by Matt Whyman
Ivan toyed with his controller.
‘When Granny died,’ he said finally. ‘Did you?’
‘A little.’ Oleg nodded. ‘Your father was only small at the time, but we both did so in her honour.’
‘I was too young to remember my first mouthful,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t give it up now.’
‘Just be careful,’ warned his grandfather. ‘One careless kill could mark the end of a family tradition that I hope outlives us all.’
Of all the suppers her mother could’ve cooked, on what was Sasha’s first meat-free day, it had to be pork chops. She could smell them from her bedroom, even with the door shut. Compared to human flesh, this was the next best thing. Her father often reminded them that pigs share ninety-eight per cent of the human genetic make-up, which explained why her mouth was so moist. Still, with exams looming, Sasha had revision to get through. It was a struggle, however. Just thinking about those prime cuts crackling and popping in the griddle pan wasn’t only a distraction. In view of her oath, it was torture.
‘When will we be eating?’ she asked, having drifted downstairs to the kitchen.
Angelica was at the hob, with little Katya in the high chair at a safe distance from the spitting oil. The toddler looked delighted to see her big sister, and gurgled when Sasha crossed to pet her.
‘Any time soon,’ said Angelica, and flipped a chop with her spatula. ‘The mash is ready. So, as soon as the peas come to the boil.’
‘Do we have any nuts?’ asked Sasha. ‘Cashews, perhaps. Or almonds?’
Her mother turned, spatula in hand, as if to check she had heard her correctly. ‘Nuts. You want nuts to go with the chops?’
‘Actually, I was thinking instead of the chops.’
Angelica turned the gas ring down by a notch.
‘What’s wrong? Are you ill? Something you’ve eaten?’
‘I’m fine,’ Sasha insisted, and focused her attention on playing with Katya’s curly locks. ‘I just thought nuts would be good.’
Angelica looked at how uncomfortable her daughter appeared and knew that there was more to this.
‘Sasha,’ she said calmly. ‘Your father isn’t home from work yet. You can talk to me. If there’s anything on your mind, I’m here.’
‘I know that.’ Sasha offered her finger for Katya to chew on. At the same time, the pan of peas on the hob came to the boil. The water frothed over the sides, which drew Angelica’s attention for a moment. Once she’d dealt with it, she turned back to Sasha, who knew she’d have to offer her something.
‘It’s just for a short time,’ she said to begin. ‘Mum, don’t freak out on me or anything, but I’m skipping meat for a little while. It’s for Jack. He asked me. We made a pact.’
Sasha held her mother’s gaze for what felt like an age. It only came to an end when Katya bit down on her finger a little too hard.
‘Be careful,’ Angelica said to her youngest daughter, but kept her eyes pinned on Sasha. ‘Your father thinks she’s ready, you know? The last of her teeth are coming through. We’re thinking soon it’ll be time for a welcoming feast.’
Sasha knew full well what she meant. All of a sudden she felt like some kind of traitor to the family.
‘This isn’t a permanent arrangement. By the time Katya’s big day comes, everything will be back to normal.’
‘So, how long do you plan to keep this up?’ asked Angelica, returning her attention to the pan.
‘Four weeks.’
“Four what?’ Sasha’s answer brought her mother round full circle. ‘You’re seriously thinking of no meat for a month?’
‘It isn’t like a lifetime. Not really.’
‘But why? What does this prove? And what could it do to you? You’ll turn anaemic or something. It can’t be good for your concentration at school.’
‘My concentration is fine. School is fine. This isn’t me going off the rails or anything.’
‘But it isn’t making me comfortable,’ replied Angelica all the same. ‘What ideas has this boy put into your head?’
Sasha examined her finger, which was still stinging. Kat hadn’t drawn blood, but she could see her teeth marks.
‘This isn’t really about Jack,’ she said. ‘As soon as he laid down the challenge, I began to think it was something I’d genuinely like to try. Just to see if I can, and what difference it would make. Seriously, going veggie for a while isn’t a big deal.’
‘It will be to your father.’
‘Does he have to know?’
Angelica returned to the business of preparing supper. She reached for the plates and began to lay them out.
‘He just called to say he was on his way home from the tube station,’ she said. ‘By the sound of it, he’s had a difficult day.’
‘All the more reason not to say anything,’ said Sasha, watching her mother as she began to lay out a scoop of mashed potato on each plate, followed by a sprinkling of peas. ‘Please, Mum. If he finds out now he’ll just put a stop to it without giving me a chance to find out what it’s like to do something, well … different.’
Angelica didn’t reply. Instead, reaching for the spatula, she transferred a pork chop to every plate but one. Sasha smiled in relief, and skipped to the cupboard when Angelica told her that’s where she’d find some nuts.
‘But you’ll have to eat quickly,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he won’t ask questions if he knows you’re using the time to revise.’
Sasha was already seated at the table when Angelica placed the plate in front of her. She looked up to thank her mother, but Angelica’s taut mouth told Sasha enough had been said. Instead, she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat. Without the chop, it just tasted like something was missing, but that was not the point. She could do this, she told herself. However things worked out with Jack, he’d introduced her to something she felt compelled to try. Sasha ate without speaking, keen to be finished before her dad returned home. She fully expected to hear the front door open at any time, so when the bell rang it came as a surprise.
‘He’s probably forgotten his keys,’ muttered Angelica, and made her way to the hall.
It left Sasha to pick up the last of the nuts and shovel them into the pockets of her cheeks as fast as possible. She heard the door open, and crunched on them hurriedly. By the time her mother returned, there was nothing on her plate that would spark a stand-up row. Then again, the figure that followed her into the kitchen wasn’t her father.
‘From the gas,’ said the man with the ID necklace when Sasha looked up from the table. ‘Sorry to disturb. I’ll just take a reading and be gone.’
Vernon English wasn’t exactly a master of disguise. He had a whole bundle of fake identities to call upon. It’s just he looked the same whichever one he chose to wear: a little out of shape, with tangled, receding hair that was just begging to be hidden under his beloved cap. Arriving in the kitchen behind Angelica Savage, he tried hard not to show too much of an interest in his surroundings. The girl looked surprised to see him, but not suspicious, while the toddler in the high chair shrieked in delight and threw out her arms.
‘Hello, little one!’ Vernon reached out to ruffle her hair, only to remind himself that this might be deemed inappropriate behaviour for a representative of the power company. The last thing he needed was an official complaint, mostly because the ID around his neck was totally fake. ‘Cute kid,’ he said instead, and turned to find Angelica watching him with her arms folded.
‘The meter is over there,’ she said, and gestured at a cupboard in a recess beside the French windows.
‘As good as done,’ said Vernon, and got on with the task at hand.
Some months earlier, the private investigator had picked up a job lot of radio bugs on eBay. This was the first time he’d put one into use. Although highly illegal for the task he had in mind, in his opinion it was a fast track to nailing Titus Savage. Not just for his business dealings but his possible involvement in the death of Lulabelle Hart. The dev
ice was the size of a watch battery, and stuck snugly onto the side of the gas meter as he jotted down the numbers on a clipboard he’d brought with him. ‘That’s me done,’ he said, rising to his feet. He turned to address Angelica once more, only to find the man of the house at the kitchen door.
‘Something smells good,’ said Titus, as Vernon suddenly pretended to look busy with his clipboard. ‘What’s for supper?’
‘It’s served and ready to go,’ said Angelica, before raising one eyebrow at the man in the corner.
‘Oh, don’t let me stop you.’ Vernon kept his head down on making his way to the door. Sometimes making face to face contact with his target was unavoidable, but it couldn’t happen more than once. Not without attracting suspicion. ‘Bon appetit!’
As he left, both Titus and Angelica exchanged a puzzled look.
‘Since when did the gas man ever sound so cheery?’ he asked.
‘The guy seemed a bit too interested in little Kat,’ said Sasha, who by now had cleared her plate. ‘Most probably a paedo.’
Titus turned to peer into the hall. By then, the man was gone. He faced back at the three girls in his life, and dismissed their concerns with a chuckle.
‘So the gas man is a nice guy. That doesn’t make him dodgy. Though I have to say it seems like only yesterday that I paid the last bill.’ Titus sighed, and then smiled fondly at the little one straining to escape from her high chair so that she could reach her father. Carefully, he lifted her out and held her up. ‘And how are you, my little beauty!’
‘Never better,’ said Angelica, and began to bring the plates across to the table. ‘She bit Sasha’s finger just now. Almost drew blood.’
‘Did she?’ Titus looked around, still holding the little girl aloft, and then brought her down for a cuddle. ‘Then, you know what this means?’
‘I do indeed,’ said Angelica.
‘Who would have thought?’ said Titus. ‘The last of my children is set to join us in the family way.’
‘It’s quite an achievement,’ Angelica agreed, as Sasha took her empty plate to the dishwasher. ‘Have you had enough to eat?’ she asked her.
‘I’m good thanks.’ Sasha headed for the door, and willed herself not to look at the plates on the table. No matter how she tried to sell it to herself, mash, peas and nuts just didn’t feel like a complete meal. ‘I’ll be in my room,’ she said, and glanced at her mother. ‘Got to revise this month.’
‘Can you tell Grandpa that I’ll blend his supper as soon as it’s cooled. And send Ivan down now. You know how those two like their pork. There’s even extra in the pan.’
Sasha reminded herself not to react. Despite the dig from her mother, there was no way that her dad could find out about her pledge. Heading out of the kitchen, she caught his eye, and saw only pride in his expression.
‘I admire your commitment,’ said Titus, and jiggled his youngest daughter in his arms. ‘It’s a shame you won’t be eating with us, but all the more reason to look forward to a feast. One that none of us will ever forget!’
15
Angelica had never imagined that she would marry a man like Titus. As a young woman, she was fiercely independent, while Titus was clearly looking to settle down and start a family. What seduced Angelica was his sense of chivalry and sensitivity towards her. Looking back, it could be said that Titus waited for her to fall in love with him, before striking with his secret. By then, it was too late. Angelica was smitten. She would do anything for him, knowing that he would do likewise for her.
‘We are what we eat,’ he once told her. ‘That makes you and me so very special as a couple.’
With a baby on the way, while Titus forged his career in the city, Angelica quickly found her feet as a homemaker. She surprised herself at how much pride she took in making things look as perfect as possible. The house was run down when they bought it, which presented Angelica with a much-needed challenge.
Back then, the renovation, decoration and furnishing of each room served as a means for her to forget about the one aspect of their lives that should’ve disgusted her. Having found a way to cope with the horror, Angelica even discovered that she enjoyed the preparation and consumption of human flesh, as well as all the cuts that your average cannibal might discard. It was a waste, they both agreed, and a lost opportunity. Through their eyes, the carcass of a once healthy human being was a banquet waiting to happen. Drawing upon the skills handed down to Titus by his father, she learned to extract the thymus gland from the chest cavity, just below the neck. Raw, it was just a spongy lump. Soaked in vinegar and then flash fried, it became the most glorious of sweetmeats, and the perfect appetiser before the serious business of eating began. And unlike any other food she had tasted in her life, Angelica found that often it was perfectly possible to finish off an entire body between two. At times, in fact, the feasting could transform into a frenzy. It would begin soon after the starters, with the central dishes stuffed away at an unnatural rate, before things finally slowed with dessert, when a profound sense of peace and satisfaction set in.
‘It’s like a drug,’ Titus once explained. ‘If everyone knew that feasting on human flesh sent such signals to the brain, we would eat ourselves out of existence!’
It took a decade of married life for Angelica to come to terms with what she had become. In that time, she tried to reason with herself that it wasn’t something they did frequently. It was Titus who decided when the time felt right, and that amounted to no more than half a dozen times a year. They weren’t like addicts or anything. Everything was under control.
Everything, that was, except for Angelica’s other consumer habit. At times of self-loathing, she would hit the high street with her credit card. As well as her passion for fashion, she continued to style and dress the house. In her mind, the creation of the perfect family living environment helped to hide the truth about what really bonded them. As for concealing her debts, the situation was fine until the credit crunch. With interest rates rising, Angelica could no longer afford the repayments from the joint account without arousing the suspicions of her husband. It left her with no choice. Following a showdown with Titus, whose offer to write off the debt she refused, Angelica proposed a repayment plan that left him speechless.
‘It’s time the house paid for itself,’ she had told him. ‘I’ve already spoken to an agency.’
‘But this isn’t just any house,’ Titus had reminded her. ‘It’s the one place where we can be ourselves. The only time we invite strangers inside, they never leave.’
‘I need to do this,’ Angelica had insisted.
‘But what if someone finds evidence?’
‘They won’t,’ she had said, and patted his stomach fondly. ‘As you well know, my love.’
Now three years into the arrangement, the Savages had become used to occasionally having large numbers of media people occupy the ground floor. Angelica was happy, having taken responsibility for her spending, while the kids took great delight in spotting their home on billboards and in magazines. As much as he grumbled, she knew that even Titus had come to accept it. Angelica even suspected he got a kick out of the fact that the house was on show to the public, and yet in private hosted scenes that could attract attention for all the wrong reasons. She figured it gave him a sense of control, as it did for her. The incident with the model was regrettable, but Marsha from the agency had assured her that business would come back to the house in time. Angelica hadn’t liked the sound of this one bit. Her credit card debt repayment depended on the income it brought her. Then again, she couldn’t risk kicking up a fuss because that would just be heartless. A suicide is a tragedy at any time, Marsha had reminded Angelica over the phone later that week. There was nothing anyone could’ve done. Apart from not stringing up a booby trap in our bathroom, Angelica had thought, but kept it to herself. Instead, all she could do was go into denial about the financial implications. She’d done it for years, after all. As for Ivan, he was doing his best to atone for his
mistake. He hadn’t attempted a single joke that silenced the family, and was spending a great deal of time with his grandfather. It was good to see. He could learn a lot from Oleg, she decided, while Titus had talked of giving his son the chance to prepare the next feast. Combined with what he’d learned from the accident in the bathroom, Angelica hoped that Ivan would come out of this a stronger and more rounded young man. It made the debt issue just that little bit more bearable for her.
As for Sasha, this foolish adventure with fruit and vegetables that Jack had encouraged her to undertake couldn’t end soon enough. It had put Angelica in an awkward position. Keeping it a secret from Titus wasn’t something she found easy. Then again, she couldn’t afford for him to find out. Not now they were due to meet Sasha’s boyfriend for themselves. It was bad enough that he was a vegetarian. If Titus knew that he had invited their eldest daughter to cross over, even for a week let alone a month, he would skin the boy alive.
Based on what he had heard since planting the bug, Vernon English was sure of one thing: food was important to the Savages.
Parked down the road, within range of the device, he had sat and listened in to all kind of conversations about cooking. Angelica was in charge of the kitchen, so it seemed, but everyone showed an interest in whatever was on the hob, under the grill or in the oven. A feast was planned, he had learned, which was an unusual term for anyone to be using in this day and age. Still, it was hardly evidence that Titus was involved in the death of Lulabelle Hart.
After several days trailing the man home from work and then plugging in his earpiece, Vernon was beginning to think that Titus Savage’s worst crime was a weak spot for pickled walnuts straight from the jar. The joke about each one looking like a shrunken brain wasn’t funny the first time he had heard it, and yet Titus continued to trot it out. Vernon recorded everything, unaware that it would one day be released to a public hungry for an insight into the family. Just then, the private investigator was half listening to a chat between Angelica and her daughter, Sasha. The pair were preparing tea and cupcakes or some such, he wasn’t sure what. Still, he knew it was worth keeping the channel open because Titus was also in the house. To keep himself occupied, and break the boredom, Vernon was munching on a packet of sea salt and malt vinegar flavoured crisps. Having missed what could’ve been a vital lead, all for the sake of a bucket of chicken nuggets, he wasn’t going to let himself go hungry on the job again. Vernon balled the empty packet in one hand and tossed it into the passenger floor well. It landed in among all the other discarded packets, not just for crisps but biscuits and sweets. He eyed them for a moment, wishing he had the willpower to pick up some raisins or bananas instead of the snacks.