The Savages

by Matt Whyman

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Aperitif

  First Course

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Second Course

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Third Course

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Digestif

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This book is dedicated to my children,

  who put up with my cooking on a daily basis

  APERITIF

  At the table, Titus Savage spotted his son picking his teeth with one finger.

  ‘Manners,’ he reminded the boy quietly. ‘We’re not animals.’

  As he spoke, the rest of the family continued with their dessert. Everyone seemed subdued and even exhausted, which was in complete contrast to when they sat down to eat. It was the boy, Ivan, who had been first to finish. Like any twelve-year-old with nothing left on his plate, he began to fidget and sigh to himself.

  ‘Can I get down now?’ he asked hopefully. ‘My computer’s waiting for me to make the next move at chess. I will beat it this time.’

  His father responded by inviting him to look around.

  ‘When everyone is ready,’ he said. ‘This is a special occasion, after all.’

  At the opposite end of the table from Titus sat an angel. At least that’s how Titus viewed his wife, Angelica. Without her, family life would fall apart. She kept the house immaculate, and her cooking today had been simply divine. Titus caught her eye as she spooned the last of the dessert into her mouth. It was a trifle she had prepared, using a home-made recipe for the jelly. Like every course of the meal they had enjoyed, the taste was unusual but compelling. For a moment, Angelica looked embarrassed. It was as if she felt she should not have been caught losing herself to the taste quite so openly. Still, Titus seemed to relish her expression. He sat back, clasped his hands across a surprisingly lean stomach given the amount of food he’d just consumed, and considered his children. While Ivan had already finished, his sister continued to take small, almost reluctant mouthfuls. Titus recognised that the family had put away a feast. Even so, he was surprised to see her looking quite so indifferent to clearing her plate.

  ‘Something on your mind, Sasha?’ Titus reached for his water glass to freshen his palate. ‘This is your favourite, no?’

  ‘I’m good,’ she said, without looking up.

  Both kids had inherited his crow-black hair. Sasha kept her locks pinned neatly with a series of clips, while Ivan’s high hair line suggested it would one day whiten, thin and recede just as Titus had experienced as a younger man. Nowadays, he shaved his dome on a daily basis. Titus found it commanded respect, especially in the workplace. Right now, however, his attention was locked on his eldest child. Sasha ran her spoon around the inside of the bowl but was clearly just toying with it. He glanced at his wife, seeking some explanation for their daughter’s behaviour. Angelica just shrugged as if to suggest that she was none the wiser.

  ‘Are you feeling poorly, honey?’ Angelica had spent much of the day preparing this meal. As ever, it had all been planned meticulously, from sourcing the ingredients to the cooking and the ceremonial serving. For Titus to see their firstborn show such a lack of enthusiasm was frankly a little insulting. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?’

  Sasha set her spoon down in the bowl.

  ‘I’m fine. The food is great. I’m just not that hungry right now.’

  For a moment, Titus and Angelica shared the same puzzled and concerned expression. It was an awkward moment that was also felt by Ivan.

  ‘Hey, I have a joke,’ he announced, and waited until everyone was looking at him. ‘OK, why didn’t the chicken make it across the road?’

  Titus turned to his son.

  ‘Go on. Why not?’

  ‘Because it was crushed under the wheels of a bus!’

  The silence that greeted the punchline seemed to come as a surprise to the boy.

  ‘That’s really terrible,’ said Sasha, shaking her head. ‘Quite sick, actually.’

  ‘So, now you’re an expert in comedy?’ Ivan glared at his sister, stung by the criticism. ‘There’s not one funny bone in your body.’

  ‘Nobody is laughing,’ she said, and gestured at the others.

  ‘But it’s a great joke!’

  ‘More like a cry for help.’

  ‘That’s enough.’ Titus showed them both his palms. ‘This is no place for an argument. Ivan, perhaps you should keep your jokes to yourself. Sasha, it’s unlike you to be so harsh. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Dad, really. Just leave it.’

  Ivan narrowed his gaze at his sister. A thin smile crossed his lips.

  ‘Sasha’s got a boyfriend,’ he said, and sat back to watch her squirm. ‘She’s in love. It’s killed her appetite.’

  ‘He’s not really a boyfriend as such,’ Sasha said quickly, before scowling at her brother. ‘Jack and I are just good friends.’

  ‘Friends who hold hands at break time! And he’s in the year above, which is basically cradle-snatching.’

  ‘Ivan, maybe you shouldn’t keep your computer waiting.’

  The way their father said this, so calmly and measured, left Sasha thinking she might be in for an interrogation. Her parents weren’t overly strict, but they were very, very protective.

  ‘Could you look in on Grandpa on the way?’ Angelica placed a hand on Ivan’s wrist as he rose to leave. ‘I put his main course through the blender, so he shouldn’t have had a problem with it. Just go quietly. The baby is sleeping.’

  Ivan sighed to himself, nodded once and then shot a victorious look at his sister. Sasha chose not to clash with him again. Their mother might have just tried to diffuse the situation by changing the subject, but it was clear that wasn’t going to work with her dad. Even a mention of the youngest family member had failed to draw his attention. Titus adored his little daughter, Kat, who at fifteen months wasn’t exactly a baby any more, but that was just how they liked to treat her. Kat looked totally different to her siblings, with blonde ringlets and an expression of pure innocence. If Sasha was about to disappoint her father, as she feared might be the case, no doubt Kat would live up to his expectations in due course.

  ‘Jack is really nice,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s nothing serious.’

  ‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ said Angelica. ‘Isn’t it, Titus?’

  The prompt served to soften his frown. To hear that Sasha had a boyfriend was a new experience for Titus. It only seemed like yesterday that she was dressing up as a fairy princess just as so many little girls liked to do. This was a whole new challenge to him as a parent, but then it wouldn’t defeat him. Family came first, no matter what.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to invite …’ Titus trailed off and looked to his wife for a prompt.

  ‘Jack,’ Angelica reminded him. ‘She said his name was Jack.’

  Titus nodded, clearly struggling with it all.

  ‘It would be great if
Jack could join us for supper one day.’

  ‘Dad!’ Sasha looked aghast. ‘Too soon?’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Angelica. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet him in good time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sasha mumbled, staring at the napkin in her lap.

  Angelica glanced at Titus, and then switched her gaze right back to their daughter.

  ‘But, you know, when you’re ready,’ she told her, ‘Jack would be welcome to come for a bite to eat.’

  Sasha began to wring her napkin through her fingers.

  ‘Is that too much as well?’ her father enquired. ‘Help us out here, honey?’

  A moment passed before Sasha replied. When she did, knowing what kind of response would follow, it clearly took her a great deal of courage.

  ‘You might as well know now. Jack is … well, not like us.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Titus.

  Sasha faced each parent in turn.

  ‘He’s vegetarian.’

  For a second, it looked as if both Titus and Angelica Savage had frozen in time. Sasha reminded herself to breathe, and then decided it might be best for everyone if she too left the table.

  FIRST COURSE

  1

  When bad things come to light about someone, it’s easy to overlook what was good about them.

  For Sasha Savage, only her close friends can remember what she was really like. They could tell you everything from the name of her first crush (some carefully constructed, badly vetted boy band bassist currently serving jail time for sex with a minor), to what she told them was her guiltiest secret (the fact that she still dreamed her first time would be with him). She could laugh at herself, looked out for others, and was even ranked as ‘trustworthy’ in the last online quiz they ever took together, entitled Fake or Mate?

  Before the story broke, Sasha was all set to turn sixteen with only her exams standing in the way of the best summer of her life. Then the truth emerged. Overnight, as if a spell had been cast from above, she and her family became monsters.

  The investigation closed some time ago. The media feeding frenzy has moved on, while the controversial movie was just too soon, uncomfortably sensational and went straight to DVD. Despite everything, it is perhaps a measure of Sasha’s character that her friends still claim they would like to carry on where they left off. Should she ever resurface, which is considered close to unthinkable, they wouldn’t shut the door on her. Nor would they contact the Detective Inspector on the number he told them to call if there was ever a development. Not straight away, at least. They might keep their distance from her, of course, which is understandable under the circumstances. More strikingly, nobody would push her for any kind of explanation. Sasha never breathed a word to them in all those years they’d known her, so why would she offer one now? Instead, they’d try to see through the portrait that’d been painted to find the girl who had shared so much of their lives. Besides, with every last scrap of evidence out in the open, from phone records to witness statements and even the grisly report from the drainage experts, it only takes a little imagination to get under the skin of the Savage family, and come close to the truth about what really happened.

  Take her mother, Angelica. She took herself into the garden the morning after Sasha overshadowed the family meal with news that she was dating. At times of stress, she always reached for her secateurs in a bid to keep a sense of control.

  ‘I know,’ she said, with her mobile phone propped between her shoulder and ear. Angelica paused to pinch another rose by the stem before snipping through it with the blades. ‘Titus isn’t happy at all about the situation. First she drops a grade in Spanish, and now this. A boyfriend.’

  As ever, Angelica Savage looked as immaculate as her surroundings. She was an elegant woman with fine features and a dark bob tapered at the neck. A smile, which was rare, would shatter her cut-glass air, though she could be thoroughly charming where necessary. As a dinner hostess, for example, she was much admired by friends and neighbours. Her dishes were always adventurous, but cooked to perfection and served with fine wine and easy conversation. Things were different if you chose to just drop round unannounced. Then, just for a fleeting moment, Angelica would summon a look so cold it left you feeling as if you had invaded her time and space.

  ‘I doubt very much this little love affair will last,’ she continued. ‘From what Sasha has told us he doesn’t sound as if the young man has much backbone. I should imagine it’ll be over before the next booking.’

  The moment her phone had begun to ring, Angelica knew that it would be the agency. She had set up a ring tone for that number so she could choose whether or not to answer. This depended on her mood as much as her credit card bill, which was why Angelica had reluctantly signed up some years before in a bid to pay it off. The agency specialised in hiring out domestic locations for commercial shoots. It wasn’t something she relished, but opening up the doors to their home every now and then kept her bank at bay.

  For all the wrong reasons, everyone remembers the advertisement for the furniture polish. It was running when the family dominated the news. Not that it’ll ever be aired again. Even so, despite the reason it was pulled, nobody can deny that the Savages had good taste. They lived on the hill overlooking the park and the city beyond, in an elegant Georgian house with tall sashed windows and a gravel drive. The place is boarded up now. It’s destined for demolition because no buyer can be found, and a far cry from how it used to be. Were you to pay a visit before the former owners made headlines, perhaps to guess what kind of family might live there, you’d be forgiven for thinking it had been professionally styled. Everything from the careful lighting to the antique wallpaper worked perfectly together. The large and airy living room was a highlight, while the equally splendid kitchen-diner suggested a household with a passion for good food. From the table in front of the French windows, you could look out across the garden, always heady with the scent of culinary herbs, and admire the colour and life. In particular, the roses were a treat. They always bloomed like no other, even out of season, which Angelica Savage modestly linked to the home-cooked compost she used to nourish the soil.

  ‘Very well,’ she told Marsha from the agency, the woman who had called to check the house was available that Friday. ‘Just be sure this time the client signs the breakage clause before filming begins.’

  Despite her tone, Angelica got on well with Marsha. She admired the agent’s steel grip on arrangements from start to finish. Angelica always chose not to be present during a shoot. She and any family members would take themselves upstairs for the duration and stay out of the way. It was an upheaval, but she knew they were in safe hands. By the time her husband returned from work, the crew would be gone and everything back in place as if nobody had been there at all. Even if redecoration was needed, the agency wouldn’t sign off the job until everything appeared as it had been found. Angelica couldn’t afford to let such standards slip because Titus loathed the whole arrangement. He could’ve paid off her debt straight away. That’s if he wasn’t married to such a fiercely independent woman. Just one more year, she had promised him the last time they clashed over the issue, and then the front door would be closed for good. As it turned out, Angelica was true to her word. It just wasn’t in a way that anyone could’ve believed at the time.

  With roses for the table grasped in one hand, Angelica headed back inside. Titus wouldn’t be pleased about the booking, but he needed to know. Every now and then a little extra housework was required before they allowed any strangers into the home. Having arranged the roses in a vase, Angelica rang her husband. Eventually, when the call went to voice message, she figured he was busy in a meeting.

  Titus Savage cursed silently when the phone in his pocket began to ring. He had meant to put it on mute, and simply forgotten. There wasn’t much he could do about it at the time. He was lying back with his hands clasped across his chest and his mouth wide open.

  ‘Do you want to answer that?’ asked the d
ental hygienist. At the same time she teased a sickle-shaped scaling instrument between his back molars, which made it impossible for Titus to reply. By the time she removed the scaler from his mouth, the hook impaled with a fine shred of meat, his mobile had stopped ringing. The hygienist appeared not to notice. Instead, she held the instrument under the lamp for inspection. Her mouth and nose were covered by a mask, but the gleam in her eyes made it clear she was elated by her catch. ‘You’re a red meat fan, Mr Savage, am I right?’

  Titus plucked a tissue from the box on the steel-topped trolley beside him.

  ‘I eat well,’ he said, dabbing at his mouth. ‘Better than most, in fact.’

  The hygienist wiped the scaler on the back of her glove. Titus eyed the shred, which had probably been there for no more than twenty-four hours, and wished he had flossed that morning. He had a meeting to attend in the next ten minutes, only now he risked having to endure a lecture.

  ‘Can I ask about your brushing routine, Mr Savage?

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, and balled the tissue in his fist. ‘I appreciate how important it is to do a thorough job.’

  Titus Savage enjoyed a formidable reputation in the City. The investment company he founded many years earlier sought to assist struggling businesses by restructuring them. It was only recently, following the investigation, that the true nature of the operation became clear. Back then, had anyone accused him of ‘predatory working practices’, chances are they would’ve been sued. Titus was a familiar figure in the Square Mile, with his bald dome, penetrating blue eyes and the signature silk scarf which he folded around his neck on leaving the dental surgery. He glanced at his watch next. Satisfied that he was still in time for his meeting, Titus began to walk briskly in the direction of the office, buttoning his coat as he went.

  It was a bright morning, but with so many towering buildings the sun rarely made it to ground level. Unusually, for a man of Russian stock, Titus always felt the chill. He sometimes joked that this was down to the fact he’d never visited the motherland. He certainly looked on the Slavic side, but had been born and raised in England. London was his home, and the city his stalking ground. Titus Savage knew every restaurant, coffee shop and cut-through, which at first explained why he ducked unexpectedly into a back street within yards of the office doors.