The Bones of Summer by Anne Brooke Read Free Book Online Page B

things go or had he been planning to mend them over Christmas? After all, they were only a couple of weeks or so away from the big event. Not that it meant that much to him. Not anymore. And it never would again.
    Next to him, Paul hunkered down. He reached out and scrabbled for a second near the larger of the two rocks framing the threshold.
    “What is it?” Craig asked.
    Paul stood up, stretched out his hand, palm open, toward Craig. Something he was holding glittered in the last faint rays of the winter sun.
    “Glass?” he said.
    Paul nodded. “Broken too. Just a few fragments. I caught them in the corner of my eye.”
    Craig shrugged. “My father probably dropped something. Didn't have time to clear it up.”
    Paul didn't reply. So Craig smiled his bravest, most carefree smile at him to show he wasn't fazed by any of these events—that in fact going back to a home he'd run from and a life he'd abandoned several years ago was something he did every week, if not every day—and unlocked the door.
    The hall smelled musty, as if someone had left a long time ago and never been back. It didn't feel as if there'd been anyone living here only recently. The moment he stepped inside, parts of his childhood came racing back. As if they'd been waiting for him for seven years.
    His first day at school. The smell of burning stubble on the land. How frightened he was of next door's Labrador. And how cross that had made his father. Let mankind rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground. How he'd always hated Labradors ever since. Then the long bus ride to secondary school. Playing football on the school pitch. How he'd pined over one of the boys in the class above him for months. What was his name? Oh yes, Gary. Gary Weston.
    All these images came spinning through. Like so many jigsaw pieces Craig couldn't ever fit together or whose picture he couldn't begin to imagine. Over as soon as he'd thought it.
    “Welcome to where I grew up,” he said to Paul, waving him in.
    The first thing he saw was the sheer number of crosses, interspersed with religious texts, nailed to the walls on each side of the hallway. There were far more of them than he'd expected; he was sure there hadn't been quite so many when he left. What had happened to his father over the years? Surely he couldn't have got any more obsessive about his faith? Paul stopped and blinked, his gaze drifting across the scene.
    “He's certainly a religious man, your father,” he said.
    “Yes.” Craig's heart was beating fast. This was a topic he didn't much want to discuss, and he was glad when his boyfriend's next comment took them elsewhere.
    “And you don't think of it as home ?”
    “No. I don't.”
    “I can understand that. Mine isn't either.”
    They were silent for a moment, looking at each other. Then, unsure what to do with the gift Paul seemed to be offering him, Craig took a deep breath.
    “Come on,” he said. “Let's go and search for clues . My father can't be far away. It's just a matter of working out where he is. And then getting out.”
    He led the way down the hall, past the crosses, trying not to look at them, and to the left. Best to get the worst over soonest. So, first stop: his father's office. Somewhere he'd tried his hardest to keep out of when he was living here. It had always been his father's private domain. He and his mother had stayed in the living room. They were happier there. Now he could see layers of dust on the desk, along with more religious artifacts, two bibles, a prayer book, some old buff files, and scattered paperwork.
    Paul gestured at the files. “May I?”
    “Go ahead. You're the professional. If you find out he's been fiddling his taxes and done a runner, let me know how much and let's ... spend it.”
    Damn it. He'd been going to say let's book a holiday , but had had the sense to stop just in time. Gay Rule Number