Read Online Animal Kingdom by Stephen Sewell - Free Book Online Page A

them roaring with laughter down at the pub.
    Journalists huddled behind bushes, snapping photos of them, darting about like scared scavengers. And that’s what they were: the jackals and scavengers of this world feeding on the dead and the dying.
    Pope could have killed every single one of them if he’d been able to move, but he was too overcome with grief to do anything.
    The wake was just as bad: cold and strangled, the RSL hall too big for the few mourners who made their way back.
    Catherine left early without even saying goodbye.
    The whole thing left everyone flat. There was just too much unfinished business, too much left to be said to properly grieve.
    But, later that night, Pope started to say it in the way that Pope so often did. ‘Where’d you get that suit? What’s that suit?’ he asked, sounding interested, as Darren made himself a sandwich on the kitchen bench.
    Smurf was still at the wake, cleaning up, and Craig was slumped in front of the telly, out of it.
    â€˜It’s a suit,’ Darren said, not interested in Pope’s shit.
    â€˜What? Do you think it looks good on you?’ Pope persisted.
    It was the sort of wind-up Pope got up to when he wanted you to do something for him. ‘Looks gay—are you gay?’ he asked.
    Darren wasn’t up to it. ‘Fuck off, will ya?’ he said. Darren was the quiet one, the one who went along with things, and even he’d had enough.
    â€˜It’s a serious question,’ Pope said. ‘I don’t care if you’re gay or you’re not gay, you know.’
    Darren was big enough to thump him, but would never dare, not knowing what Pope would do when he was in a mood like this. And it was dark. Darren knew how dark it was.
    â€˜It’s all right if you are, mate,’ Pope said. ‘I just want you to tell me about it, you know? I don’t care whether you’re gay or you’re not gay; I just want you to talk to me about it.’
    It was like a slow drip eroding your resistance, undercutting you as you tried to ignore it. Eventually you’d throw a punch, you’d be so hurt and angry, and, quick as a flash, Pope would have your arm so far up your back you’d think he was going to snap it off. And then he’d twist it a bit more, just to see you cry.
    So Darren resisted, biting his tongue, and opened the fridge to get something out.
    â€˜You making yourself a drink?’ Pope asked, seeing another line of attack.
    â€˜Yep,’ Darren answered.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜It’s a bourbon and coke.’
    â€˜Bourbon and coke’s not a very gay drink,’ Pope said.
    He didn’t even need to think about it; it was part of his DNA: he knew which buttons to press.
    â€˜I think—look, if you’re a gay man, if you are, and you want to make yourself a gay drink—you know what I mean? This is what I’m talking about, mate. I just want you to tell me things, you know? It just kills me to see you living a lie.’
    â€˜Look, will you fuck off?’ Darren said, picking up the drink. ‘Seriously.’
    â€˜What do you think we should do?’ Pope asked suddenly, staring straight ahead into the shadows.
    And Darren knew exactly what he was talking about, because he’d been thinking about it, too. ‘I think we should be there for Cath,’ he said, ‘and the family and that.’
    Darren didn’t need much encouragement to do nothing, because that was basically his attitude to everything. If the mower was broken he’d just let the grass grow till someone told him to get it fixed. It wasn’t that he was either lazy or cowardly, though he had a big streak of both. Mainly, it was that he was the baby of the family and his mother had just never let go. Darren supposed she liked him being the baby because it made her forget she was getting old; that’s why he’d never told her about the herpes.
    â€˜What are you