The Bones of Summer by Anne Brooke

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.