The Bones of Summer (10 page)

Reggie Birt's eyes widened and he muttered something under his breath that might have been a prayer, or a curse, before replying. “Daniel should be worried about many things. He is on the road to hell and must take care he doesn't fall into the devil's clutches.”

“So should we all, indeed,” Paul began but Craig had had enough.

“Look, Mr. Birt,” he said. “I know we've had our quarrels in the past but, please, I'm just here to find out about my father. I won't interfere with your church or in my father's life. I don't want to do either. I understand you might not want to say anything to the police or to Andrea, but I used to be a member of the Fellowship. If my father's gone away, on retreat or something, then you can speak to me. Once I know where he is, I'll be out of your life and you won't have to see me again. That's a promise.”

Mr. Birt drew himself up to his full height and shook his head. “You were never a member of our church, Daniel. You rejected the right path and now you must reap the consequences. Your father too is stained with your sin. He brought you up to wickedness and has done nothing to make you right with the Lord. Before he left us, he confessed the sin you'd committed with the sodomite all those years ago. He'd kept it from us, lied to us all for so long. I told him that meant both of you were under the judgment of the Lord. Now it is up to him to put things right.”

“Is that when he left?” Craig took two paces back, glanced wildly around as if his father might appear from nowhere to confront him. “Why? What was he going to do?”

“Pray. And then do what the Lord wills,” the elder said. “That is what we should all do. You also, Daniel. You should pray. Come, we can pray together now. Though the Fellowship has agreed it is wrong for me even to be talking to you, yet God is merciful. Kneel with me here and God can forgive your uncleanness and your sodomy. He can heal you and set you on the right path again.”

A long silence filled only with the moaning of the wind and the distant harshness of crows. Craig could sense Paul's eyes on him. Finally Craig spoke.

“No,” he said quietly. So quietly that Reggie had to lean forward to hear him. “No. There's nothing wrong with the way I am or with what I do. If I believe nothing else, then I believe that. It's the one good thing I've learnt, the one thing you never taught me.”

When he finished speaking, he reached out and took hold of Paul's hand. He squeezed it and held on.

Reggie Birt's reaction was instant. His face closed in and he lifted his cross, aiming it at them like a weapon. Or a defense against attack.

“
Sinners
,” he hissed. “You are both mired in sin and like dogs you cannot leave it alone. Like Sodom and Gomorrah, you will burn in hell and the fires will never go out. Now,
leave me.
I have no wish to consort with such as you. I must be clean.”

He closed his eyes then and began to speak in tongues, swaying backward and forward, as he had used to do in the Sunday services. Paul gripped Craig to him.

“Our pleasure, Mr. Birt,” Paul said, his voice as grim as his expression. “We won't disturb your peace anymore. Thank you for your time.”

As they walked back across the fields to the car, Craig found he was trembling.

“Sorry,” he said once they were on the way back to Andrea's. “I should have warned you, but it's hard to think what to say. It's just what they're
like
, you know?”

“It's okay,” Paul said. “It's not your fault.”

When Craig's former neighbor opened the door to them both, she took one look at their faces and ushered them into the living room—where hot sweet tea and biscuits were swiftly provided.

After they'd told her what had happened, she sighed. “Religion. I swear it's the cause of all the evils in this world. I'm sorry you both had to go through that. Reggie has very strong opinions. He's always been that way.”

“I know.” Craig leaned forward and patted Andrea on the leg. “I remember. I wouldn't have got through my teenage years without you, you know. I never thanked you for that, but I'm thanking you now. I'm truly grateful.”

Andrea reddened and brushed the compliment aside. “Nonsense. It was a pleasure to see you knowing your own mind. I enjoyed your company. I think your mother would be proud of you, you know. If she knew. I just wish she'd felt she could have come back to see you, even once. I would never have told your father.”

Then she stopped as if she'd said too much. Craig swallowed.

“I know,” he said. “But—”

“Yes, your father.... Like Reggie, he has strong opinions about marriage.”

They were silent for a moment or two before Andrea spoke again.

“Well,” she said, as if drawing them both back from a path neither wanted to travel on. “It's a shame that it's been a wasted journey for you today. In terms of what you wanted to find out anyway.”

“That's not entirely true,” Paul said. “We've learnt one thing. It looks like Craig's father left of his own accord, and for religious reasons has gone to ground for a while. I imagine he'll reappear again when he's ready. I don't think the church has got anything to do with it, though they might have been a catalyst.”

“Good,” Craig said, glad they were back on less-dangerous ground. “I was beginning to wonder if they might have kidnapped him for not having a suitable son and were holding him until I repented. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past them.”

Both Paul and Andrea laughed and, after a moment or so, he joined in. It felt like the first perspective he'd had on his years growing up since ... well, since forever.

Half an hour later, they said their goodbyes, with promises of staying in touch that he hoped he'd keep. And not just because of his father.

Craig drove back. It was fair, after all. It was only when they'd hit the outskirts of London that he said what he'd been mulling over since they left Devon.

“Paul, I think you're right about my father. He'll resurface when he's good and ready. There's not much I can do about that. But, still, being back to where I grew up has made me think. About what went on. About what I can do about it. So I'm going to try to find Michael. There are things I need to find out.”

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Chapter Nine

“Such as?”

A fair enough question, Craig supposed, seeing as Michael was his first lover and Paul his current one. If he'd been in Paul's position, he would have wanted to know what the heck he was doing as well. The most surprising thing, however, was that Paul hadn't asked the question until now.
Now
being nearly three weeks later and the beginning of January. Though in the meantime they'd had Christmas, separately, seen each other every couple of days or so, and had sex a hell of a lot. On top of all that, Paul had had a case he'd needed to wrap up and Craig had been doing a series of photo shoots for a fashion mag. They'd wanted to have the English winter look. Too bad that they'd had to make their own snow. Maybe Paul simply hadn't found time to ask the question then. Christmas was a bugger really.

Right now, they were sitting in Craig's kitchen. Maddy was cooking rice and one of her strange homemade sauces. He hoped it wouldn't taste like the last one. He and Julie had been forced to rinse it down the sink when she'd been out of the room for a few moments. Paul had just opened the wine he'd brought and was pouring it into three glasses. Julie was still at her parents’ place; Christmas lasted longer in Pinner. Craig was slumped at the table, trying to cope with the start of a whole new year and wondering when his father might deign to reappear again. What was he on? Another secret religious pilgrimage? Or was his first thought of some strange ritualistic kidnapping by the Fellowship the right one after all? God only knew.

It was then that Craig repeated what he'd told Paul on the drive back to London. It was then that Paul finally asked his question.

Craig frowned and took a slurp of the wine. Really, he needed it. “Don't worry. It's not what-might-have-been stuff. That doesn't matter. I just need to know what happened. At the time, I mean. When I left home, everything was very confused. I didn't get my head together for a while so I couldn't cope with anything. Not for a few months really. Seeing as I can't do much about my father, let's see if I can go back and clear that part of my life up at least. And anyway, I need to know what happened to Michael afterwards.”

Paul stared at him. “And once you've found him?”

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “It'll be enough just to know ... what he's doing now. I don't want to talk to him or anything. I mean, what's the bloody point of that? I don't need to revisit love's young dream or all that. That's what
you're
for, isn't it?”

He grinned at Paul and Paul grinned back, even though Craig's heart was beating fast, and there were memories at the edge of his mind that he couldn't quite acknowledge. Didn't know if he wanted to.

“I like to think so,” Paul said.

“I don't mean to be boring,” Maggie's voice burst into the sudden intimacy of the conversation and Craig blinked, “but
who the hell is Michael?
”

It took a while to explain. While he was trying to tell his best friend enough to keep her happy but not so much to make her ask more questions he wasn't prepared to answer, Paul looked after the rice. Craig couldn't help hoping that might mean the sauce would be edible too.

When at last he'd finished, Maddy rocked back on the chair and let out a low whistle. “Wow! You certainly like a bit of drama in your life, don't you?”

“It wasn't like—”

“Oh, come
on
. A mysterious stranger sweeps you off your feet, has his wicked way, and then vanishes. What's not dramatic about that?”

Craig laughed. “Actually, it was me that vanished rather than him. I imagine he just went home. Which puts a damper on your version, doesn't it?”

“Maybe.” Maddy shrugged. “Still a great story though. And now you want to find this guy again?”

“Find
out
about him,” he corrected her, noticing the sideways glance she'd given Paul as she'd spoken. “There's a difference.”

Maddy opened her mouth to speak, but Paul chose that moment to grab the plates from the side and start spooning out the rice onto them.

“Difference or not,” he said, “this is about ready and I suggest we eat.”

They did. It was delicious. Well, okay, maybe not delicious, but a damn sight better than anything Maddy—or even Julie—had ever produced. So Craig for one wasn't complaining.

But there was still something he needed to know.

“Paul?” he ventured as they were scraping their plates. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“If I want to find out where Michael is now, how do I go about it? I'm not asking you to do anything. God knows you've got other stuff going on, and this is something I want to do for myself. But I need some tips. Please?”

Paul put down his fork, tore off a slice of kitchen towel, and wiped his mouth with it.

“The last time I agreed to help out a boyfriend in more than a casual way,” he said, his eyes hooking Craig's and not letting go, “I ended up being set up, shot at, and tortured. And I lost someone very close to me. It wasn't pleasant.”

He stopped speaking and Craig saw him swallow. Deeply, as if once more swallowing down other words he wouldn't allow himself to say. The atmosphere in the small kitchen was so thick as to be almost unbreakable. Maddy stared at him, her eyes wide.

Craig took Paul's hand and kept holding his gaze. “I'm truly sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” he whispered. “Anyway, I've taken you to Devon, so I suppose I'm already involved ... in something. And the boyfriend in question was an ex.
The
ex.”

“I promise I won't ever set you up,” Craig said. “I don't have a gun. And I'm not your ex.”

Another moment of silence.

Then Paul said, “Okay. I'll help you. Have you got a computer?”

“Of course,” Maddy replied. “No problem.”

* * * *

It took them just a week. Not that they were doing that all the time. After all, they had lives to lead and the beginnings of a relationship to look after. But watching Paul carry out his business fascinated Craig. Paul was a good teacher too, allowing him to take the lead, ask questions, letting the net gradually close in on what he found he was thinking of as his prey. Craig came to see how being a private investigator could take you over and be an all-consuming part of life. It made him wonder what Paul would think of his modeling/acting career if he ever had the chance to watch him in return. Strangely, it also made him feel in charge of his past for the first time. Or at least the first time he could remember. Looking back, it seemed as if he'd been running all his life, certainly in the past seven years, reacting to shadows, half-memories, fears he could only glimpse, never grasp. Now, with this decision, he was doing something about it. And because he wanted to. Not because somebody else had forced him into it.

The shadows, however, grew darker. Several nights that week, Craig woke up, nightmares tearing at the edges of sleep. Pictures of his mother slipping away. A dripping tap. The color red. Danger. The fourth night, it was so bad that he surfaced groaning, clutching at the pillows and managing to wake Paul, who'd spent the night with him.

“
What...?
What's happening?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, heart racing so much he could hardly catch his breath. “Nightmare, I think. That's all.”

“Bugger. Come here.” Paul pulled Craig to him. Then, “God, you can hardly breathe. And you're so cold.”

“F-felt real.”

“Hush.” He wound his legs around Craig's and pulled him even closer, so he was wrapped in his boyfriend's body. Paul held him until his breathing had steadied and he felt warmer again.

“Thanks,” Craig whispered after a while.

“'S'okay,” he said. “Do you get a lot of nightmares?”

Craig snuggled against him and felt the beat of his heart. “Used to. Not so much recently though. Not ‘til this week anyway.”

“I see. Do you think it's to do with this mission we're on? To find Michael?”