Chapter 3
“I’m afraid it isn’t a very interesting story. Nor a very long one.”
Vincent lay back on the mattress, his head coming to rest by Clay’s hip. In the scant moonlight that filtered in through the net curtains, Clay could make out the features of a man who in other circumstances he would consider extremely good looking. He examined Vincent’s features as best he could, and the strange thing was that the more familiar he got with Vincent’s face, the more comfortable he felt in Vincent’s presence. And although he wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, he felt a flash of attraction for this mysterious stranger.
“It was the seventies. The 1970s—1972, I think. I was living down south near Pemberton. There was a group of us. I guess you could say it was a bit of a commune.
“We lived as
