The Savages

by Matt Whyman

  ‘You should watch what you eat,’ he told himself, and looked down at his waistline. As a younger man, he’d have described himself as whippet thin. He hadn’t grown fat as such. It’s just his gut looked more like a loaf of bread that had failed to rise properly in the oven. He put this down to years of cooking for one after the divorce, which had involved a lot of ready meals. ‘We’ll bring something next time,’ he added, as if to reassure his stomach that he hadn’t given up on getting the washboard back.

  Vernon surfaced from what was frankly a pipe dream by the sound of a car passing, and then pulling up outside the Savage residence. He sat up in his seat, reaching for his notebook at the same time so that he could take down the registration plate. The young man who climbed out of the driver’s side looked strikingly confident to Vernon. He was one of those youths who dressed smartly to counter a carefully waxed and sculpted mop of hair. It was meant to look wind-blown, as if the guy had been brooding on a craggy tor. Vernon disliked him straight away, whoever he turned out to be.

  Sasha had worked hard in the kitchen to prepare for Jack’s visit. She’d managed to persuade her parents that a supper was just too much. It risked idle chat turning into an investigation. Asking Jack to drop round for a cup of tea, before they headed off for an evening out, was surely more than enough to satisfy their curiosity.

  ‘We’re only being responsible parents,’ Angelica had said, when she found Sasha decorating a batch of cupcakes fresh from the oven.

  ‘I know that,’ said Sasha. ‘It’s the opportunity to embarrass me that I could really do without.’

  ‘Would I do that?’

  ‘It isn’t you I’m worried about.’

  Angelica didn’t need to ask if she was referring to her father.

  ‘These look lovely,’ she said after a moment, and inspected the cakes a little closer. It was clear that Sasha had gone to great lengths here, but when she picked one up it left a lot of crumbs behind. Angelica didn’t like to criticise, but took a moment too long to reach for a compliment. ‘I’m sure Jack will appreciate the effort you’ve made,’ she said eventually.

  Sasha finished by sprinkling a pinch of especially-sourced hundreds and thousands over her creations, and figured her mother might as well know.

  ‘It’s a vegan recipe,’ she told her. ‘No eggs or butter.’

  All of a sudden, Sasha felt her mother’s gaze turn upon her.

  ‘Jack is a vegetarian, no? Eggs and butter won’t kill him.’

  ‘He’s thinking of cutting out dairy. I just thought this would give him a taste of what’s in store. I used soya milk and vegetable oil as a substitute, but I’m sure they’ll taste OK.’

  Angelica struggled not to pull a face.

  ‘Listen to you,’ she said. ‘You’re a Savage, Sasha. Savages don’t go vegetarian, let alone vegan. Exactly what is it about this boy that’s turned your head?’

  Sasha took the cupcakes across to the table, where she’d already laid out plates, cups and saucers.

  ‘This isn’t about Jack,’ she said, without making eye contact with her mother. ‘He’s just switched me onto the possibilities when it comes to food.’

  ‘Well, you can eat well and get on with your life,’ muttered Angelica, ‘or you can put your figure before your happiness.’

  ‘Mum, I promise you this isn’t about how I look.’ Sasha turned to face her. ‘It’s about how I feel on the inside.’

  Angelica was taken aback by her daughter’s force of opinion. Facing her, she looked directly into her eyes and didn’t let up as she appealed to her.

  ‘Please don’t go vegan. It would be a step to far for your father and me.’

  ‘And for me,’ said Sasha, smiling now. ‘I was just keen to see how they turned out. It’s good to experiment with food!’

  ‘At last, we agree on something,’ said Angelica, and some warmth came into her expression. ‘Just don’t tell your father what’s in them.’

  ‘You mean what’s not in them,’ said Sasha.

  It was an exchange that served to further soften the mood between them. For the next few minutes, Sasha and Angelica worked together to clear the kitchen. By the time Ivan joined them, everything was ready for Jack’s arrival.

  ‘Mmm, cakes!’ the boy declared, and grabbed one from the plate. He moved so quickly that it didn’t disintegrate until it had reached his mouth.

  ‘Leave that!’ snapped Sasha, but it was too late. ‘Mum, tell him!’

  Angelica was used to intervening in squabbles between the pair. On this occasion, watching Ivan’s gleeful expression begin to pinch into distaste, she figured he had just learned not to take food without asking.

  ‘Eww,’ he said, having struggled to swallow it down. ‘Can I get a drink of water? What’s in this?’

  ‘Serves you right,’ grumbled Sasha, and set about rearranging the plate of cupcakes.

  ‘We have a visitor,’ Angelica said, as Ivan hurried to the tap. ‘He’s picky about what he eats.’

  Having filled a cup and taken a swig, Ivan switched his gaze to Sasha.

  ‘The vegetarian is coming here now?’

  ‘Will everyone stop calling him that?’ demanded Sasha. ‘His name is Jack.’

  A trace of a smile crossed Ivan’s face.

  ‘I hope he likes cupcakes,’ the boy said, as Titus could be heard making his way down the stairs. ‘Especially ones that taste like chalk.’

  ‘No stirring,’ warned Angelica, pointing a finger at him, which she then dropped when her husband strode into the kitchen. He was clutching a sheaf of papers, and seemed very pleased with himself.

  ‘Tomorrow is going to be a good day,’ declared Titus. ‘It looks like the deal is about to be done.’

  ‘The company takeover?’ asked Angelica, trying to sound interested.

  ‘According to my sources they’ve run out of options,’ he said, and clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘Nobody escapes from the Savages.’

  ‘Dad,’ said Sasha, having checked her mobile phone. ‘Jack has just texted me. He’s outside. You will be nice to him, won’t you? Promise me you won’t tell stories about me when I was younger, or bring up the subject of … meat.’

  Titus smiled, but said nothing in reply as the sound of the doorbell rang through the house.

  16

  Jack Greenway had expected Sasha to greet him at the door, not the whole family. It was why he had dropped her a line, hoping she would answer alone so he could make a low-key entry. Instead, even her grandfather could be seen at the top of the stairs, peering down in his dressing gown.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sasha, grimacing. ‘He probably doesn’t realise it’s untied.’

  ‘Now is not the time for apologies,’ said Titus, extending his hand from behind his daughter. ‘It’s great to put a face to the name.’

  ‘Likewise,’ said Jack, and did his best to match the strength of the handshake. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘This is my wife, Angelica.’

  ‘Mrs Savage,’ said Jack, noting that her handshake was in complete contrast. It felt like he had just clasped a dead fish in his palm.

  ‘That’s my father upstairs,’ said Titus, before pushing his young son forward. ‘And here is Ivan.’

  For a second, Jack’s smile faltered. Ivan, however, grinned at the sixth former who had tried to humiliate him earlier in the week.

  ‘So, this is your boyfriend?’ he said to Sasha. ‘You should invite him inside.’

  ‘Well, I would,’ said Sasha. ‘If everyone can stop being so nice and give him some space.’

  ‘Take Jack into the kitchen,’ said Titus, who continued to sound unnervingly welcoming. Angelica hadn’t seen him smiling this much since preparations for the last feast. She put this down to the business deal, and hoped that he and Jack would at least get along at some level.

  Before the front door closed, Vernon English had already identified the Savages’ visitor. A call to an ex-colleague on the police force, which he paid fo
r in pints of beer and a kebab whenever they met for a social, allowed him to trade the vehicle registration plate for a name and address. Vernon was surprised the car belonged to the kid. Jack Olivier Greenway was in his late teens, perhaps, but the motor was one of those sophisticated types that didn’t choke up the environment.

  ‘Spoiled by his parents, no doubt,’ he said down the line, before closing the call to his man on the inside.

  Placing his mobile on the dashboard, Vernon turned up the volume on the bug receiver. By rights, having heard Titus boast of his takeover plans, he should’ve called the company straight away. Vernon had photographic evidence of all the secret meetings Titus had conducted with their mole. That money had changed hands in exchange for inside information was a breach of all manner of regulations. It could easily cause trouble for Titus, but Vernon had his sights on nailing the man for a far more serious crime. The longer he spent tailing the head of the Savage household, and learning about his life, the more convinced he became about his involvement in the death of Lulabelle Hart. The police might not have treated her demise as suspicious, but Vernon had carried out his own investigation. He had travelled to the coast and spoken to staff at the train station and the bus company. Lulabelle didn’t drive, and yet when he produced a photograph of the woman nobody had any recollection of seeing her on the night in question. It didn’t prove anything, of course, but it raised Vernon’s suspicions no end. Unless the model travelled by taxi, at great expense, then her only other likely means of transport involved being zipped inside a holdall in the boot of the Savages’ 4x4.

  ‘Come on, Titus,’ he said to himself. ‘Spill the beans to your friend, Vernon.’

  Tweaking the transmitter dial to improve the reception, Vernon settled back in his seat and listened closely as the Savages welcomed their guest into the kitchen. He doubted very much that he would hear a full and frank confession. What interested him just then was how uptight the daughter had sounded about the way Titus might react to her boyfriend. Worrying that your dad might embarrass you was standard issue in households up and down the land. From what Vernon had picked up, however, Sasha made it sound like the man could spring a horrible surprise.

  ‘So, tell us,’ said Titus as he crossed the kitchen for the kettle, ‘what is that car of yours like to drive?’

  ‘A dream,’ said Jack, and plunged his hands inside his pockets. ‘It’s fuel efficient with low carbon emissions.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ said Titus, nodding his approval. ‘But what I mean is can you get it out of the slow lane on the motorway without the battery running flat?’

  Sasha, who was standing close to Jack as if to shield him from bullets, felt herself dying on the inside.

  ‘The battery takes its charge from the engine,’ she told her father. ‘Even I know that. The technology has moved on massively.’

  ‘Like the times,’ Jack muttered under his breath, and flashed a grin at Sasha.

  Titus had his back turned to the boy, filling the kettle with water, but he heard the comment clearly. It was amusing. The kid had quick wits. He didn’t like him one bit. If anything, thought Titus, Jack was asking to be tested.

  ‘I hope you like cupcakes,’ said Angelica, who had just popped upstairs to collect Katya from her crib. ‘Sasha made them herself.’

  ‘I used a special recipe,’ said Sasha.

  ‘Cool.’ Jack selected one from the plate. ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘Mince!’ cried Kat, just as Jack prepared to take a bite.

  ‘Ignore her,’ Angelica assured him. ‘It’s her only word.’

  ‘Mince!’

  Jack looked from the toddler to Sasha and then to the cupcake. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘That’s unusual.’

  ‘The cupcake is vegan,’ said Sasha, under the sound of the kettle coming to the boil. ‘Try it.’

  Jack inspected the cake one more time, aware that Ivan was watching him intently. Titus, meanwhile, was staring at the plate as if he couldn’t quite believe what was on offer here. Angelica shot him a look, reminding him to be on his best behaviour.

  ‘It smells good.’ Jack held his palm underneath the cupcake as it began to disintegrate, and quickly grabbed a nibble. ‘And it tastes … magnificent! Isn’t anyone else going to try one?’

  ‘Count me in,’ said Angelica, who was keen to support her daughter. Setting Katya on the floor, she took a plate and helped herself. ‘How about you, Ivan?’

  The boy shook his head and looked to his father. Titus turned his attention to the table.

  ‘Anything my daughter has made is good enough for me,’ he said, with a hint of a sigh.

  Sasha watched her parents eating, and braced herself for the worst. Both of them were clearly struggling, but putting on polite faces for the sake of their visitor. Titus was the first to swallow, just as the kettle boiled.

  ‘Tea,’ he croaked. ‘I think we need a cup of tea.’

  ‘Do you have any herbal?’ Jack turned to Sasha. ‘I don’t do caffeine.’

  Sasha’s face fell. It was something she just hadn’t considered.

  ‘Actually, we do,’ said Angelica, much to the surprise of her husband. ‘I thought you may prefer an alternative, so I bought some camomile this morning. It’s in the cupboard above the kettle.’

  ‘I can get that,’ offered Ivan, as Titus simply stood and stared at his wife.

  Sasha caught her eye and mouthed a ‘thank you’.

  It was too good an opportunity for the boy to resist. Despite the incident in the bathroom, Ivan Savage had just one more practical joke to play. It wasn’t planned. This was a spur of the moment idea, driven less by a need to amuse and more by a chance to get even.

  As his parents found their way into a conversation with Jack, asking him about the sixth form compared to the rest of the school, Ivan dropped three normal tea bags into the pot, filled it with water from the kettle, and then sought out the box his mother had bought. He found it straight away, covered in floral designs. Extracting a bag as if it was something that had accidently been dropped into the loo, he set about preparing Jack’s cup of herbal tea. Then, glancing over his shoulder to be sure nobody was watching, he reached up into the cupboard once again.

  The chicken stock cubes were kept on the shelf above the tea bags. Ivan had no intention of dissolving a whole one in the camomile. He didn’t want to make it undrinkable, just different. With this in mind, he crumbled off a corner into the cup, followed by another corner for good measure. The water darkened straight away, but remained translucent. Leaving the camomile bag to infuse in the stock a little longer, Ivan transferred the teapot to the table, where his father was clearly itching to take Jack to task about his dietary habits.

  ‘Have you had supper?’ he enquired. ‘I’m just wondering whether a young man like you will need a snack to see you through the evening. I imagine you need to be careful about things like that.’

  Jack looked a little confused.

  ‘I’m not sure I follow you, Mr Savage.’

  ‘Your blood sugar levels,’ he said simply. ‘It’s a concern, no?’

  ‘Dad.’ Sasha glared at her father. ‘Jack’s is in great shape. We’ll be sure to eat, OK?’

  Aware that his wife was also frowning at him, Titus shrugged and carefully turned what was left of his cupcake in one hand. Everything from the bland taste to the dry texture had made him want to spit it out, but that would’ve just been rude. Instead, he poured the tea for everyone, while Ivan returned to the table and set the cup of camomile before their guest.

  ‘Lovely,’ said Jack, and inhaled the steam. ‘You can just smell how therapeutic this tea can be.’

  Despite sitting across the table from him, Titus’s keen sense of smell immediately picked up on the fact that it contained poultry of some form. He glanced at Ivan, who was standing behind Jack looking very pleased with himself. Needling Sasha’s boyfriend about his beliefs was one thing, thought Titus, but this was just disrespectful. Even so, there was not
hing he could do when Jack picked up the cup with both hands and took a tentative sip. He seemed to hold it on his tongue for a moment, before closing his eyes and tipping his head back by a degree.

  ‘Just what I needed!’ he said. ‘Do you know what? I haven’t tasted tea this good in a decade.’

  Titus leaned forward on his elbows.

  ‘So, when did you become a vegetarian?’

  ‘Oh, ten years ago,’ Jack told him, cradling the cup with his palms. ‘It was the only way forward for me. I just couldn’t live with the thought that another living thing had to perish in my name,’ he explained, before taking another long sip of the herbal broth. ‘People say it doesn’t taste as good, but that’s a small sacrifice.’

  ‘What about fruit and vegetables?’ asked Titus. ‘They have feelings.’

  ‘Not again, Dad.’

  ‘Science is leaning that way,’ he insisted, wishing his daughter would just let him have this moment. ‘Look at the Venus Fly Trap. How do you think it knows when prey has landed in its clutches? And you might not be able to hear a banana scream, but that’s what happens when you peel one. You’re literally stripping the skin from its body. How can that be humane? It’s torture!’