The Dangerous Truth about Mad Catwomen (Tales of ice-cream and espionage) by J M Salisbury

Author:J M Salisbury [Salisbury, J M]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: WCPZ Publishing
Published: 2013-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

Winciette busied herself in the kitchen, drying up cups and plates already dry; wiping down surfaces that were perfectly clean. Belle stalked from room to room, her tail twitching from side to side, unused to anyone in the house other than herself and Winciette.

Jack had carried Danny into the house, and they had cleaned the wound on his head to reveal a wide cut, and a lot of bruising going into the hair line.

‘It looks nasty,’ Winciette had said to Jack, as he supported the boy’s face, while she cleaned away the sand and grime, ‘but it’s not deep. I doubt whether he’s concussed from this.’

Danny was half asleep, but he opened his eyes. ‘I just need a shuteye, then I’ll get out of your hair. I need to get home.’

‘Okay Danny. Have a rest and then we’ll sort that out for you. Jack, would you mind taking him to the room on the left down the corridor. It might be better if you helped him get comfortable rather than me.’ Jack had supported the boy into the guest room, and helped him remove his hoody and his boots and jeans, then tucked him under the duvet like a little child.

He came back into the kitchen, his face suffused with anger. ‘I want to punch something, Winciette. That kid has been battered.’ He swept his hand across his forehead, and over his short cropped hair, then thumped it into his other palm. ‘It makes me so angry.’

‘Not sure that would help, Jack.’

‘I know, but you didn’t see his back and his shoulders. It looks like he’s been set about with a rounders bat.’

‘I wonder if we should take him to hospital,’ Winciette said, more to herself than to Jack, ‘I should never have let him get involved in all this.’

‘Don’t think you could have stopped this. It wasn’t the first time I’d say. There’s a lot of old bruising on his legs and all over his body. I’d let him sleep.’ He handed her Danny’s clothes. They were covered in mud and sand, and traces of blood. ‘He asked me if you would wash these for him.’

Winciette took the clothes off Jack and held them up. The jeans were threadbare, nearly worn through in the seat, the hems tattered; the hoody was splitting under the arms, the cuffs unravelling; the underwear barely held together.

‘I know kids wear scruffy clothes, Jack, but this is extreme isn’t it? I wonder if he would let me buy him new ones – though I fear it might just get him another battering. I don’t know about wanting to punch something, it makes me want to sob.’

‘You don’t think the police will want to see them – perhaps you could use that as an excuse?’ Jack suggested, ‘though I doubt he’ll want to press charges. He was scared someone would take his sisters away.’

Winciette shook her head. ‘I’ll just wash them like he asked. But perhaps I’ll talk to his grandmother. I wonder if she knows.

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