ll sort it out and I can get back to Chromos and be free. But Danny O’Neill was silently struggling