The Savages

12

Ivan Savage had one big regret about the death of the model. Brooding in his bedroom several days later, he wished that he had rigged up a video camera alongside the iron that killed her. Yes, it had hit the wrong target, and he never meant to kill anyone, but surely his father would calm down if he saw what an effective job his son had made of the execution?

‘Upstairs is out of bounds,’ he grumbled to himself, while combing his hair in the mirror. ‘If you come upstairs, you don’t go down again.’

What really hurt, though, the thing that really cut and stung, was his father’s reaction. Even before he spelled out his disappointment in the boy, Ivan had seen it in his eyes. There was no hint of pride at a clean and imaginative kill. It was all ‘you foolish this’ and ‘stupid that’. He had never felt so small and insignificant in his life. Nor as misunderstood. Yes, his father had cooled down on his return from the drop off, but it was hard for the boy to simply brush off that kind of criticism.

All Ivan ever wanted was some recognition for his efforts. And yet where had his pranks got him? Psychiatric assessment with some picture cards of kids crying. Nobody laughed at his efforts. Not once had he been clapped on the back or talked about admiringly, and now this. A clean kill and yet all he’d earned for it was criticism.

There was only one person he blamed for the situation. Sasha’s boyfriend, Jack. Why? Because if he hadn’t cooked for Sasha that evening, and lured her from home, then she would’ve been on the receiving end of the iron, not Lulabelle. Of course, Ivan would’ve found himself in even more trouble had he slaughtered his sister, which came as some comfort. Nevertheless, he held the vegetarian accountable for the fact that he felt so worthless just then. It also left him all the more determined to prove himself to his dad.

The first thing to enter Ivan’s head left him staring at his reflection in the mirror. After a moment, he blinked and dismissed the idea out of hand. Depriving Sasha of a boyfriend wasn’t exactly going to help him regain some standing in the family. Jack’s fate lay in her hands, not his, he decided, before leaving all such thoughts behind to answer the front door.

Before the bell summoned Sasha from her room, she had been lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Only one thing occupied her thoughts: just where things were heading with Jack.

In her mind, she had put together a list of all his good points and his bad points. On the upside, he was smoulderingly handsome and passionate about food. He drove his own car, made her packed lunches and had set a challenge which Sasha found herself determined to take on. She wasn’t really doing it for him though, as she had come to realise. Instead, the prospect of turning her back on meat for a month felt like a chance for her to strike out as a Savage in her own right. She was close to her family, and had her parents to thank for that. Even so, going vegetarian felt like a shot at independence that she couldn’t refuse.

Then Sasha had begun to compile Jack’s bad points. It wasn’t a big list, just a problem.

‘What am I dating here?’ she’d asked herself at one point. ‘And why is he dating me?’

When Jack first sprung into her life, it had been a surprise to Sasha and also a relief. Unlike Faria and Maisy, she’d never been able to say that she had a boyfriend. OK, so Faria had come home smitten from a summer holiday the year before, and then tortured herself for two months over Skype with flaky Fernando from Barcelona. Maisy had gone out with some lad who was genuine about her. The trouble with poor Daniel ‘Daisy’ Duke was his age. He was only a year younger than Maisy, but that was the equivalent of about a decade in school terms. Three weeks on, despite valiantly ignoring all the cougar comments, and the rhymes about ‘Maisy ’n’ Daisy’, poor Daniel’s fate was sealed when he showed up for a trip to the cinema in shorts, socks and Crocs. Still, at least both girls could claim some experience with relationships. So, when the hottest boy from the sixth form turned his attention to Sasha, and showed no sign of stuttering and blushing when he spoke, she really did feel as if her time had come.

In the beginning, Jack had been all over her. It had been flattering and a thrill, but as the weeks passed she wondered if he was as passionate about her as a person. Take the supper he had cooked. She couldn’t fault the effort he had made. She’d even had a good time afterwards, just making out on the sofa with a movie on pay per view. What troubled her was the fact that he hadn’t shown nearly the same interest in her mind. Everything they covered seemed to return to the same subject, which was Jack. He had talked in great detail about ethical eating, but didn’t once invite Sasha to contribute her own opinions. Of course, she had no intention of sharing how her family justified their chosen path through this topic. The point was he never asked.

Reflecting on this now, Sasha found herself coming to the realisation that Jack’s personality didn’t quite live up to his good looks. In some ways, she reminded him of a fast food burger. He looked delicious, but the content just failed to match the promise. Still, thought Sasha to herself, she was prepared to give Jack a chance. It wasn’t as if she had much experience in these matters, after all. In a way, she decided, it was a shame she couldn’t be more shallow. That’s what Faria and Maisy would advise her. For despite the lack of substance, there was no denying that the boy was a babe.

The weirdest thing about that evening had been the way her dad reacted. Having got home late, looking like she’d dragged herself backwards through the hedge to get there, Sasha found him with his arms wide open. He hadn’t pressed her for an explanation, and there was no mention of being grounded. If anything, he had seemed overjoyed at the simple fact that she was safely back at home, and equally keen to meet Jack.

‘I’m missing something,’ she decided, and sat up to place her head in her hands. ‘Something bad.’

Sasha sat quite still for a moment, reflecting on things at home and in her love life, and that was when the doorbell sounded.

Angelica Savage was in the garden at that moment. Katya was sitting on a rug on the lawn. She played happily with daisies while her mother worked her way around the roses, deadheading every bloom that showed the first sign of decay. As a result, the garden looked like a patch of paradise. A world away from the reality surrounding them.

‘Who is that?’ she asked, on hearing the doorbell, and made sure to place the secateurs out of reach from her youngest daughter.

It was only as she made her way back into the house that she heard Ivan and then Sasha descending the stairs, bickering as they went.

‘It won’t be for you,’ said Sasha, who was keen to get there first. ‘Nobody has called to see you since the community midwife after you were born.’

‘Then let’s hope it’s for you,’ Ivan replied, several steps ahead of her. ‘It might even be Jack!’

Through the front door’s frosted glass pane, Angelica recognised the visitors immediately. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop Ivan and caution him to be careful before he opened up. She stopped, midway along the hall, and quickly checked her composure.

‘Hello, kids,’ said one of the two police officers. ‘I’m sure you know why we’re here.’

Angelica watched Sasha turn and look at her. She responded by not blinking, silently imploring her daughter to just stay calm while she handled this. Aware that the officers were awaiting an answer, she then pressed her lips together and nodded.

‘The agency called me with the sad news,’ said Angelica. ‘That poor soul. Had any of us known there was a woman in despair downstairs during the shoot, we would’ve done everything to talk her out of the fate she chose for herself.’

She saw Sasha glance at her brother now, seeking some explanation still, while Ivan just stared at his shoes.

‘May we come in?’ asked the other officer, a policewoman who was notably taller than her male colleague.

‘Yes, of course.’ Angelica gestured for her children to stand aside, her heart rate starting to stir. ‘Would you like some tea? Coffee? Juice… water?

The male officer responded by pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

‘When was the last time you saw Lulabelle Hart?’ he asked, and clicked the top of his ballpoint pen. ‘It’s important that we piece together her final hours before the suicide.’

Angelica noted how Sasha closed her eyes in resignation at this. Her daughter needed no further explanation. That much was clear to her. Fortunately, both officers were waiting for Angelica to answer and didn’t catch the look on Sasha’s face. Even to an outsider, it betrayed the fact that she knew full well that her family would be involved.

‘I’m afraid we didn’t see Ms Hart at all,’ Angelica told the officers. ‘During a shoot we take ourselves upstairs and that’s where we stay, don’t we, kids?’

Both Sasha and Ivan nodded dutifully when the officer turned briefly in their direction.

‘This is just routine,’ said the female officer, as if mindful that their presence in this matter might upset the two minors. ‘For the report.’

‘Did you hear anything untoward downstairs?’ asked her colleague, addressing Sasha and Ivan this time.

‘Nothing.’ Ivan didn’t even blink.

‘It was just another shoot,’ echoed Sasha after a moment and then caught her mother’s eye. ‘We never laid eyes on her.’

The male officer closed his notebook, having written down what looked like their home address, and nothing more.

‘Well, we’re grateful for your time,’ he said, before drawing Angelica’s attention. ‘You understand we have to go through the motions,’ he said to her quietly. ‘Even with a clear-cut suicide.’

‘Of course,’ said Angelica, well aware that Sasha had just heard every word. ‘If there’s anything more we can do, you only have to ask.’

Sasha held the door open for the officers, smiling sweetly. It was only once they’d left the house that she turned and ushered her mother and brother into the kitchen.

‘Was it Beachy Head?’ she asked, straining not to shout in case the police were still outside. ‘That’s where Dad goes if the kill isn’t fit for the table.’

‘Honey,’ said Angelica, but Sasha hadn’t finished.

‘I can’t believe you’d pick off someone working on a shoot downstairs. That takes fast food to a whole new level! When have we ever taken such a risk?’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Angelica tried to reason. ‘Lulabelle was an accident.’

‘Is this why Dad was in such a strange mood when I came home? I fully expected to be grounded for being late. Instead, he hugs me like I’ve been missing for months.’

‘It’s just made him aware how precious his family is to him.’ Angelica gripped her daughter by the shoulders in a bid to calm her down. ‘This wasn’t about a feast. It was just a prank that went wrong.’

‘A prank.’ Without hesitating, Sasha swung around to face Ivan. ‘So, you killed her.’

‘Not on purpose,’ he said, shrugging at the same time. ‘It was meant for you.’

‘Oh, great!’ Sasha rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Angelica. ‘You know, since meeting Jack I’ve begun to feel like a normal, average teenager. It’s a first for me and I like it. Now, Jack certainly isn’t perfect, but he does manage to resist an urge to murder for the lols!’

‘Now that’s enough!’ Angelica pulled back and glared at her daughter. ‘As a family, we stick together. What happened was unfortunate, but your father has dealt with it. As a result of his efforts, there’s no evidence in this house that could link us to the death of Lulabelle Hart. So relax, Sasha. As far as you and Ivan are concerned, you can continue with your lives as normal.’

‘But, Mum,’ said Sasha. ‘We eat people. That’s not normal.’

‘Tastes good, though,’ Ivan pointed out, only to shrink from his mother’s attention.

Angelica let a moment pass before beginning again.

‘One single aspect of our lives is… different, and that difference is down to your dad. He’s just trying to give you the best start in life, as it was for him as a boy. Everything else marks us out as a typical family, and if we’re going to get through this without attracting attention then it’s vital that we all carry on just being ourselves.’

‘With the exception of Ivan,’ Sasha pointed out. ‘He’s out of control, Mum.’

‘Well, yes, your brother really ought to call a halt to the body count,’ agreed Angelica, ‘and then we all just need to move on. In fact, now would be a great time for your father to meet Jack.’

‘Please don’t bring him into this,’ said Sasha. ‘It won’t end well.’

‘It’s perfect,’ she insisted. ‘An everyday kind of event that happens in households with nothing to hide.’

‘Mum.’

‘You know he genuinely wants to meet this boy now,’ Angelica continued. ‘Inviting Jack just shows your father is keen to bring him into the fold.’

‘Better in than out, eh?’ said Ivan, who seemed very pleased not to be the centre of his mother’s attention now.

Sasha’s eyes opened wide before she blinked.

‘But he’s vegetarian,’ she said, and seemed prepared to spell it out for her if necessary.

‘We all have our faults,’ said Angelica, who had anticipated her eldest leaping to the wrong conclusion, ‘which is one more reason why your dad is keen to find out what you see in him.’

13

As a private investigator, Vernon English mostly picked up a newspaper to hide behind. Reading them didn’t interest him much. He liked the TV at the end of a long day, and maybe some talk radio on long stake-outs in the van. On this occasion, sitting at the window of a café that smelled of bacon and bleach, he found himself paying more attention to a small article on the page he’d opened at random than to the figure in the steak house across the street.

‘Lulabelle Hart,’ he said to himself, on reading of her demise, and then set the paper down for a clear view of the man he was here to observe. ‘I wonder what tipped her over the edge?’

Vernon was well aware that the model’s last assignment had been at the Savage house. He had retrieved a copy of the call sheet from the bin outside. According to the report in the paper, her behaviour that day had been described by some crew members as ‘tense’ and then ‘erratic’. Sadly, nobody present on the shoot had realised quite what turmoil the poor soul was in. According to the police and a source from the coroner’s office, this was just a tragic event. Ms Hart’s death was not being treated as suspicious.

Having read the article twice, Vernon tightened his gaze on the diner opposite. Titus Savage was just finishing a business lunch. His companion, the mole from the company Titus planned to take over, was doing a lot of talking. This came as no surprise to Vernon, given that Titus had earlier handed him a small fold of cash under the table. The private investigator had been quick to snap a picture, but there was something more going on with Titus Savage, and he was determined to find out what. Take his disappearance on the drive out following the shoot. Vernon still bitterly regretted pulling in for a bite to eat, but just where had Titus been heading? There was no sign of his 4x4 in the airport car park, and Vernon didn’t need to look at a map to know that a turn off before the motorway would’ve taken him towards the coast. Was Lulabelle’s death connected to the Savage family in some way? Now he could take what he knew to the police, or he could find out for himself. The private investigator washed down the last of his coffee, including the dregs, before tearing the article from the newspaper. This was a case he could handle on his own, he decided. Because if he could prove there was a link then not only would it kill the takeover bid, but Vernon English would secure his reputation at last and the offers of work would come flooding in.

Watching Titus ask for the bill, he found himself looking at this case in a different light. Through Vernon’s eyes, the man had just become his meal ticket to success.

That lunch break, Sasha joined her friends on the skate park ramp. It was the first time that they’d had a chance to talk since her date with Jack. Naturally, everyone wanted to know details.

‘Did you sleep with him?’ asked Faria, who was tapping away on her BlackBerry at the same time.

‘Obviously that would be a no,’ said Sasha, who had just been leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the midday sun on her face. She sat up and rested her arms on the safety rail. ‘I’m not saying never. If things work out then maybe.’

‘But he tried, right?’

‘He isn’t like that.’ Sasha examined her nails, in case the others caught her eye and saw right through her. ‘Not really.’

‘Right.’ Faria looked up from her BlackBerry, smiling to herself. ‘So he went to all that effort cooking just for a kiss on the cheek?’

‘It was more than that.’

‘How much more?’ asked Maisy, who had been listening closely. ‘Did you get to see his cucumber?’

‘That’s none of your business!’ Sasha tried hard to sound outraged.

‘Does that mean it was more of a marrow?’

Faria’s question was met by silence, but only for a moment.

‘Let’s just say I had to deal with a lot of vegetables that evening.’

This time, all three girls laughed together.

‘So, really, what was supper like?’ Faria asked. ‘Apart from light on the chicken.’

‘Good,’ said Sasha, and then caught her eye. ‘Healthy.’

‘You mean boring,’ said Faria, nodding to herself.

Sasha chuckled and looked to her lap.

‘How about the conversation?’ asked Maisy.

This time, Sasha failed to muster even a smile. Maisy and Faria glanced at one another and grinned.

‘That was boring, too?’ asked Faria. ‘Don’t say that, Sasha. Jack is a babe. You’re killing the dream.’

‘In your shoes,’ said Maisy playfully, ‘I wouldn’t be that interested in his mind.’

‘But I’m not like you,’ said Sasha, thinking at the same time what an understatement that was. ‘Look, I was flattered by the effort he made to cook for me. Jack is genuinely into his vegetarianism, too. I do admire him for that.’

‘You admire him?’ Faria paused for a moment. ‘Is that the same as lust?’

‘No.’

‘You’re going red,’ Maisy pointed out. ‘So, if it isn’t lust then could it be love?’

Sensing that further protest would be pointless, Sasha told them both to grow up.

‘I like him, all right? Yes, he’s good looking, and the attention is great, but there has to be more to a boy than a pretty face. It can’t last otherwise, but obviously I’m hoping Jack will prove me wrong.’

‘When are you next seeing him?’ asked Maisy.

‘Any time now,’ said Sasha, and cast her gaze to the cut-through between the school and the field. ‘He’s made me a packed lunch.’

‘Really?’ Faria glanced at Maisy. ‘So, now he’s your mum?’

Sasha weathered the comment by smiling to herself.

‘I figured it would be rude to refuse,’ she told them.

‘Well, you didn’t have a problem saying no to the sex,’ said Maisy.

Sighing now, Sasha faced Maisy and Faria in turn before levelling with them both.

‘Had I just given in and gone for it,’ she said, ‘then right now I wouldn’t be feeling good about myself. Jack is my chance to prove that when it comes to my life I call all the shots. My dad has already marked him down as someone who could lead me astray. The last thing I want to do is make things difficult by acting like a sheep.’

‘You’re not a sheep,’ agreed Maisy with some certainty.

‘You’re a wolf,’ Faria finished for her. ‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing.’

Sasha stared at her shoes, nodding to herself.

‘As for lunch, here’s hoping you like carrot sticks.’

‘Listen, I’ll give it a go,’ said Sasha with a grin. ‘It’s all part of Jack’s challenge to turn me. I’m going veggie for a month.’

For a second, both girls looked lost for words.

‘You are kidding us,’ said Faria slowly. ‘You want his babies. Little vegetarian babies with names like Parsley and Basil.’

‘It must be love,’ Maisy agreed, and drew their attention to the cut-through. There, the young man in question had just appeared bearing a Tupperware box as if it was a bunch of roses.

Jack Greenway had a plan for Sasha. A meal plan. He’d been working on it since their supper together. The result was now folded inside his jeans pocket as he made his way out of the school to meet her. The corridors were swarming with kids. Ever since he’d started the year as a sixth former, it felt as if he were attending some kind of infant school. On the upside, the girls in their GCSE year looked up to him like he had collected an A star in maturity and cool.

‘Hey, Matilda… What’s up, Chrissie? Tess, is that a new ear piercing? What’s it called? A tragus! Wow. Looks good on you.’

As for the boys in the years below Jack, they might as well have been invisible. If they got in his way he would simply expect them to move. That lunchtime, it was Ivan who discovered this for himself. He’d just left the canteen, having collected a ham baguette, and was crossing the corridor on his way to chess club. Cutting across the flow of pupils was never easy, but Jack just made it harder for him.

‘Watch out, dumbass!’ he snapped, when Ivan walked right into him. ‘Have you any idea what you nearly made me drop just then?’

Ivan looked up at the young man clutching the Tupperware box. He knew full well this was the vegetarian guy dating his sister. Clearly Jack had no idea that he was giving Sasha’s kid brother a hard time here. Ivan glanced at the box and took a wild guess at the contents.

‘Looks like rabbit food to me.’

Jack Greenway heard him clearly. The kid was confident. He’d give him that. He was also shaping up for a kicking. Not that Jack was a fighter. Violence was something he opposed in every shape or form, from animal testing to any global conflict that resulted in a wrist band he could wear to put his views on display.

‘It’s got to be better than that muck,’ he said, and grabbed the baguette from Ivan’s hands. ‘What do we have here then?’

‘Give it back!’ the boy demanded.

Calmly, holding it from Ivan’s reach, Jack peeled the baguette apart and peered inside. A disapproving look crossed his face, which he shared with Ivan.

‘You know this ham is processed, don’t you? It contains saturated fat and all kinds of chemicals. In fact, it isn’t really ham at all.’

‘Well, I like it!’ protested Ivan, whose ears and cheeks had turned crimson with anger. ‘And you’ll be sorry.’

By now, the dispute had drawn a small crowd. Jack glanced around and grinned.

‘Kid, I’d be doing you a favour by binning this. If more people ditched meat completely this world would be a better place.’

Ivan had heard enough. Without warning, he leapt up with his all his might and snatched the baguette back into his possession. Then, before anyone could react, he swung it like a cricket bat directly into Jack’s groin. The impact caused the baguette to crumple between his legs and the breath in his lungs to exit in surprise. He looked down, utterly shocked, and then around at the crowd who had just begun to titter and smirk. The assault hadn’t really hurt him, but Jack’s pride had taken quite a hit. Ivan, meanwhile, appeared completely unrepentant.

‘Don’t mess with my lunch again,’ he said, before taking himself and his battered baguette away through the crowd.

Watching him go, Jack felt more sheepish now than stunned. He looked around, still clutching the Tupperware box, and attempted to dismiss the situation with a smile.

‘We’re just fooling around,’ he said. ‘Probably all the additives in that junk he thinks is ham.’

Turning quickly, Jack hurried on his way. He glanced down, just to check the assault hadn’t left him with margarine all over his trousers, and swore that he would get even with that jumped-up little toe rag. Just then, however, he wasn’t going to let it spoil this moment. For Sasha’s first vegetarian lunch, he’d prepared two pots of pineapple and cashew couscous with edamame beans, goat’s cheese and red pepper. With some fresh grapes to follow, he was quietly hoping she’d let him hand feed them to her in his car. The way to a girl’s heart was through her stomach, he believed. It had worked wonders on his previous dates. And once he had won them over, everything else would follow.

As soon as he saw Sasha, sitting on the skate ramp with her mates, Jack stopped and waved the lunchbox. He was pleased to see her climb off and make her way across the field. Sasha was his sole interest just then. Her friends were just a pain.

‘You’re going to love this,’ he said, having wrapped his arm around her and led her further from the skate ramp. ‘That’s if you haven’t changed your mind?’

‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘I can see this is important to you—’

‘Not just to me,’ Jack cut in. ‘Think of the animals.’

‘Oh, OK! That, too!’

Smiling, Jack held her gaze for a moment. Sasha was engaging and smart, he thought to himself, and her willingness to give this a shot was flattering. It was just a shame that she hadn’t let him go all the way at the weekend. After all the work he had put into that meal, she’d hardly repaid the gesture. In the past, other girls had given in before he’d even served dessert. Jack hoped he wouldn’t get bored of her. He’d give it a month, he decided. At a push.

‘Promise me you won’t go back to your old ways over the next four weeks,’ he asked Sasha. ‘If you do, I’ll know.’

‘How?’ Sasha looked puzzled.

‘Your skin,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘A vegetarian diet is so cleansing, as you’re about to find out for yourself. Think of it as a detox.’

Sasha touched her fingers to her face. Her complexion had always been clear and trouble-free, which her mother put down to their diet, but Jack certainly sounded like he would recognise any change.

‘You don’t have to worry,’ she said. ‘Day one has already begun.’

A lock of hair had come loose from her grip. Jack brushed it behind her ear.

‘So, what did you have for breakfast?’ he asked.

‘A kind of last supper,’ said Sasha.’ Muesli. Toast. Steak.’ She waited for Jack to look truly horrified, before her earnest expression melted away. ‘I’m kidding,’ she said. ‘We carnivores know how to eat a balanced diet.’

Jack presented her with the Tupperware box.

‘This is what I call balanced and ethically sound,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s going to make a life-changing impression on you.’

‘That reminds me,’ she said, accepting the box. ‘All of a sudden my dad is really keen to meet you.’

‘Cool,’ said Jack. ‘I’m sure they want to know who’s showing their daughter the light when it comes to meat-free living.’

Sasha peered at the box, wincing slightly at what he’d just said.

‘I’m pleased you’d like to come round,’ she told him, ‘but it might be best to steer clear of the subject of food. My parents have strong views, too, and I’m keen that everyone gets along.’

Jack considered this for a moment, before gently clasping Sasha by the sides of her head and drawing her close to kiss her forehead.

‘I promise to be on my best behaviour,’ he said, and slipped her arm around her waist. ‘Now, why don’t we go find my car so you can start the transformation?’

‘You make it sound so permanent,’ said Sasha, as they turned and headed for the sixth form car park. ‘I only agreed to go veggie for a month.’

‘Let’s see how you feel then,’ said Jack. ‘I’m confident that you won’t look back.’

14

That evening, Oleg Fedor Savadski reached the foot of the stairs from the upper floor, and wondered where he was. He looked around, his dressing-gown sash hanging loose around his pyjamas.

‘Goddammit,’ he muttered to himself. ‘They must’ve moved the bathroom again.’

Oleg knew that his mind was beginning to falter. Little things in his daily life had become a test for him, such as the whereabouts of his spectacles or the name of the thing that hung from the ceiling which glowed when he hit the switch. Of course, he knew it was the light bulb. Like the location of the bathroom, it would quickly come back to him. Even so, as he shuffled along the landing, Oleg wished he could do something to restore his wits.

It was the sound of gunfire and explosions that prompted him to stop outside Ivan’s bedroom. Despite his forgetfulness, Oleg’s memory of the Siege was vivid. Just hearing the crackle of a weapon transported him to the ruins of Leningrad in a blink. Without knocking, he opened the door and looked in on his grandson. Ivan was sitting on the edge of his bed with a videogame controller in his hands. His eyes were locked on the screen across the room. It showed some frenzied military skirmish, and was the source of all the noise.

‘Hi, Grandpa,’ he said, without looking around. At the same time, he squeezed a trigger on the controller. The sound of bullets spitting from a clip filled the room for a moment. ‘Are you looking for the loo again?’

‘It can wait,’ said Grandpa, watching the action on the screen. ‘Good game?’

‘Great game,’ said Ivan, who had yet to blink. ‘I love this level. If I can take out every mercenary I’ll get a weapons upgrade and then I’m practically unbeatable.’

‘Can I play?’

Ivan hit the pause button. The noise gave way to silence. Ivan faced his grandfather, surprised by the request.

‘Really?’

‘Got to keep my reflexes sharp somehow.’ Oleg closed the door behind him. ‘Now make room for an old man and pass me the other controller.’

It took a little while for Oleg to get to grips with the game. Thrilled that his grandfather should show an interest, Ivan patiently explained what to do, and even suggested that they fight on the same side.

‘I’ll be your wingman,’ he said. ‘Lock and load, Grandpa!’

‘The action is a little over the top,’ said Oleg, who was leaning forward to focus on the split screen in front of them. ‘But it reminds me of the old days, that’s for sure.’

For a moment, the pair focused on taking out an incoming wave of mercenaries.

‘What was it like?’ asked Ivan next. ‘During the war?’

‘Grim,’ said Oleg. ‘Like hell on earth, with just a taste of Heaven every now and then.’

‘Sniper on the tower,’ warned Ivan, and promptly took out the target with a headshot. The body dropped from its position, hitting the floor like all the bones had left its body. ‘See ya, sucker!’

‘God rest his soul,’ said Oleg quietly, but it was enough to draw a glance from his grandson. ‘So, what happens to the corpse now?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Ivan with a shrug.

Oleg looked back at the screen. Smoke drifted across the battleground, which shook as a nearby airstrike hit a building. With a sigh, he set the controller down beside him.

‘There is a lot of death in this game,’ he said. ‘With no respect shown to the fallen.’

Finding himself without a partner, Ivan mashed the controller buttons in a bid to stay alive.

‘What do you suggest?’ he asked. ‘We bury him while the bullets fly?’

‘No,’ said Oleg. ‘We should eat him.’

For the second time since his grandfather joined him, Ivan paused the game.

‘This isn’t real,’ said the boy. ‘It’s fun.’

Oleg clasped his hands in his lap. He stared at his thumbs, turning them over and over.

‘No death should be taken in vain, as we all hope you’ve learned after what happened at the weekend.’ He watched the boy press his lips together, nodding at the same time. Then he waited for Ivan to meet his eyes once more. ‘Ivan, if a life must come to an end then the body should be treated with ceremony. Your father wasn’t unaffected by the disposal of the model. He was forced to take that action for the sake of his son, but it moved him deeply.’

‘I know,’ said Ivan quietly. ‘He hugged us all a lot the next day.’

‘It’s a shame we weren’t able to consume her,’ said Oleg, ‘In the early history of mankind, a friend or a foe would be feasted upon as a mark of respect. Long before burial and cremation became popular, that’s just how things were done.’ He stopped there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Of course, I had no choice but to revive the ritual as a means of survival, but after the Siege it grew to mean so much more to me, and to my family.’

‘How was it?’ asked Ivan, who had been listening closely. ‘The first time?’

Oleg chuckled to himself.

‘Awful, tortuous, unbearable,’ he said. ‘Your grandmother and I were close to death ourselves. We were gaunt, weak, beyond hope, and struggling to stay alive in a city with more bodies than the living. All the food had gone. There was nothing left we could eat. Nothing but…’ He paused to reflect for a moment. ‘Slowly, it became something that many people considered, but only a few put into practice. Some say it was mostly young mothers desperate to feed their children, but I didn’t see that for myself. We had thought about it for some time, of course, but always dismissed it as going beyond the limits of humanity.’

‘So what changed your mind?’

‘A neighbour,’ said Oleg. ‘She lived in the apartment next to ours, and had seen every member of her family perish. She was a sweet, quiet soul who had endured just so much misery. The trauma of our existence left her vulnerable. Your grandmother helped her wherever possible, and once even shared a dead pigeon with her that we’d managed to find in the rubble. But, Ivan, her heart was broken. She had no will to survive. Weak beyond reason, it was a small mercy that her heart gave out in her sleep. We couldn’t just leave her corpse in the apartment. We had to do something, but at the same time we were desperate people. That morning we had forced down pebbles just to give our bellies something, so you can understand what led us to look at her body in a different light.’

‘Was it your idea?’ asked Ivan, who had been listening intently. ‘Or Granny’s?’

‘I could read her mind and she could read mine,’ answered Oleg, nodding at the same time. ‘It was as if an inner voice had awoken in us both, and it spoke so loud and clear that neither of us could ignore it. So, we made a joint decision. Your grandmother folded back the bed sheet and with my penknife we peeled off the thinnest layer of flesh from her thigh. Oh, Ivan, the moment moved me to tears. What I was doing felt so wrong and yet so necessary. The slither wasn’t enough to sustain either of us. We halved it, and on the count of three each placed what we had in our mouths. Several times we spat it out, and both of us wretched before we finally succeeded in washing it down our gullets with rain water. But once it settled in the stomach we soon went back for more. We were starving to death, Ivan, you have to remember that, so to be nourished at that time was to feel as if God Himself had fed us. I’ll never forget it. We were rejuvenated and elated, as if born again! My boy, there is something so special about human flesh that drives a man to devour until nothing more is left. Ever since, I look forward to that feeling each time we sit to feast.’

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 device 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.

‘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 for 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 nothing 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!’

Jack smiled, but clearly didn’t feel it was worth entering into an argument. Instead, much to Ivan’s delight, he drained the cup before suggesting to Sasha that they should be going.

‘We don’t want to be late.’

‘What do you have planned?’ asked Angelica.

Jack looked across at Sasha.

‘I thought you might like to go to a talk,’ he said. ‘At the university. It’s open to the public.’

‘The university.’ Angelica couldn’t help but look impressed. ‘That beats the back seats at the cinema.’

‘What is the talk about?’ asked Titus.

‘It’s called “Beyond Vegetarianism”,’ said Jack, which prompted Sasha to drop her gaze to the floor. ‘Why don’t you join us?’

Titus took a second to realise that Jack was inviting him.

‘I don’t think Sasha would appreciate my presence,’ he said eventually, and then waited for her to look up. ‘But I look forward to hearing all about it.’

The request was met by an uncomfortable silence. Ivan was quick to pick up on it, however. Leaning in beside Jack, he collected his empty cup and said: ‘More tea?’

Jack looked back at his girlfriend’s kid brother. For someone who had crossed him at school, the boy had been surprisingly forgiving.

‘We just don’t have the time,’ he told him, and toyed with the cup in front of him. ‘But that was truly divine.’

17

Amanda Dias didn’t look like an impressive speaker. A first-year undergraduate, she was slight in build, with cropped, boyish hair and delicate features arranged around an apparently shy, skewed smile. What silenced her audience was her militant position on the subject of ethical eating, especially those who did not share her views.

‘The hunters,’ she said at one point, ‘should become the hunted.’

Amanda stood with her feet pointed inwards and the microphone clutched in both hands. She turned to address her audience as she spoke, leaving breathy silences between each statement she made.

‘Wow,’ whispered Jack, who had chosen a middle row alongside Sasha. There were in the university’s smaller auditorium, with tables arranged at the flanks offering everything from pamphlets to specialised snacks. ‘This is intense.’

Sasha had spent most of the time noting Amanda’s sense of style. Everything she wore was made from cruelty-free material such as hemp and waxed cotton, as she had mentioned at the beginning as if to establish her credentials. Her navy-blue dress with matching cream cuffs and collar made her look like someone who might’ve been accused of witchcraft centuries earlier and burned at the stake. This martyr look worked well, thought Sasha, while the bold nature of her talk was clearly making an impression. Sasha struggled to get comfortable on the wooden bench. The girl was too good to be true. Off stage, she decided, Amanda Dias was probably one of those people who jealously guarded her food in the fridge.

‘How much of this stuff do you think she got off the internet?’ she asked Jack, leaning across so as not to be overheard. ‘It’s her thesis, no?’

Jack shot Sasha a look that told her he didn’t share her outlook.

‘We live among murderers,’ Amanda continued. ‘We share our lives with them. They walk among us. Is this the mark of a civilised society? We must confront the flesh-eaters. Change their way of life, for the sake of our world… or stop them from causing further slaughter.’

Amanda was the third person to take to the stage that evening. Sasha had listened closely to the two speakers before her. One was from the university’s Animal Rights society, while the other had worked in a hospital canteen until his conversion to veganism, refusal to handle meat products, and subsequent sacking. Until Amanda took the microphone, Sasha had been quietly impressed. It all seemed so grown up, and far removed from sitting on the edge of the skate ramp at school. These were mature individuals with passionate, heartfelt beliefs. This may have been the last place Sasha expected to find herself, but in a way it was beginning to feel like a new kind of home. Having gone without meat for several days, it seemed to her like she had at least earned the credentials to sit here and listen. The Animal Rights speaker made some interesting points, and she admired the stand made by the chef, even if it was pretty clear some drinking issues had contributed to his dismissal. In Sasha’s opinion, it was only this militant chick who had failed to strike a chord.

‘Amanda,’ said one young man in the front row, when she invited questions from the audience. ‘Are you saying it’s OK to kill meat eaters?’

Amanda smiled sweetly, as if she’d just been asked where her dress came from.

‘I am simply sharing my thoughts, and hoping to… connect, influence, inform and engage.’

Jack turned and nodded his approval to Sasha. She waited for him to face the stage once more before shaking her head. It was a shame this girl had been invited to speak. The evening didn’t need this pretentious nonsense, from someone who looked incapable of killing an unwanted call let alone a human being. Worst of all, it appeared as if Jack was hanging on every word she uttered.

‘There’ll be a few minutes before the next talk,’ whispered Sasha, when Amanda finally finished to a flutter of applause. ‘I’ll get us something to eat.’

‘You do that,’ said Jack, who rose to his feet at the same time as Sasha. ‘Just make mine vegan.’

‘Really?’ Sasha glanced across at the podium, unsure if he had just said that very loudly so somebody else could hear him. Even Jack couldn’t resist a quick look, but Amanda was busy collecting her papers from the lectern.

‘This is it for me,’ he said, when Sasha returned her attention to him. ‘There’s no going back now. After listening to Amanda, it seems to me we need to stand up for what we believe in.’

Sasha furrowed her brow. From experience, he just didn’t look the sort.

‘Jack, you’d never take a life.’

He seemed to think about this for a moment, before looking a little embarrassed.

‘I tell you what I could murder, though,’ he said, gesturing at a table of food and drink. ‘A slice of that chestnut bake.’

Leaving Jack to clamber over seats to the floor, Sasha made her way towards the end of the row. Most people looked a little older than her, but Sasha didn’t feel intimidated. Nor was she starving hungry, as she had been after her first few days of vegetarian eating. She was still surprised by how understanding her mother had been. Rather than simply serve up a supper minus the meat product, she had created alternatives just for Sasha. The chard and cheddar bake was nice, even if it had been the first time that Angelica attempted such a creation. It had even proven to be quite filling, which obliged them both to seek out a hidden space at the back of the freezer to keep what was left for another day.

Many people in the auditorium had already headed for the refreshment tables, where a small queue was forming. Sasha lined up with her arms folded and looked to her feet. The guy in front of her was wearing scuffed leather shoes, she noticed, which seemed a bit rebellious in this kind of company. She was just mulling over what Amanda Dias would have to say about that when she noticed them rotate to one side a little. She looked up, to find the young man was grinning at her.

‘Is it wrong to be disappointed knowing that there’s no bacon butty waiting for me at the front of this line?’

Sasha blinked in surprise, laughed and then touched her fingertips to her lips. The guy wasn’t much older than her. He was as scruffy as his shoes, wearing a hoodie, T-shirt and jeans as well as several days of stubble on a square-set face.

‘It would be wrong,’ she said eventually, keeping her voice low. ‘But I know just what you mean. I feel I’m queuing up to be disappointed here.’

The guy’s smile broadened.

‘That speaker,’ he said, and nodded towards the stage. ‘Is she for real?’

‘Someone thinks so,’ replied Sasha under her breath. ‘Between you and me, halfway through I wished I had a bag of Frazzles I could quietly flick at her.’

The guy held her gaze, still beaming broadly.

‘I’m Ralph,’ he said, and shook her hand. ‘It’s been eight weeks since I last ate meat, and the whole bacon thing is driving me to distraction.’

‘The crack cocaine of the meat industry,’ agreed Sasha. ‘What turned you?’

‘It felt like something I wanted to do,’ he said simply. ‘But I know what you mean about the whole food fascism thing. Every time I hear someone like Amanda preach that meat is murder I want to go out and buy a burger. I just don’t understand why being vegetarian makes you any better than anyone else. What’s with the big statements? It’s just a choice, in a free society. I think so long as you know where your food’s coming from, and you’re happy with that, then you should be able to live your life without being judged. How about you?’

Sasha found herself listening so closely to what Ralph had to say that a moment passed before she registered her question.

‘Me? Oh, I’m just going without meat for a while. I just want to see what it’s like.’

‘And how is it going?’

Across the floor, Jack Greenway had finally muscled into a conversation between Amanda Dias and the alcoholic cook. He was nodding furiously, switching his attention from one to the other, but mostly returning to Amanda. Sasha looked back at Ralph. He was next in line to be served.

‘I’ve surprised myself so far,’ she said. ‘But it’s good to know I’m not alone in facing moments of temptation.’

Ralph seemed a little taken aback at this. Then that smile returned, before he turned to face the table. It left Sasha wondering whether she’d just said something, and then realised that she had. Before she could find a way to explain that she hadn’t just tried to score on him, Ralph moved aside for her.

‘Some of this stuff looks good,’ he said, and then dipped down to find her ear. ‘And a lot of it looks like squirrel bait.’

Giggling, and with her cheeks still hot, Sasha decided to say nothing. Instead, she picked off a slice of the bake for Jack, skipping one for herself, and then collected two plastic cups of cola.

‘Are these drinks vegan?’ she asked him.

Ralph shrugged.

‘Even if they aren’t,’ he said under his breath. ‘It can be our secret if you like.’

Vernon English had slumped so far down in the driving seat that he could no longer see over the dash. He’d done so on purpose, just as soon as Titus Savage strode into view. Waiting for his target to cross the street in front of the vehicle, on his way to the lobby in the building opposite, the private investigator couldn’t help noticing that the lower half of the steering wheel was mottled with his greasy fingerprints

‘That’s it,’ he said to himself. ‘No more chips in the van.’

Vernon had been expecting Titus. Having tailed the man for weeks now, and with an ear inside his house, he knew that today would see the takeover completed. It was all over for the company who had hired Vernon. Sure, he could’ve presented them with some evidence that Titus had engaged in corporate crimes, but what would that achieve? The company would call in the cops, and if the Savage house hid secrets about Lulabelle Hart then Vernon would just be a footnote in the story of his arrest. By staying quiet as Titus broke up the company and sold it off, the private investigator would be sacrificing his full fee. What persuaded him to just keep on the man’s tail was the belief that one day soon they would both be making headlines. While photographers tried to snatch a shot of Titus through the window of a speeding police van, Vernon would be giving lengthy interviews to the broadsheets about how his intuition and persistence had paid off.

‘There’s blood on your hands,’ he said, grunting as he sat up in the seat. Across the street, Titus had entered the lobby. He was there as the company’s new boss. The lion had arrived at his new den, and Vernon knew just what would happen next. The man wasn’t there to save the business but carve it up and toss out the parts for profit. Vernon had seen it all before. Normally, these guys, the asset strippers, were cold-hearted individuals. Some even got a kick from the misery they caused. Titus was different, however. At home, he made every effort to spend time with Angelica and their children. Through Vernon’s eyes, and with his suspicions, there was something about the guy that he was missing. Somewhere, a link existed between the beast in the boardroom and the father who put family first.

The first of the staff to be given immediate notice left about an hour later. Vernon watched them exit, some clutching boxes with their personal effects, others looking shell-shocked and tearful. How could anyone do such a thing, simply to make money? He could just imagine Titus picking off members of the workforce without a trace of emotion. Once he’d got the numbers down to the bone, he’d have them sell off the company bit by little bit. Eventually, there would be nothing but a skeleton plus a fattened bank account, and that’s when he’d move on – setting his sights on another corporate kill.

Towards lunchtime, Vernon was surprised to see Angelica making her way towards the building. She was wearing a pair of large sunglasses, despite the fact that the sky was overcast. A straw tote bag swung from the crook of her arm. Vernon squinted to see what was peeking from the top. A baguette and a bottle of champagne, he realised, before pulling the peak of his cap low in case she happened to glance in his direction.

‘So, your husband ruins lives one morning, and you show up with a celebratory picnic?’

Vernon shook his head, struggling with the insensitivity of what he was seeing here. Titus and Angelica were one of a kind. Even in the privacy of their home, food came first. It’s all he’d heard the pair talk about, but there just had to be more to them than that. Vernon watched Angelica make her way up the steps outside the building, and suddenly realised that he was following the wrong people.

If Vernon English was going to uncover the truth about Lulabelle, then he’d need to find a different way into the family. The private investigator twisted the key in the ignition, and again when the engine failed to start. Titus and Angelica were clearly too wise and experienced at covering themselves, but he felt sure the same couldn’t be said for their kids.

18

Ivan Savage enjoyed a game of chess. What he loathed was losing. That wasn’t why he joined the school club. He was there to prove his sense of strategy and logic was close to perfection. On those occasions when his opponents began to tighten in on his queen, he would turn to rules of his own in a bid to avoid checkmate.

‘Prepare for a butt kicking,’ crowed Ali Kaar, leaning on his elbows as he studied the board. ‘Whenever you want to make your move, I’m ready!’

Ivan watched him closely. He didn’t once glance down to consider his position. He barely moved, in fact, but for a tensing in his jaw muscles as he ground his molars together.

‘I need to think about this,’ he said eventually.

‘Take your time.’ Ali pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. ‘I need a leak anyhow.’

They had been playing for several hours. Ivan had opted for an aggressive strategy, but that left him with only one back-up plan when Ali pulled several surprise moves. This took the form of a jug of water and two cups. Ivan always made sure that they were in easy reach before he sat down to play. Then it was his turn to go for something unexpected. This involved refilling his opponent’s cup on a regular basis, knowing that he would have to answer the call of nature eventually. As soon as Ali left the table for the toilet, Ivan popped open his schoolbag and carefully fished out a small wooden box. It contained a complete set of both black and white pieces, identical to those used by the school chess club, as well as a thin metal mesh glove. First making sure that everybody else was engrossed in their own games, Ivan slipped the glove on and then set about replacing his opponent’s pieces. He’d done this many times over, which meant he had easily completed the manoeuvre before Ali returned. Finally, when the boy dropped back into his seat, Ivan moved one of his pieces.

‘Your turn,’ he said, and grasped the corners of the table as if to brace himself for something.

Ali studied the pieces for a moment.

‘Is that it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve left yourself wide open.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Ivan, who smiled to himself when Ali reached for the pawn he expected him to play. As soon as he grasped it, the boy’s face contorted in shock and pain.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Ivan, as his opponent set the piece back down smartly and shook his hand. A smattering of blood spots hit Ivan’s shirt, but he didn’t mind one bit. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Splinter, I think!’ Ali examined his finger, where a bead of blood was growing. ‘Man, that’s really painful.’

‘Unlucky,’ said Ivan, who gestured at the table. ‘Feel free to try again.

For the next few minutes, poor Ali Kaar suffered one assault to his fingers after another as he attempted to make each move. Even when he switched strategies, every time he touched a chess piece it left him gasping. Eventually, with tears streaking his cheeks and his hand shrouded in a bloodstained handkerchief, Ali conceded defeat in order to seek medical help from the school nurse.

‘You win,’ he sniffed, clutching his hand to his chest. ‘I never want to play you again!’

‘They all say that,’ said Ivan under his breath, and quietly reached for the glove so that he could return the pieces to the box.

It was a satisfying victory. Ivan would’ve preferred to win without suffering and bloodshed, but sometimes it was necessary to avoid the incomparable pain of defeat. In some ways, he liked to think that substituting the chess pieces for a set with a sprinkling of iron filings glued to them was just another strategy of the game. At the very least, he had thought ahead and used his brain to win.

Ivan left school that afternoon with his bag slung over one shoulder and his hands in his trouser pockets. He headed for home on foot. The school bus only ran after school had finished, but he didn’t mind missing it. The afternoon sesssion had made it all worthwhile. It also meant less time fighting with his sister or getting a hard time from his mum about making a mess around the house.

Ivan followed the usual route, heading from school towards the park. It took him across the high street, where he went on to follow the long, curving road towards the pedestrian crossing. It was here, about a minute into the walk, that he became aware of the vehicle. It was a battered white van, not an unusual sight, but it had been parked outside the school when he left the gates. A few minutes later, he had spotted it in a disabled parking bay in front of the charity shop. This time, the van was sitting at a junction on the other side of the street. Ivan walked on, keeping his head down but listening keenly.

Sure enough, a short time after he had passed the junction he heard it pull off. The boy glanced over his shoulder. The van was just behind him, moving at a walking pace which increased when the boy picked up his stride. Ivan had heard about moments like this. There were some sick people out there. Back in primary school, a policeman had even come into assembly to talk about stranger danger. It never seemed like such a big deal now that he was older, but suddenly this felt very real and Ivan felt entirely alone. He glanced over his shoulder one more time. Sure enough, there it was. With the sun overhead, reflecting on the van’s windscreen, it was impossible to see who was behind the wheel. That’s when Ivan’s imagination went into overdrive, and a sense of fear caused his skin to prickle.

‘Be cool,’ he whispered to himself, and reached for his phone. Quickly he found his father’s number. It went straight to answer machine, which wasn’t unusual, but just then he wished his dad didn’t have so many meetings during the day. Ringing off without leaving a message, Ivan turned to check he hadn’t been mistaken, and then steered closer to the shop fronts as if that might offer him some kind of protection.

The pizzas, when they arrived, looked just as Jack Greenway had imagined. Each one featured a lot of tomato, mushroom, pepper and onions, but with no sign of any cheese.

‘Yum,’ he made himself say for the benefit of the girl sharing his window table. ‘You made a great choice.’

Amanda Dias studied her topping for a moment, declining an invitation from the waiter for a twist of black pepper.

‘Food should be pure and simple,’ she told Jack, collecting her knife and fork. ‘I would sooner gnaw off my own fingers than eat dairy.’

Jack sat across from her with his hands on his knees and just stared.

‘Awesome,’ he said eventually. ‘Just amazing.’

He had contacted Amanda the day after her talk. Friending her on Facebook was out of the question. That would only invite Sasha’s suspicions. Instead, he had headed back to the university on his lunch break, where he found her handing out leaflets outside the Union bar. She recognised him straight away, and even seemed pleased when he approached. That’s when Jack had switched on every charm button in his body and invited her to lunch. He wanted to learn more about veganism, he had told her. From someone who could provide him with guidance, wisdom and inspiration.

The lunch, he had said to finish, would of course be his treat.

Now that Amanda was here, in his company, Jack found himself a little lost for words. It wasn’t something that had happened to him before. In fact, he prided himself on being able to talk easily to girls and win them over by showing how much he cared for animals. Sure, Amanda was attractive, but in terms of conversation he felt outclassed. She just seemed so confident. So sure of her outlook on life. Sasha was lovely – beautiful, kind and funny – but she had needed him to lead her into his vegetarian world. Amanda was different. Her views went way beyond anything Jack held, and now he wanted to go there. Having been in the audience when she spoke, he found himself seduced by her hardline veganism.

Unlike Sasha, she also looked like she might go all the way if he cooked for her one night.

‘I have a question,’ said Amanda, chewing on her second slice of pizza. ‘It’s hypothetical, of course, but I’m interested.’

‘Go ahead,’ said Jack, who had yet to start his meal. ‘Ask me anything.’

‘Let’s say we have two dishes on this table. Both of them covered with a lid, but you have to choose one.’

‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘What’s on the menu?’

Amanda pretended to lift an invisible lid from her plate.

‘Roast leg of lamb,’ she told him, and then repeated the gesture. ‘Or braised human heart.’

The way she presented this, with a wicked smile and her eyes penetrating his, left Jack with no air in his lungs.

‘Oh,’ he croaked finally, and breathed in once again. ‘For real?’

Amanda Dias nodded, not releasing him from her gaze for a moment.

‘For me, it would come down to ethics,’ she said. ‘Which animal, the lamb or the human, has caused more misery, murder and suffering in this world?’

‘The human,’ said Jack, who was beginning to feel the need for some fresh air. ‘Naturally.’

‘Then there is your answer,’ she said, and presented him with the invisible plate he had selected. ‘Enjoy!’

For a moment, Jack wondered if she expected him to pretend to eat it. He regarded the empty space where the plate was supposed to be. ‘What does braised mean?’

A grin eased across Amanda’s face.

‘I’m thinking you wouldn’t, right?’

Jack sat back, feeling hot and ready for a glass of water.

‘I don’t… I don’t know,’ he said, faltering once more, and that’s when a figure passed the window that commanded his full attention.

‘Ivan!’ he said out loud, relieved at first that he had found a way out of the conversation. Then Jack considered just how bad this looked from the street, and called out to him more urgently, ‘Hey, wait a minute!’

Ivan Savage rarely experienced fear. He had seen it in the eyes of many people, of course, and not just the victims of his pranks. His father hated to witness it in those they intended to consume. It was inevitable that they’d freak out when it became apparent why they were in the house and what the family had in mind. Even so, it was important that they kept such suffering to a minimum. It only provoked a rush of adrenalin in their victims, and a hormonal release like that just risked spoiling the flavour of the meat.

It was this thought, no matter how misplaced, that dogged Ivan’s thoughts as he hurried past the pizza restaurant. He checked for the van once more. It had pulled in some distance behind, as if the driver was waiting for the moment to snatch him from the streets. Ivan’s mouth was dry and his throat felt tight when he swallowed. It was one of the diners on the other side of the glass that caught his eye, but Ivan didn’t register that it was Jack until the young man rushed from his table to the door.

‘It’s not what it seems!’ Jack called out to him, with both hands raised as if to calm the boy. ‘Amanda is a friend.’

Ivan blinked and glanced back inside at the girl he had left at the table. Then he focused on the van before addressing Jack.

‘Help me,’ he said, much to Jack’s surprise. ‘Is your car nearby?’

‘Sure,’ said Jack, sounding as disarmed as he looked. ‘It’s parked around the back.’

Ivan gestured at the van.

‘There’s a man over there. I think he wants to interfere with me.’

‘What?’ Jack wheeled around, saw the van, and then glanced back, looking a little wary. ‘Shouldn’t we call the police or something?’

‘Take me home, Jack.’

Jack considered the request for a moment. He looked torn.

‘But my date… my lunch date.’

This time, Ivan’s eyes narrowed before returning to the girl, who had just finished her last slice of pizza. Amanda regarded him for less than a second, before helping herself to a slice from Jack’s plate.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ asked Ivan.

‘Not any more,’ said Jack, who had just worked out a way to buy the boy’s silence. ‘Listen, if I drive you home will you forget you saw me here? It never happened, right?’

Ivan didn’t even look in Amanda’s direction.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

19

Sasha Savage had returned from school feeling ravenous.

It was a feeling she had become used to in recent weeks. Being vegetarian wasn’t easy. Sacrifices had to be made. Not only did she have to plan each meal, and carefully keep it from her father, she found that she needed to eat little and often to make it through each day. And yet despite it all, as the end of her month without meat approached, Sasha was feeling good about herself. Better than ever, in fact. She could see it in her skin, just as Jack had promised. It was supple and elastic, while her eyes were clear and sparkling. What’s more, as she hung her coat up in the hallway, she found that she had actually developed a taste for a meat-free diet.

‘Hello?’ she called up the stairs. ‘Is anyone home?’

She waited for a response for a moment, and then smiled to herself. Without a doubt, her grandfather would be in his bedroom, but the house was as good as empty. Not only was he hard of hearing, he hadn’t ventured downstairs in an age.

It meant Sasha was free to head for the kitchen and fix herself a tasty snack.

‘Let’s see,’ she said to herself, crouching in front of the fridge, and began to extract items one by one. ‘Tofu is good, cucumber, some mint, yoghurt and a pita pouch.’

The tofu block and the pita came from the lowest shelf, hidden at the back behind a ham. It was her mother who placed it all there for her. She had been so kind and understanding about everything. Sasha knew she disapproved, but that hadn’t stopped her from helping her daughter keep her food choices a secret from Titus. Laying a chopping board on the surface, Sasha found a knife and pierced the pita bread. Carefully, she drew the blade down, opening up the pouch. It reminded her of those times her father had asked her to help in getting ready for a feast. Over the years, with a corpse laid out on the kitchen table, she had learned to extract everything from top to toe and prepare it accordingly. Using her fingers, Sasha eased the pocket open, just as she would as if preparing to stuff a neck cutlet with herbs, butter and garlic. She had just reached for a teaspoon for the hummus when a shriek from close behind caused her to drop it to the floor.

‘What the… Katya!’ Her younger sister was sitting at the doorway. She gurgled happily, before crawling across the kitchen to greet her. ‘You startled me,’ said Sasha, and plucked her from the floor. ‘What are you doing here on your own? Anything could’ve happened to you! Are you OK?’

‘Mince!’

The toddler responded by reaching out for the tofu. Sasha turned, but was too late to stop Kat from grabbing it.

‘That’s not mince,’ chuckled Sasha, and leaned away to avoid getting smeared. Katya waved the block in the air, before taking a bite from the corner. ‘I’m not sure you’ll like that… oh! So, you do like that!’

Turning to more important matters, she carried her little sister into the hallway and called out for her grandfather one more time. Again, Sasha received no answer, but this time she took to the staircase. With nobody on the first floor, she continued around to the second flight. Music floated down from the room at the top. It was a mournful orchestral, most likely Russian, which she knew reminded him of many things. Sure enough, she found him under the skylight, facing a black and white photograph of old Leningrad, with his head tipped back as he quietly conducted to himself.

‘Grandpa,’ she said softly, so as not to take him by surprise. When that failed to work, she crossed the room to turn the volume down. As soon as she did so, he dropped his arms and opened his eyes. Sasha tried to look calm and collected for him. ‘Grandpa, is Katya supposed to be in your care?’

‘Of course, he said, smiling at his youngest grandchild. ‘We were just enjoying some music together.’

‘She was downstairs,’ said Sasha cautiously. ‘She must’ve got there all on her own.’

At first, Oleg seemed not to hear her. He stroked Kat’s cheek, and watched her gnawing on something in her hand.

‘So, maybe she was hungry,’ he said eventually. ‘Sure looks like she can prepare herself a snack.’

‘I gave it to her,’ said Sasha. ‘Grandpa, she’s too young to be left alone on the stairs. Anything could’ve happened!’

This time, after a moment to register what she’d just told him, Oleg bowed his head and nodded.

‘I didn’t hear her go,’ he said, toying with his beard. ‘Your mother asked me to watch her for an hour. Maybe that isn’t such a good idea any more.’

Sasha placed her free hand on his shoulder.

‘Kat didn’t come to any harm,’ she said. ‘She’s happy now.’

Oleg glanced up. As he did so, the toddler waved what was left of the tofu block at him.

‘What is that?’ he asked, and took it from her. ‘Should she be eating this? Should anyone?’

‘Let me get rid of that for you,’ Sasha said hurriedly, and reached out to take it from him.

Oleg responded by drawing his hand from her reach. He held it close to his nose, before taking a very slight nibble.

‘It’s a bean curd,’ he said, grimacing slightly. ‘A meat substitute.’

A sense of unease began to rise in Sasha. She looked at Katya, as if hoping the toddler might provide her with an explanation, and then back at her grandfather. He didn’t look upset, however. Just puzzled and even curious. All manner of excuses jumped into Sasha’s head, but somehow nothing seemed to fit. It just felt wrong to lie to a man of his years. She only had to look in his eyes to know that he was awaiting the truth. With her heart stirring, Sasha took a breath and heard her own voice break the silence.

‘I like the taste,’ she said. ‘Actually, I like it a lot.’

Jack Greenway held the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He glanced in the rear view mirror and cursed.

‘The van’s still with us,’ he muttered, and shifted up a gear. ‘What would anyone want with a kid like you?’

Ivan sat in the passenger seat, his sightline just higher than the dashboard.

‘I’m twelve years old,’ he said. ‘For some men, that makes me kind of hot.’

Jack glanced at his passenger and frowned.

‘So, what do you suggest?’ he asked. ‘Every turn I take, he’s right there behind us. If I take you home, he’ll know where you live.’

‘How about we go to your place?’

‘Then he’ll know where I live!’ Jack swung left without indicating. ‘It’s you he wants, Ivan. I’m just doing you a favour here.’

‘No,’ said Ivan to correct him. ‘I’m helping you out by keeping quiet about your lunch date.’

Jack grimaced to himself.

‘It isn’t what you think,’ he said.

‘What am I thinking?’ asked Ivan, staring straight ahead.

‘You know. That somehow I’m cheating on your sister by sharing a pizza with a friend.’

‘A friend.’ Ivan smiled to himself. ‘Right.’

Jack checked the rear view mirror once again.

‘Do we have to discuss it now?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t it more important that we lose this guy? Let’s not forget that I could’ve just kept my head down when you walked passed. Had I ignored you, chances are right now you’d be at the foot of a pit in that man’s cellar in the dress he’d ordered you to wear.’

‘Let me try my dad again,’ said Ivan, and pulled out his mobile. ‘He makes mincemeat out of creeps like this.’

Jack concentrated on driving while Ivan made the call. Once again, however, the line went to answer machine. Up ahead, a set of traffic lights turned from green to amber.

‘We’re not going to make it,’ muttered Jack.

‘Then put your foot down!’ Ivan urged. ‘It’s our big chance!’

The hybrid could pack a punch. Jack knew that. He was also well aware that jumping lights could lead to a car wreck, not to mention points on his licence and the very real possibility that his father would refuse to pay the increase in insurance. So, rather than floor the accelerator pedal, he coasted to a halt as the lights switched to red. The engine cut out automatically, which left the pair sitting in tense silence.

‘The van is three cars back,’ Jack whispered, as if fearing he might be overheard. He reached for the mirror, turning it slightly for a better look. ‘OK, so now the driver’s door has just opened. The guy is getting out.’ He stopped there and faced Ivan. The boy looked as terrified as he felt.

‘Do something,’ said Ivan.

‘Like what?’ Jack’s voice rose in pitch.

‘Sacrifice yourself.’ Tightening his eyes into a penetrating stare, Ivan held his phone between them. ‘Sacrifice yourself or the next call goes to my sister.’

20

Earlier, while waiting for the boy to leave the school grounds, Vernon English had bought himself lunch. Parked in the high street, he’d been spoiled for choice. A club sandwich had been tempting, along with a flapjack and a bottle of real lemonade, but with a long afternoon ahead he’d opted for something more filling.

The steak and ale pasty had just come out of the oven. There was no way Vernon could’ve eaten the thing until it cooled considerably, and so he had placed it on the passenger seat. The van had quickly filled with an aroma that made his mouth water. He reached for the wrapper a couple of times, only to pull away on feeling the volcanic heat through his fingertips.

‘I wanted something to eat,’ he grumbled at one point. ‘Not a sample of the earth’s core.’

By the time the private investigator sighted Ivan, and started the engine to trail him, his pasty remained untouched. His plan was to stay with the boy just to see where it led him. If the Savage children were involved in the death of the model, he had decided, then surely they would be struggling. Their parents might’ve been able to play things coolly, as if nothing had happened, but it was different for kids. At that age, you’d have to tell someone. You just couldn’t live without that kind of thing in your head. It would spill out at some point. Vernon felt pretty confident as he pulled out after Ivan. The kid was the key to all this, he felt sure. He had been in the house on the day of the shoot, unlike his older sister, which made him Vernon’s primary person of interest.

That the boy quickly realised he was being followed came as no surprise to the private investigator.

‘You’re bound to be paranoid,’ said Vernon, who had seen it all before. ‘It’s what happens when you carry around a guilty secret.’

He made no attempt to back off. In his experience, keeping up the pressure like this simply made it more likely that the kid would crack and confess. On seeing Ivan pass the pizza place, only to wheel around as Sasha’s boyfriend bundled out in a state of some animation, Vernon pulled up smartly in the van. Was Jack Greenway in on it, too? What was with the drama? With his eyes fixed on the pair, Vernon reached across for his pasty. He found the packet on the seat, and then dropped it again as if he’d just discovered it was wired to the vehicle’s battery.

‘For crying out loud!’ he growled, and flapped his hand until the pain eased. ‘You could fuel a power station with this!’

Having his lunch right beside him, seemingly superheated, was beginning to place Vernon in a foul mood. He was hungry, irritable, and also distracted, he realised, on looking back at the pizza place. Luckily, he caught sight of the pair as they headed for the little car park behind the building. He waited for the hybrid to edge out, and then let several cars pass before tailing it. Even if the pair knew they were being followed, he didn’t want them to recognise him. Every now and then, he would test the pasty on the passenger seat. Each time it felt a little cooler, in that it wouldn’t now turn an ocean to steam. Eventually, on reaching a set of traffic lights, Vernon found that he could actually hold it in one hand without having to make a beeline to the hospital burn’s unit.

‘This had better be worth it,’ he muttered, and eased the top of the pasty from the packet. With one hand grasping the wheel still, Vernon chewed off a generous corner. His teeth sunk through the pastry crust, which was now bearable. Unfortunately for Vernon, it also insulated what felt to him just then like a filling made from molten lava. Instinctively, he spat it out against the windscreen. The gravy was just as hot, as he discovered a second later as it slopped onto his lap, followed by chunks of steak. ‘Get off me!’ he cried and tried to swat away what could have been hot coals dropping on him. With his mouth, hands and crotch on fire, or at least that’s how it felt to him, the private investigator went into panic. Despite the fact that the traffic lights were about to turn from red to green, he snapped off his seat belt, threw open the car door and jumped out while attempting to hold the front the fabric of his trousers away from his skin.

‘Are you OK there?’ asked a guy on the pavement, holding a Golf Sale sign like a downcast standard bearer.

Vernon English finished brushing himself down with the cap he had grabbed from his head. He glanced across with flushed cheeks and watering eyes.

‘Hot snack,’ is all he could bring himself to say at first, just as the cars ahead pulled away at the lights. ‘Shouldn’t be allowed!’

Sasha Savage felt as if she had just admitted to a murder. For several minutes after telling her grandfather about her developing a taste for vegetarian food, they had sat side by side upon his bed without looking at one another. Oleg simply stared across the room, barely blinking. Sasha was equally lost for words, for her confession had come from the heart. It was rare for her to have been so candid and raw, even with her friends, and it felt both awkward for her and a huge release. Only Katya kept the silence at bay as she gabbled to herself on the floor before them.

‘It’s just a thing,’ Sasha reasoned eventually. ‘It doesn’t change who I am.’

‘A carnivore,’ said Oleg, as if to remind her.

‘Maybe,’ said Sasha, and then dipped down to pull Katya’s sleeve away from her mouth. ‘Or… maybe not any more.’

When she rose up again, she found his attention had returned to the remains of the tofu he had taken from Katya.

‘What’s the attraction?’ he asked, and then shifted his gaze back to Sasha. ‘Truthfully?’

Sasha considered the question for a moment. She clasped her hands in her lap, well aware that there was no going back from this.

‘To begin with I did it for a boy,’ she said, facing little Kat. ‘But now I’m not sure what to think. I’ve gone without meat for a month, and if I’m brutally honest, I don’t miss it that much.’

Oleg nodded, still facing her side on.

‘How have you kept this from us?’ he asked quietly.

Sasha breathed out, focusing on the wall for a moment. It was one thing to admit to her dietary deviation. Revealing that she’d had in-house help was quite another.

‘Mum has been good to me,’ she said eventually, and grimaced to herself.

Oleg turned his attention to the wall across the room once more. He nodded to himself, shrugging at the same time.

‘She doesn’t want to lose you,’ replied Oleg. ‘She’s scared.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Sasha. ‘She just respects my decision.’

Oleg laughed dismissively.

‘Your decision,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re still a girl, Sasha.’

‘But I’m not,’ she said, determined not to back down now. ‘Grandpa, I’m nearly sixteen.’

‘You don’t know your own mind yet,’ he scoffed.

‘But I’m old enough to make my own mistakes and learn from them.’

Her response hung in the air. It left Oleg looking at her searchingly. She knew full well that her grandfather had spent much of his life devoted to a pursuit that he believed brought the family together. He had seen his own son adopts his values, and now here she was, turning away from everything he stood for.

‘Are you happy?’ he asked, in barely a whisper.

‘Totally.’ Sasha smiled to herself. ‘It feels like the right thing to do.’

Oleg placed his palms on his knees. For a moment, he and his eldest grandchild watched his youngest at play.

‘This family is bound by a tradition,’ he said. ‘Feasting is what keeps us tight. It stops us from drifting apart.’

‘I know that,’ said Sasha. ‘But I’m not just a Savage. I’m me.’

Just then, Katya noticed that her grandfather was still holding the tofu. The toddler reached up for it, screeching enthusiastically. At first Oleg seemed reluctant to let her have it. Finally, her persistence paid off. With a resigned sigh, he offered it to her.

‘I know how it feels to go without,’ he said eventually. ‘It takes discipline and willpower.’

‘Tell me about it,’ replied Sasha. ‘The whole bacon thing is killing me.’

Her grandfather glanced around at her.

‘I would struggle without human flesh just once in a while, especially tongue. Pan-seared with just a twist of Szechuan pepper.’ He stopped there to kiss his thumb and two fingers. ‘It’s all I ask for in life nowadays. That and the wellbeing of my son, his wife and their children.’

Sasha laughed despite herself.

‘So, does this mean you understand?’

‘Times change,’ he said, as a note of some sadness entered his voice. ‘Things that once felt so important can become left behind. If giving up meat makes you truly happy, then so be it. Just so long as you don’t give up on family.’

‘I’m more concerned that they’ll give up on me,’ Sasha admitted.

Oleg nodded, knowing just what she meant.

‘Your father will find it unthinkable for sure,’ he said. ‘He believes it is his duty to pass on the family way from one generation to the next.’

‘So, how will I win him over?’

‘You can’t just tell him as you told me,’ her grandfather said. ‘To convince him that you’ll always be a Savage, no matter what you eat, you’ll have to show him.’

Sasha found herself nodding as he spoke. She wasn’t entirely sure how she might demonstrate her commitment. She figured it would just come to her in time.

‘I’ll give it my best shot,’ she said, before leaning across to kiss her grandfather on the cheek. His beard prickled madly, but it was a heartfelt gesture. ‘Thank you,’ she added. ‘It means a lot.’

Oleg pressed his fingers to where she had planted her lips.

‘Are you hungry now?’ he asked. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Want something to eat?’ Sasha rose from the edge of the bed. ‘We’re all out of tofu, thanks to Kat, but I know there’s some hummus hiding at the back of the fridge. That’s if you’d like to try something different.’

‘Why not?’ said Oleg, who accepted Sasha’s hand as he struggled to rise. ‘I’ve done it once before, after all.’

21

Jack Greenway pulled up outside the Savage house. The engine cut out automatically. Ivan looked across at him, releasing his seatbelt at the same time.

‘So, you’re not going back to finish your pizza?’

‘Eh?’ Jack looked at him with one hand on the wheel still. Then he realised why the boy thought he hadn’t just pulled up to drop him off. ‘The car is still running,’ he told him. ‘It’s just being fuel efficient.’

‘Right,’ said Ivan, with complete disinterest. ‘Anyway, thanks for the ride.’

‘Is your sister home, do you think?’

Jack’s question caused Ivan to pause as he opened the passenger door.

‘Most likely.’

‘Then maybe I’ll come in with you,’ he said, and unplugged the car key. As much as he wanted to rush back to the pizza restaurant, Jack needed to check that Ivan wasn’t going to break their deal and tell Sasha about the young woman he hoped would still be waiting for him. ‘After what we’ve been through,’ he told the boy, ‘I could use a cup of that nice tea you made just to calm my nerves.’

The pair had driven around town for twenty minutes after losing their tail. Jack wanted to be absolutely sure they were no longer being followed. After a short time, turning at random at junctions and roundabouts, he had even questioned whether they were being followed at all. What would anyone want with a kid like Ivan? Even a creepy weirdo would find the boy unsettling, no matter what his intentions.

‘It doesn’t look like Mum and Dad are in,’ said Ivan, gesturing at the empty driveway.

Jack wasn’t disappointed to hear this. He found both Mr and Mrs Savage somewhat intense. That evening he had come round to collect Sasha, he discovered that every time he glanced at one of them they were already looking at him.

‘That’s a shame,’ he said all the same. ‘Your parents are sweet.’

Ivan glanced at Jack. He looked like he was going to say something, but then seemed to think better of it.

‘They look out for us,’ he said instead, and opened up the front door. ‘Are you sure you want the same tea as last time?’

‘Sure do.’ Jack followed him inside. ‘So, will you tell your parents about the van?’

‘Of course,’ said Ivan. ‘Whoever it is will be sorry. My dad will make sure of that.’

As the boy led the way through the hallway, voices could be heard from the kitchen. Jack recognised Sasha’s laugh, and a shriek from her younger sister. It was a surprise to find her grandfather in their company, looking like he’d travelled from the past to join them. Both he and Sasha were working on something at the kitchen counter. With their backs to the door, it was only Katya who registered that they were in company. She sat on the floor behind them, and gurgled as the two boys filed in.

‘Hey there,’ said Jack. ‘What’s cooking?’

‘What?’ Sasha spun around, followed by her grandfather. Seeing Ivan with him, they both spread their arms as if attempting to hide something behind them. ‘You startled us!’

‘Evidently,’ said Ivan, who calmly crossed the kitchen for a better look.

‘That’s close enough!’ cried Sasha. ‘Seriously, you don’t want to see this.’

Ivan stopped in his tracks. He tipped his head, straining to see what was on the counter.

‘Is this a feast?’ he asked, with just a glance over his shoulder at Jack.

‘Back off, my boy,’ his grandfather warned, jabbing a finger at the same time. ‘It isn’t what you think.’

Sasha stood with her eyes wide open. She glanced at Ivan, then Jack, before swinging round to the toddler on the floor.

‘Cheese!’ cried Kat. ‘Cheese!’

‘Did she say cheese?’ asked Ivan. ‘Mince is her only word.’

‘It’s a new one,’ said Sasha. ‘She’s expanded her vocabulary.’

‘Well, that’s great!’ declared Jack. ‘Good choice, Katya.’

‘Cheese!’

With everyone’s attention trained on the toddler, Sasha seized her moment. Without turning, and using one hand, she swept everything behind her into the waste disposal unit.

‘What is that?’ asked Ivan, who looked up smartly as Sasha hit the switch and the unit started grinding. ‘You’re hiding something. What is it?’

‘Cheese!’

This time, it was Oleg who attempted to regain control of the situation.

‘Kat just told you.’ Stepping forward, he looked his grandson in the eye. ‘It’s halloumi, to be precise. We were just about to grill some for a salad.’

‘With mint is good,’ suggested Jack, only to find himself ignored.

‘Halloumi,’ repeated Ivan, as if to be sure he’d heard it right. ‘And that is what?’

‘It’s quite salty,’ Jack persisted, hoping to be helpful. ‘Vegetarians love it, but it’s off the menu for me nowadays. I don’t do goat’s cheese or any other dairy product. It’s a vegan thing.’

Jack stopped there, anticipating some attention or even respect. Instead, Ivan continued to stare at the pair across the kitchen.

‘This salad,’ he said eventually. ‘Does it contain any meat? Some chicken, perhaps?’

Oleg held his gaze for a moment longer before shaking his head.

‘None at all,’ he said. ‘Sasha hasn’t eaten meat for the last month.’

‘You can thank me for that,’ said Jack, and touched his chest with one hand. ‘Didn’t I tell you there’d be no going back?’

‘Jack,’ said Sasha quietly, and flashed him a look of anger. ‘Not now.’

This wasn’t an expression he had seen in her before. There was something ferocious, even barbarian, behind her eyes. Jack’s first thought was that she couldn’t be serious.

‘That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend,’ he said. ‘Have some respect.’

In response, and without a blink, Sasha reached for the paring knife on the counter. Jack waited for her to go back to slicing the halloumi. Instead, and it took a second for him to comprehend this, she stepped right up to him. Even with the blade just resting casually at her side, Sasha looked completely different to him. She said nothing, didn’t even appear to be aware of what she was holding, and yet she possessed this purpose and intensity to her gaze that Jack didn’t like one bit.

All of a sudden, the girl he had regarded as a plaything and a project now faced him as a threat.

‘But you made it through the month,’ he insisted, hoping that by returning to the subject that started all this Sasha would come back to her senses. ‘You crossed over,’ he added, spreading his hands to reason with her. ‘Welcome to my world!’

‘No,’ said Ivan, in a way that drew Jack’s attention straight away. Despite the air of calm in his voice, the boy’s eyes were hardened just like Sasha’s, to the point where they looked like they could turn to flint. ‘Welcome to ours.’

The mole stood before Titus Savage looking utterly betrayed. Here was the man who had risked everything to provide inside information on the company’s fortunes, and this is how he was being repaid.

‘You’re firing me?’ he asked in disbelief, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘But you promised me a job at the end of all this.’

‘There aren’t any jobs,’ said Titus. ‘I’m breaking up the business and selling off what’s left. It’s worth more to me like that.’

‘Mr Savage. This isn’t what we agreed.’

Titus was sitting behind the Chief Executive’s desk. The office had glass walls. It looked out across an open-plan floor, much of which was in the process of being emptied.

‘So, what are you going to do?’ he asked finally. ‘Complain that I haven’t kept my side of a completely illegal agreement with you?’

The mole had no response. He didn’t want to go to jail, even if Titus went with him.

‘Please,’ he said eventually, his voice small and wavering.

Titus didn’t look up, focusing instead on signing transportation documents.

‘Are you still here?’ he asked eventually. ‘Don’t make me call for security.’

‘Security has gone,’ said the mole. ‘You fired them as well.’

‘Did I?’ Titus set down his pen. Then he rose to his feet, towering over the man across the desk from him. ‘You’ll appreciate that if I have to escort you from the building it will involve less than professional methods.’

‘But you swore to me that I’d be safe,’ said the mole, who took a step backwards. ‘Please! What do I tell my wife? My children? Everything I’ve done hasn’t left me feeling good about myself, but it’s all been for them!’

Titus continued to glower at him, but said nothing for a moment. It was as if this final plea was something he couldn’t ignore. Finally, with a sigh, he reached for his inside pocket.

‘Are they still good, your kids?’ he asked, having produced a cheque book which he slapped onto the desk. ‘How old are they now?’

‘Eight, twelve and nearly fourteen,’ said the mole, clearly sounding as if his mouth had turned bone dry. ‘Three girls.’

‘Three girls!’ Titus looked up, beaming broadly, which took the mole by surprise. It just seemed completely at odds with the level of wilful cruelty the man could display. ‘You must be proud of them.’

The mole shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

‘I am,’ he said, watching Titus scribble out a cheque. ‘But it’s my responsibility to support them, and give them the best start in life that I can.’

Titus tore off the cheque he’d just completed and handed it to him.

‘You take good care of those little ladies,’ he said, ignoring the man’s sudden intake of breath. ‘Before you know it they’ll be grown up and gone. Now leave the building. You have two minutes. Disappear!’

With a sum in his hand that comfortably exceeded any redundancy package, the mole did exactly as instructed. Titus watched him hurry towards the lift. Then, leaving the desk, he stood at the door to the office. The floor could support one hundred workers. Right now, just two were at their stations. Both were packing up, shocked into moving in slow motion at such a sudden turn of events. Titus was a ruthless operator. He knew that. It’s how he’d made his name in the City. Not that it brought him much joy at that moment.

‘Is this it?’ he asked himself, looking around at the abandoned office. Everything from the desks to the computers, the phone system and the television clusters would be sold off in due course. In his business, this was a great achievement. Just then, Titus felt as empty as the floor itself.

This wasn’t like creating a work of art or conquering a mountain. Yes, he’d achieved another goal, but what did it bring him except for money? Seeing his father’s mind begin to misfire had prompted him to question what mattered in life. It had come as quite a shock to him, having grown up believing that being at the top of the food chain somehow insured them against death. Titus knew his father wouldn’t live forever, of course, but Oleg’s moments of confusion brought things closer to home now, as had the demise of Lulabelle Hart.

Ever since he’d deposited the body over the cliff edge, Titus had found himself questioning what was really important in life. Time was precious, so it seemed to him just then. At any moment, everything could just be snatched away without warning. He’d taken no pleasure from what had happened to the model. It had been senseless. A terrible waste. In his view, killing could only ever be justified if it served a useful purpose. So long as it was carried out humanely, and the body brought everybody together at the table, Titus could sleep at night, which was something he’d been struggling with since he had zipped up the empty holdall and trudged back to his car. The only occasion when he felt fulfilled and at peace, now he thought about it, was when his family were gathered around him.

Titus remained at the office door for a moment, lost in thought, and then dismissed this quiet crisis with a chuckle. ‘There’s only way to move on,’ he told himself. ‘With a feast.’

It was his mobile that was next to grab his attention. The message came from his eldest daughter, as marked by the special ringtone she had programmed into his phone. Titus collected it from his desk. He stared at the screen for a while, reading it through several times, before deciding with both eyes brimming that it was time to call it a day.

22

The agency office was a far cry from the interiors they represented. On dropping in after lunch with her husband, Angelica Savage had found it cramped and over-furnished, but Marsha didn’t seem to mind. She was more concerned about the welfare of her client’s children following the tragedy that had occurred soon after the last shoot.

‘We’re working through it as a family,’ Angelica had assured her, before politely enquiring when the next booking might be. In private, things were getting desperate when it came to the interest on her credit card. It was the stress surrounding the death and disposal of the model that had driven her back to the shops. That’s how she had dealt with it, but now she was paying the price. Angelica badly needed the house to keep working for her in order to pay off the instalments. Not that she could admit that under such sensitive circumstances. Instead, by suggesting that Lulabelle wouldn’t wish the agency to be out of pocket for her actions, she had finally persuaded Marsha that it would be better for everyone if they hired out the ground floor sooner rather than later. ‘It’s what Lulabelle would’ve wanted,’ Angelica had finished, lowering her gaze respectfully when Marsha finally opened her bookings diary.

To celebrate, because she had earned it, Angelica returned home with several boutique shopping bags in her grasp. For a short time, a little spending like this would leave her in a shining mood. So, when she opened the front door to find Jack Greenway making his way from the kitchen towards her, she was genuinely pleased to see him.

‘What a nice surprise,’ she said, only to realise that Jack looked like he was about to throw up. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Your son,’ he snapped without stopping. ‘He needs his head testing.’

Angelica stepped aside to let him pass. She watched him grab his coat, just as Sasha rushed after him. Her daughter looked as if she was chasing after an event that had somehow escaped from her control. Angelica noted her leaving a knife behind on the hall table as she followed Jack into the hallway. Judging by her daughter’s air of panic, it looked to her as if Sasha wished she’d never picked it up in the first place. Then she called after him, which was when Angelica realised something more immediate had prompted him to hurry out for air.

‘Ivan was only joking!’ Sasha pleaded. ‘He didn’t really lace your tea with chicken stock last time you were here. At least I don’t think he did. Jack, please!’

When he responded by slamming the front door behind him, Sasha stopped and grimaced in frustration.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Angelica. ‘Not another practical joke?’

Outside, the sound of Jack’s hybrid could be heard starting up and then pulling away with just a hint of a squeal from the wheels.

‘Ivan is upset,’ said Sasha, before hanging her head. ‘He found out that I’ve gone meat free. Jack tried to take all the credit, so Ivan turned on him.’

Angelica glanced at the blade on the table.

‘How about you?’ she asked.

Sasha followed her line of sight. She looked a little sheepish.

‘I think Jack finally realises that I make my own decisions.’

‘I see.’ Angelica set her bags down under the coat rack. ‘Well, at least the month is almost up. You don’t need to prove yourself any more.’

Sasha looked away from her mother for a moment.

‘I’m not sure I want to go back to my old ways,’ she said, and glanced at the front door.

‘You’re a Savage,’ said Angelica sharply. ‘Savages don’t live on lettuce alone.’

‘Mum, you know it’s not like that. I’ve eaten well these last few weeks.’

‘No thanks to me. The lengths I’ve gone to keep this from your father, simply because I thought it was a passing phase. And now you’re telling me you want to make it a permanent arrangement?’ Angelica spoke quickly, which told Sasha she was cross.

‘For now,’ she said all the same. ‘Grandpa has been very supportive.’

‘Oleg knows? Dear God!’

‘I was fixing him a halloumi salad when Ivan walked in.’ Sasha gestured towards the kitchen. ‘Katya was with us. She’s hungry, too.’

Angelica grasped her daughter by the wrist and fixed her with a searching gaze.

‘Tell me you haven’t turned my baby,’ she said.

‘Kat is fine!’ Sasha wriggled in her grip. ‘She‘s been chewing on a chunk of bean curd but it’s hardly going to kill her.’

Without word, Angelica hurried for the kitchen. There, Ivan was picking apart the grilled halloumi as if performing a dissection. Oleg had taken himself to the table, from where he stared through the French windows seemingly lost in thought. On seeing her mother, Katya scrambled across the floor towards her.

‘Cheese! Cheese! Mince, mince, cheese!’

‘What have they done to you?’ she asked, gathering the toddler in her arms.

‘Can you believe people actually eat this?’ Ivan turned to face his mother with a carving knife in hand. ‘Imagine what Sasha’s insides must look like.’

‘Now you put the knife down, too,’ Angelica said calmly. ‘And apologise to your sister for upsetting her boyfriend.’

‘I didn’t upset him,’ said Ivan, still clutching the blade. ‘I just pointed out that he wasn’t as meat free as he believed.’

‘You shouldn’t have put stock in his tea,’ said Angelica. ‘It’s important to have respect for people. Sometimes even vegetarians.’

‘Your mother is right,’ said Oleg, stirring suddenly. ‘It doesn’t matter what she chooses to eat, Sasha will always be your sister.’

Ivan switched his attention back to Angelica. The boy looked cornered, almost betrayed.

‘Wait until I tell Dad,’ he said, before dropping the knife in the sink and rushing for the door.

Sasha looked from her grandfather to her mother, and then crossed to the kitchen counter where she had left her phone. Having caused such an upheaval in the home, and dreading how her father would react if he ever found out, she had a sudden urge to assure him that one thing would never change.

Vernon English had parked just in front of a litter bin. He opened his car window, balled the chocolate bar wrapper in his fist and took aim.

‘Bullseye,’ he declared, as the wrapper passed clean through the opening. It was a small achievement, but a first for the day given the disastrous collapse of a piping-hot pasty in his lap. Vernon celebrated with a small air punch, and then settled back to continue listening in on the conversation taking place in the Savage kitchen.

Having committed himself to investigating a possible link between the family and the discovery of a body at the foot of Beachy Head, it was frustrating to hear yet another heated exchange about food. What was it with these people? he thought to himself. Everyone needs to eat but the Savages took it to an extreme. Over recent weeks he’d overheard the eldest daughter and her mother conspiring to smuggle in vegetarian food and hide it in the cupboards and the fridge, but the secrecy just didn’t make any sense. So, Sasha was ditching meat from her diet. It wasn’t uncommon for a girl her age, but hardly comparable to witchcraft. Vernon had struggled to understand what it was she had to hide. Now her brother and her grandfather were wise to the situation and suddenly the world was coming to an end in there.

‘So, what’s Titus going to do?’ he asked, as if addressing those left in the kitchen after Ivan had walked out. ‘Force feed her pork pies?’

‘I’m sorry you had to be involved,’ he heard Angelica say, presumably addressing the old man, Oleg. ‘I was hoping Sasha would get it out of her system. It seems I was wrong.’

‘Don’t blame yourself,’ replied Oleg. ‘It’s Ivan we should be concerned about.’

‘He’s going to tell Dad,’ said Sasha. ‘I might as well pack my bags right now.’

‘Let’s not overreact,’ said Angelica. ‘So long as he doesn’t think the whole family is in on this, he’s less likely to explode.’

‘Cheese! Cheese!’

Vernon listened to the speaker crackle and pop for several seconds, which marked the abrupt silence that followed Katya’s contribution. Yet again, the private investigator was left baffled as to why someone’s dietary choice should be the cause of such high drama. As Angelica, Sasha and Oleg went on to discuss the best way to break the news to Titus that his firstborn had forgone meat, Vernon sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and sought to work out just what it was that none of them would put into words.

Titus Savage was not unhappy to find himself caught on a tube in the rush hour. He was a tall man, which allowed him to stand head and shoulders over everyone else. It also meant that he could pick off a passenger and assess their quality at close quarters.

On this occasion, as he headed home from the office, Titus loomed over a lean, middle-aged man with a grey crop and matching stubble. The guy was a distance runner, Titus decided, judging by the tanned face and lack of much fat around the midriff. Still, at that age you couldn’t help but timber up. A little padding on lean meat was the perfect combination.

Ultimately, it stopped a cut from drying out in the pan.

It was a short walk home from the station. With some heat and light still left in the day, Titus swung his jacket over his shoulder and wondered what might be for supper. They hadn’t eaten pork in quite a while. As both Ivan and Sasha appreciated a little kick to their meat, he hoped that Angelica would agree that a Thai was in order. Approaching his house, Titus decided that even if it meant he had to pop out to the superstore for a few ingredients, it would be worth the effort. Nothing compared to a feast, of course, but as a midweek meal it would be something they could enjoy as a family. What Titus didn’t expect, on passing a rundown van, was to hear the voices of his wife and daughter discussing the contents of the cupboard. He slowed to a halt, just behind the driver’s door, and realised that it was coming from a speaker inside the vehicle. He didn’t stop to listen in. Instead, he walked on casually, switching his jacket from one shoulder to the next before finding his front door keys.

23

Ivan Savage had been waiting for his father to return home. As soon as he heard the door open, he raced to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Dad, there’s something you need to know!’

In response, Titus raised his palm and then signalled with a finger to the lips for his son to shut the hell up. Next he found his phone and quickly dashed out a message with his thumbs. As soon as he had finished, Titus showed Ivan the screen.

‘But it’s important,’ Ivan pleaded, only to fall quiet when his father glowered at him, and then follow sulkily in his footsteps as he hurried into the kitchen. There, Titus showed Angelica and Sasha the screen. Both looked up at him smartly, while Titus did his level best to signal that they should talk as normal. He then crouched before Oleg, whose eyesight wasn’t what it once was, and whispered in his ear.

‘So,’ Angelica began hesitantly. ‘How has your day been?’

‘Oh, you know,’ said Titus, who began to scour the kitchen for the listening device. ‘The same as ever. Nothing much to report.’ He paused to run his fingers under the cupboards. ‘How did you get on with the agency?’

Angelica took a moment to compose herself.

‘They’re as shaken up by the tragedy as all of us,’ she said. ‘How sad to think that poor woman was in our house all day. If only we’d known what despair she was in, we might’ve been able to help her.’

Sasha looked from her mother to her father, who continued to scour the kitchen.

‘If only,’ she echoed, simply to fill the silence, before glowering at her brother.

‘Anyway,’ said Angelica, keen to move off the subject before someone spoke out of turn. ‘The agency has booked the house for another shoot. We’ll have to make ourselves scarce in a few weeks from now.’

Titus rolled his eyes, and continued to sweep the room in search of the listening device. Ivan watched him run his hands around the rim of the French windows. It was then his sister crossed over to the cupboard alcove beside him. She did so with a purpose, as if something had sprung to mind that told Sasha exactly where she would find it. Titus stopped in his tracks and watched as she opened the little door. The space contained the gas meter. Sasha inspected it closely, looking underneath it and then at each side in turn. Finally, she stepped away, grinning victoriously at her family. Titus took one look for himself and headed directly for the knife drawer.

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, and selected his favourite carving knife. ‘There’s something I need to grab for supper.’

Ivan looked delighted as his father marched from the kitchen. He followed close behind, despite Angelica’s hushed instruction to stay put. Titus wrenched open the front door. The light from outside immediately cast him in silhouette from behind, but for the glint of the blade in his grasp.

‘Do it, Dad!’ cried Ivan, who wasn’t quite sure what he intended, but found himself completely caught up in the moment. In the street, he heard an engine gun into life. Titus rushed for the road, with his son close behind. Ivan just caught sight of the van’s driver as he struggled to find first gear. The guy faced his father looking surprised and a little bit scared. Ivan just stopped in his tracks and pointed at the vehicle as it finally sped away

‘It’s him again,’ he declared. ‘He wants me.’

Titus turned to face his son. He looked different to Ivan just then. It was as if inner thunderclouds had gathered behind his eyes, which narrowed when he asked the boy to explain himself. As he did so, Angelica, Sasha and even Oleg had arrived at the front door. Angelica held Katya in her arms, but her attention was focused on Titus.

‘Come inside with the carving knife,’ she said calmly, and looked around to be sure that the neighbours weren’t watching.

Titus switched his attention to Sasha.

‘How did you know to look at the gas meter?’ he asked.

‘I remembered a man came to read it,’ she told him. ‘He said that Kat was cute.’

‘Cheese!’

Ivan was alone in taking great delight in the toddler’s sudden outburst. Titus looked pained, for a very different reason than Sasha, his wife and grandfather.

‘It seems Katya really is finding her voice,’ he said slowly.

‘Goodness knows where she got that from,’ said Angelica, whose smile for the child in her arms looked a little forced to Ivan. ‘Cheese and ham, darling. Say ham.’

Holding the carving knife loose against his leg, Titus made his way back to the house.

‘I believe this means it’s time we welcomed Katya into the family way,’ he said, stopping to pet the little girl. ‘Now that her teeth are through and she’s talking, she needs to know her roots. It’ll help her to recognise that we Savages stick together no matter what life throws at us.’

‘A feast,’ said Oleg, who clearly relished the word, much to Sasha’s discomfort.

Titus seemed not to notice. Instead, he drew his only son to his side, glanced down the road to be sure the van had gone, and then clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You’ll always be safe in my care,’ he said, before addressing his whole family. ‘And I think we all know who should be on the menu.’

Amanda Dias had been privately amused when Jack bailed from the pizza restaurant. Whatever the kid at the window wanted, it was obvious to her that he was calling all the shots. Jack hadn’t even offered an excuse. He’d simply rushed back for his coat, and left her with a series of half-finished apologies and a plea to catch up again very soon. Fortunately, he had told Amanda that he was a regular at the restaurant, given its impeccable vegetarian credentials. Sure enough, after she had finished her pizza, as well as what was left on his plate, the waiter assured her that Jack would settle the bill later.

He was a little young for Amanda, but then she had no time for boyfriends at this moment in her life. There was a cause out there that needed her leadership. So many of her so-called friends had walked away as her views began to harden, but nothing could shake her belief that eating any animal product was fundamentally wrong and punishable. Jack was certainly attractive for his age, but Amanda was more interested in his potent mix of narcissism and enthusiasm for her crusade. As a result, she wasn’t flattered but intrigued when he approached her for lunch. Could this be the opportunity, she had thought to herself, to put her militant views into practice? It was something Amanda reflected on afterwards as she stopped by the market to shop for provisions. For too long, defenceless animals had been abused or slaughtered by man and served up on a plate. Cows, pigs, sheep and poultry were sentenced to appease our appetite through no fault of their own. Even the oceans provided no safe haven. In Amanda’s view, it left people like her with no choice but to wage war on the predators. Unlike any other species on this planet, humans possessed the intelligence to make choices about what they ate. Food had to come with a conscience, she believed, and if people wouldn’t listen they would have to pay the price.

Naturally, Amanda wasn’t stupid. She had no intention of actually taking a life. That was down to the foot soldiers. Those who possessed the will, perhaps, but required a little guidance and encouragement to fulfil their true calling. Jack Greenway struck her as an impressionable young man with potential. Clearly, he had designs on sleeping with her, but that was also something she could use to her advantage. Amanda smiled to herself as she pondered her plan on the bus journey back to the university campus. She was well aware that grooming him would require a promise of quite a reward, and then decided on arriving outside her hall of residence that it had to be worth the investment.

This was largely down to the fact that Jack Greenway was waiting for her at the main doors. Standing beside his hybrid, he looked restless, wired, and a little nervous, all of which seemed to melt away when Amanda beamed at him.

24

Sometimes, Vernon English was thankful that he lived alone. His marriage had crashed long ago, but at least he was free to transform the lounge in his flat into an incident room without being made to take down all the photographs and notes he’d taped to the wall. This wasn’t something he’d done before, but the Savage case was beginning to consume him.

‘What am I missing?’ he asked himself, sitting back on his sofa with his feet on the coffee table. The wall opposite was plastered with long-range snaps of the family, including Oleg and Jack Greenway, as well as magazine adverts featuring Lulabelle Hart. He’d pencilled arrows between some pictures, and on others added colour-coded cards with his thoughts on them. Most made sense at the time. Looking at it all now, the private investigator could be sure of only one thing: he’d need a professional decorator to restore the room once he’d cracked this case.

Leaning forward, with his eyes locked on the wall, Vernon reached for the burrito in the box on the table. It had been cold for some time, but even though he’d been distracted he wasn’t going to give up on it. Chewing on his takeaway supper, the private investigator focused his attention on the section of the wall devoted to Titus Savage. The man was behind the death of the model, and he would not rest until he’d uncovered evidence to prove it.

At the same time, Vernon could not ignore the fact that he was a little jealous. Titus was a success in the City, where being ruthless was basically a virtue, while at home he showed a different side entirely and his family clearly adored him for it.

‘Some people have it all,’ he muttered, and eased himself to his feet. ‘Others make do with the leftovers.’

Taking himself to the window overlooking the pound shop on the high street with the sale on, Vernon pressed his forehead to the glass and sighed. He kept a handful of pictures in simple wooden frames on the ledge in front of him. All of them were taken during his marriage, from the honeymoon to the last Christmas they’d spent together. In each one, the face of his ex-wife had been carefully obliterated with marker pen. As far as he was concerned, she no longer existed. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to deny himself the fact that he had once shared his life with someone special. He picked up one of the frames and studied it. Had things worked out between them, he too could’ve been a loving father. Whatever Titus hid from the world, Vernon English could only begrudgingly admire his commitment in building a family and keeping it together.

‘What is your secret?’ Replacing the picture on the ledge, Vernon returned his attention to the wall. His eyes darted from one image to another, following pencil trails and then imagining fresh alternatives. Yet again, it just looked like a tangled mess. Vernon turned away, his thoughts switching to the possibility that there might be some hot sauce in the kitchen cupboard, and then came around full circle. ‘There it is,’ he said, and took a step back to gain some perspective. This time, he didn’t focus on individual surveillance shots or his scribbled hunches. He just stared at the little gap at the very heart of it all. All of a sudden, it looked like the eye of the storm. Vernon grabbed a pen from the top of the TV and scribbled one word in the space. He underlined it with a slash before standing back once again. Everything he had discovered about the family was tied to it in some way. What he’d missed until now was that it had to include the death of Lulabelle Hart.

‘Food,’ declared Vernon, reading it out loud as if that might help bring him clarity. It didn’t prove anything, but just then there was something in it that the private investigator pledged to pick apart. ‘Food is the key,’ he said with some confidence, and glanced at a shot of Titus once more, ‘or I’ll eat my words.’

A cheer broke out from the boys who had gathered on one side of the skateboard ramp. One of their number had just pulled a frontside five-forty turn. It was an impressive trick, but went completely ignored by the girls opposite. Sasha Savage, Maisy and Faria sat across from them with their backs turned, elbows flat on the safety rail and their feet dangling over the drop. They were on lunch break, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

‘You’re quiet,’ Faria said to Sasha. ‘Everything all right?’

‘I’m good,’ Sasha replied. ‘Just hungry.’

Faria offered her a cigarette.

‘It’ll kill your appetite,’ she said. ‘And then some.’

Sasha smiled but declined the offer.

‘She’s waiting for Jack,’ said Maisy, and flashed them both a look. ‘It would be rude to eat now if he’s planning on sharing his lunchbox with you.’

Everyone giggled at this, including Sasha.

‘Seriously, he’s been good like that,’ said Faria. ‘Why can’t he do the same thing for us two?’

‘Because we eat meat,’ Maisy said, as if to remind her. ‘Plus he doesn’t fancy us.’

‘How do you know?’

‘When was the last time you saw the inside of his car? Sasha’s the only one who gets a ride in there.’

‘Maisy!’ Sasha pretended to look scandalised, only for Faria to adopt a charitable expression. Sasha picked up on it straight away. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ Faria replied quickly, but found she couldn’t escape Sasha’s gaze. ‘Probably nothing, anyway.’

‘What nothing?’ asked Sasha.

Faria sighed to herself.

‘My sister saw him at the weekend,’ she said. ‘He was up at the university campus. Dropping off some girl.’

Faria stopped there and turned to Sasha as if perhaps she could provide an explanation.

‘Jack was upset with me the last time I saw him,’ she said, thinking back to that moment in the house, ‘but he wouldn’t do that.’

‘It was his hybrid,’ insisted Faria. ‘For sure.’

Sasha held Faria‘s searching gaze for a moment more, and then broke off with a shrug.

‘You don’t seem too concerned,’ said Maisy.

‘It’s probably something to do with his new vegan regime,’ said Sasha. ‘Jack is taking things much further with his food than I’m prepared to go, but I’m sure he’ll have an explanation. I’ll ask when I see him.’

‘Why was he upset with you?’ asked Faria.

‘Not me as such,’ said Sasha. ‘My brother confessed to a practical joke he’d played on him.’

Both Faria and Maisy sucked the air between their teeth.

‘Did Jack suffer any injuries?’ Faria enquired.

‘He’ll survive,’ said Sasha, and winced to herself at the memory of the knife she’d pulled without thinking.

‘Whatever the case, he’s late,’ said Maisy, checking the time on her phone. ‘He’s usually here for you by now.’

Leaving straight after morning lessons, Jack Greenway’s journey from school to the university took twenty minutes. The journey was unplanned, but he felt compelled to catch up with the young woman who had moved into his thoughts. Amanda Dias wasn’t hard for him to track down. He found her handing out leaflets at the main entrance to campus.

‘Do you drink milk?’ she asked Jack when he trotted up to greet her.

‘Sometimes,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I should stop that, too, shouldn’t I?’

‘It would be kinder on cattle to drink their blood,’ she said. ‘Did you know that in some industrial dairies calves are forcibly removed from their mothers so they don’t drink from the udder. It might mean a higher volume of milk for the farmers, but how would you like to be taken from the teat?’

‘Me? Oh…’ Jack wasn’t sure if this was a direct question. He had planned a conversation on the way to campus, but mostly it involved what nice weather they were having. ‘I don’t know,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Thirsty?’

Amanda thrust a leaflet into his hands.

‘You’ll find all the facts here.’

Jack looked down at the leaflet, his focus swimming.

‘Give me a handful,’ he said. ‘I’ll hand them out at school.’

Finally, Amanda offered him a smile.

‘It’s good to see you,’ she said. ‘I enjoy our chats.’

For several days now, Jack had sought out Amanda and treated her to everything from coffee to lunch and supper. Every time they visited a café, bar or restaurant of her choosing. Jack spent much of the time just listening to her views on man’s crimes against the natural world. He made all the right noises as she laid out her vision for a vegan society, in which compassion towards animals replaced their suffering. He even kept up the enthusiasm when she talked about how to achieve her dream. Privately, all the stuff about waging war against the worst offenders Jack took with a pinch of salt. It was the force of her convictions he found entrancing, plus the fact that up close Amanda Dias was hot as hell.

‘I couldn’t wait until this evening,’ he said just then. ‘I needed to see you.’

Amanda handed a leaflet to a passing student. The guy tried to avoid it, but she was insistent.

‘I thought lunchtimes were reserved for your girlfriend,’ she said.

‘My girlfriend?’ Jack tried to look as baffled as possible. ‘Oh! You mean Sasha? She’s not really my girlfriend as such—’

‘Really? You looked like a couple at the lecture.’

‘We’re just, y’know…’

‘Friends?’

Jack grinned. After the episode in the Savages’ kitchen, he wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to speak to Sasha again. Her brother’s prank with the tea still made him feel queasy, and the kid would get a kicking for it at a later date, but above all he’d struggled to shake off the memory of that look she had given him. Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, and although he would never admit this Sasha had left him feeling a little bit frightened. The knife in her hand hadn’t helped, but he felt sure that wasn’t meant as a threat. After he’d left, she’d probably gone back to core an apple or something. Maybe chop some celery for that salad she’d been making.

‘I’ve been helping her to give up meat,’ he told Amanda, with some pride in his voice. Then he looked to the pavement and adopted a face as if what he had to say next was difficult. ‘We were good for a while, but… her family.’

He stopped there and twisted a finger against the side of his head. Now he had Amanda’s complete attention.

‘So, they didn’t like losing a carnivore?’

‘Exactly that, I guess,’ said Jack. ‘Her dad in particular had a real problem with it. He’s one of those old-school meat eaters. Can’t accept that there’s a better way of living.’

‘Would you kill him?’

The way she asked him this, in public and out of nowhere, took Jack’s breath away. He looked at Amanda, aghast for a moment, before checking he had heard her right.

‘Do you mean… for real?’

‘Absolutely.’ Amanda stepped closer so she could murmur in his ear. ‘It would bring me closer to you.’

Jack moved back to find her gaze once more. This fruit loop wasn’t joking, he thought to himself. The girl had it all worked out. She batted her eyelids at him, like the wings of a butterfly at rest.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said, despite having no intention of carrying out such a crime. ‘For you.’

Amanda brushed Jack’s cheek with her lips.

‘For the environment,’ she said to correct him. ‘For a better world.’

25

As a hunter, Titus Savage had learned everything from his father. Over the decades, Oleg taught him how to trap his quarry and finish it off both quickly and humanely. From an early age, Titus learned that a noble cannibal showed respect towards a victim. You didn’t eat them alive. That kind of thing was the stuff of myth and legend. A modern-day flesh eater carried out careful preparations with a view to serving up a dish to die for.

When it came to the kill, Titus considered himself a natural. As a boy, he’d taken to the pursuit with a perfectionist’s eye. It was something he had begun to pass on to his own son. In fact, as the family made plans for Katya’s celebratory feast, he intended to stand back and let Ivan do the honours. In a way, Titus decided, it would allow him to close the book on the accidental death of the model in the bathroom.

Firstly, however, Titus had to identify the person they intended for the plate.

‘This man,’ he said to Ivan and Sasha at breakfast time that week. ‘Can you describe him to me?’

Sasha thought back to the time he had entered the house disguised as a meter reader from the gas board.

‘Middle-aged,’ she said. ‘Tired-looking with quite a heavy-set face.’

‘He reminded me of a bloodhound,’ added Ivan. ‘Also he was wearing a hat when I saw him. Not a flat cap. Something funkier. A funky bloodhound.’

Titus looked across at Angelica.

‘Sound familiar?’ he asked.

‘Nobody we know,’ she said. ‘So how do we find him?’

Titus was at the French windows. He turned his back on his family for a moment, half wondering whether he should head upstairs and consult his father. Back in the day, Oleg would leave the house at sundown and work under cover of darkness. In the morning, his wife would find a body laid out on the table, naked, washed and shaved from head to toe. Always the romantic, Oleg would pin a note to the chest of the corpse using the tip of a knife, dedicating the coming feast to her. Nowadays, of course, it simply wasn’t necessary to go stalking back alleys for the drunks and the dispossessed. With access to the internet, it was perfectly possible for Titus to source someone of better quality who met their requirements perfectly. In particular, the social networks provided Titus with everything he needed to know about their health, wellbeing and background. He could work out their movements and, of course, assess friendships. Anyone too popular was off the menu. You didn’t want their disappearance to spark headlines, campaigns and vigils, just an entry in the missing persons register that would gather dust over time.

‘There’s only one thing we know for sure about this guy,’ said Ivan, who drew his father’s attention once more. ‘He’s sexually attracted to me.’

Titus sighed to himself.

‘I suspect that I’m his main person of interest,’ he said, before addressing Angelica once more. ‘This is business, I think.’

‘But Ivan may be on to something,’ she said. ‘Even if this does have something to do with your work, the fact is he followed our son.’

‘Because he’s the weakest link,’ suggested Sasha, who promptly received a kick under the table from her brother.

‘At least someone fancies me,’ he fumed. ‘When was the last time you saw your boyfriend? Even I’ve heard it’s finished, and nobody speaks to me at school!’

‘Mum,’ complained Sasha. ‘Tell him to stick to shifting chess pieces.’

‘Face it,’ grinned Ivan. ‘He’s over you.’

‘Lacing Jack’s tea hardly helped,’ she snapped at him.

Ivan sat back in his chair, considering his sister.

‘But if he has dumped you,’ he said next with a sly glance at their father, ‘does that mean you’ll give up with the sausage dodging?’

‘Mum!’

This time, Angelica responded by glaring at her son so fiercely that he visibly shrank in his seat. She had already spoken to Ivan about staying out of Sasha’s personal issues, and made it quite clear that there would be consequences if he breathed a word to his father. Angelica glanced across at Titus, who continued to be the only family member who wasn’t wise to Sasha’s newfound vegetarianism. Much to her relief, he seemed so lost in thought that he clearly hadn’t heard a word. It was only when Titus noticed that everyone was looking at him that he blinked back into the room.

‘Our boy can be the bait,’ he said after a moment, and then nodded to himself as if he had just road-tested the idea to see how it sounded.

‘What?’ All of a sudden, Ivan didn’t look so confident.

‘Like a goat tethered to a stake,’ suggested Sasha, but their father was on a roll.

‘You don’t have to worry,’ he assured the boy. ‘When our man comes prowling, we’ll be waiting for him. And that’s when he’ll learn how it feels to be preyed upon.’

Vernon English no longer needed an inside ear in the Savage household. The bug had served him well. Titus had probably destroyed it now, but not before the private investigator had heard enough to know that this was a family with one very strange obsession with food.

Given all the hushed conversations he had heard between Angelica and Sasha, it seemed they lived in fear of Titus finding out that his eldest daughter had turned her back on meat. At times, they made out the man was some kind of dietary dictator. Then there was the coroner’s report that Vernon had obtained. It was only a side note, but of major interest to the private investigator, for Lulabelle Hart had been secretly struggling with an acute, long-term eating disorder. Had the model crossed Titus because she didn’t conform to his views, and paid the ultimate price? It was a far-out theory, but not one that Vernon English could easily dismiss.

Once again, the private investigator was alone in the van with his thoughts. There was no way now that he could return to the Savage residence. That Titus had bundled out with what looked like a carving knife only strengthened Vernon’s suspicions that he was dealing with a dangerous man. Besides, Vernon was off duty at that moment. He’d just finished his weekly supermarket shopping. The bags he’d loaded onto the passenger seat contained a range of microwavable suppers that fuelled his work. He’d gone in with good intentions, but ultimately there was nothing in the fresh produce section that appealed. Leaning across, Titus buckled the bags against the seat for the journey back to the flat. Just then, however, it simply reminded him that he had nothing for company but a bunch of ready meals.

‘I wonder what Titus would make of my diet?’ he asked, addressing the shopping as he started up the engine. ‘Not that I have plans to invite him over to eat. You’re all mine, so rest easy.’

It was only as he pulled out of the car park that he realised he had forgotten to buy any ketchup. Unwilling to turn round, Vernon told himself that he would just have to nip out again later. For some time, he’d been meaning to do his shopping online. Only recently, while staking out the Savages, he’d watched a delivery van unloading a week’s groceries for the family. It looked like such a quick and easy way of getting a supermarket shop directly into the house, he reflected, and promptly hit the brakes hard as a plan of action sprang to mind. Several horns sounded behind him, but Vernon paid them no attention whatsoever.

‘Oh, man, you’re good,’ he told himself. With the horns still blaring, Vernon found first gear and moved off again. ‘It’s high time I saw what’s on the menu.’

Jack Greenway had thought long and hard about Amanda’s proposition. Murdering a man was crackers, of course. Still, he had another motive for meeting her in a coffee shop to go through the plan in more detail.

‘That’s an interesting bracelet,’ he said, looking for a way to make her feel special.

Amanda didn’t even glance at her wrist.

‘What you’re about to do takes courage,’ she said quietly, while stirring a vegan gingerbread latte. ‘Naturally, people will be horrified that you’ve taken someone’s life because of what they eat, but if it means they rise up against us then what we’ll have on our hands is a war!’

‘Right,’ said Jack, who was content to go along with Amanda just to see where it would take him. ‘Is that a good thing?’

‘We vegans are morally superior,’ she told him. ‘In a battle for hearts and minds, victory is ours for the taking, and it’ll all be thanks to the provocative actions of one brave soul…’ Amanda stopped there and held his gaze. ‘You’re about to change lives, Jack. Your place in history awaits you.’

Jack stirred his latte as he listened. Amanda had recommended the gingerbread drink, but frankly it didn’t look all that appealing. Still, that wasn’t why he was here. ‘What about afterwards?’ he asked hopefully. ‘Do I hide out in your hall of residence?’

Amanda smiled seductively. At least that’s how Jack tried to read it. In truth he wasn’t really sure.

‘Once the deed is done we’ll go online anonymously, claim responsibility, and then sit back and watch the flames rise.’

‘I see.’ Jack hoped the sitting back bit would take place in her bedroom. ‘Flames.’

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘you really don’t look like the sort of person with previous criminal convictions. Why should the police suspect you?’

Jack collected his cup in both hands, mindful of his outstanding library fine. Taking a sip, he reminded himself that he had no intention whatsoever of slaying Sasha’s father. He didn’t really think that Amanda was being serious. It was, without a doubt, the talk of a fantasist, Privately, he hoped she was the sort of person who got turned on by indulging in this kind of role play, and that was fine by him. The way Jack saw things, it would be perfectly possible for him to leave the Savage house claiming he had carried out the kill. Even if Amanda was being serious, he thought to himself, that would give him time to reap the rewards before she learned that somehow Titus had survived the attack. The girl was nuts, but just so sexy that it had to be worth playing along with her. The latte sloshed down his oesophagus, leaving an aftertaste of warm cardboard in his mouth.

‘Count me in,’ said Jack. ‘I’d be honoured to go into battle with you.’

‘Good boy,’ said Amanda, and found his ankle under the table with her foot. ‘When can you do it?’

‘Give me a little time,’ said Jack, thinking she would at least need to see him entering the Savage house. That meant he’d have to stop freezing out Sasha and pretend that all was still good between them. ‘As soon as I’m ready,’ he added, ‘you’ll be first to know.’

26

Angelica Savage began working on the menu with Katya in mind. This feast was in her honour, after all, and so it was important that the choices on offer appealed to her. Sasha found her mother at the kitchen table, with a notepad and pen in hand. She peered over her shoulder, reading the list with interest.

‘Liver pâté biscuit bites,’ she said hungrily. ‘Mum, don’t tempt me!’

Angelica looked round.

‘It would put an end to a lot of problems,’ she said. ‘At some point before this feast, we’re going to have to tell your father why you won’t be joining us.’

Sasha sighed and took the seat beside her. She placed her mobile phone on the table and set it to one side. Katya was in her high chair opposite. She was clutching a wooden spoon, which she dropped to reach across the table for her older sister’s hands.

‘I’ve tried to find the right moment,’ said Sasha, collecting the spoon from the floor, ‘but every time he’s been grumpy about work.’

‘No matter what you say he’ll go crazy,’ replied Angelica. ‘What’s important is that he doesn’t lose sight of the fact that you’re his daughter first and foremost, no matter what you choose to eat.’

Sasha watched her mother writing on the pad.

‘Honey-roast sticky ribs?’ Sasha grinned at Katya. ‘You’re going to love this, but it isn’t making it any easier for me.’

‘How about that thing I do with the loin?’ Angelica set down her pen. ‘The carpaccio?’

‘With plenty of basil and garlic?’ Sasha closed her eyes, as if the suggestion triggered memories of the taste. ‘Mum, you know how much I loved that when I was little!’

Angelica returned her attention to the list.

‘Maybe I should add it anyway,’ she said to herself, with just a glance back at her daughter. ‘Now, what would everyone else enjoy?’

For half an hour, both mother and daughter explored all the different dishes they could create from one human body. It was a time marked by a great deal of discussion and laughter, which came easily with little Katya sharing the table. Slowly, the list began to grow, as did a sense of warmth between the pair. It felt good to Sasha, just to be involved at this level, and she could see that Angelica felt the same way. When Sasha’s mobile rang, just as they were planning dessert, her first thought was to ignore it. Then she glanced at the caller name, and snatched it into her hands.

‘I need to go out,’ she said after a brief and hushed exchange. A hint of disappointment came into her mother’s expression. ‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Sasha added, before rushing from the room. ‘I promise!’

One week. That’s how long Titus Savage had asked his son to walk to and from school unaccompanied. Ivan didn’t usually mind travelling alone. With no friends, he was used to sitting on the bus or trudging along the pavement with his thoughts, but this was different. Some creep was out there stalking him.

‘It’s not you he’s interested in,’ his father kept assuring him. ‘I’m his man.’

‘But what if you’re wrong?’

‘I’ll be watching every step you make,’ said Titus. ‘All you have to do is trust me.’

Ivan had every faith in his father. He’d never let him down before. Even so, the boy took steps to protect himself. He didn’t like feeling threatened and though Titus swore he was close by, just waiting for their man, the boy still felt vulnerable. Such lack of control left him tense and edgy. Not once did he see the van in question, but that just made him more anxious. Back home, Ivan would fire up his war videogame and attempt to regain some sense of control by going on a virtual rampage. Even that didn’t stop the bad dreams. Slowly, his stalker invaded every aspect of his existence. On the final day of that week, when a figure stepped out from behind some bushes in the park, Ivan immediately moved to defend himself.

‘It’s me,’ said Titus, and promptly threw himself to one side as a dart-like electrode whizzed past his shoulder. ‘Hold your fire, Ivan! Put the Taser away!’

The boy had pulled the weapon without warning. It belonged to his father, who had only ever used it once to disable a victim before bundling him into the boot of the car. The Taser was effective at delivering a soul-sapping electric shock. Titus had picked it up from a security outfit he had stripped down and sold off. He had kept it hoping to keep up with the times, only to find he preferred a more traditional means of incapacitation.

‘You scared me,’ said Ivan, who began to reel in the dart by the wire that attached it to the weapon.

Titus looked one way and then other. They were in view of the playground. Fortunately, none of the parents and their children had noticed.

‘What were you thinking?’ he hissed, and retrieved the dart for him. ‘The hatch in the shed floor is sealed for good reason. We only break it before a feast.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Ivan had crouched to finish winding in the wire. He looked up at his father and blinked back tears. ‘I don’t want to be bait any more.’

Titus considered his son for a moment. Then he offered the boy his hand to help him back onto his feet.

‘We’ll find him,’ he promised. ‘Now put the Taser back in your bag and let’s go home.’

‘Good idea,’ said Ivan, and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his school jacket. ‘Will there be anything to eat when we get back?’

Titus smiled.

‘I’m hungry, too,’ he said. ‘It’s always the way before a feast. Your grandfather believes our body metabolism has learned to accelerate beforehand. He’s convinced we burn off excessive fat storage to make room for the flesh that follows.’

‘I feel it.’ Ivan placed a hand upon his belly. ‘It’s an ache that won’t go away. A cramp sometimes, too.’

Together, Titus and Ivan continued along the path. Titus placed his arm between his son’s shoulder blades, both to steer him in the right direction and offer him a sense of protection. They chatted as they walked. Titus talked about spending more time together. He was tiring of the City, so he said. There was nothing wrong with hard work, but if it ceased to be rewarding then it was time to seek out fresh challenges. As they made their way to the park gates, and then up the street towards home, Titus had convinced himself that it was something to discuss with Angelica. He was also well aware that the next feast couldn’t come soon enough. As ever, it would revive his spirits and help him to forge a way forward that put the family first. Seeing the grocery delivery van outside the house, however, left Titus with mixed feelings. His dear wife always worked so hard to put on a memorable spread, but by now he’d hoped to have taken care of the central ingredient.

‘The perishables have arrived,’ observed Titus, just a moment before a figure emerged from the driveway and climbed in through the side of the van.

At once, and without further word, both father and son stopped in their tracks.

Vernon English had waited several days for this moment. Loitering in the park, with the Savage house in view, he had tried his best not to invite suspicion. He pretended to read the paper on several benches, or simply pressed his mobile to his ear and had a long conversation with the imaginary person on the other end. Vernon was feeding the ducks when the grocery van trundled into view. Emptying his pockets of the remaining bread, he placed one hand on his cap to stop it from blowing free and broke into a brisk trot. It was only as he approached the vehicle that he slowed right down. He could hear the driver in the back, sorting out the delivery. Looking around to be sure he wasn’t being watched, Vernon side-stepped into a neighbouring drive and stood quietly beside a bin. He only wanted a moment inside the van. He knew exactly where to look to find the delivery checklist, having observed several drop-offs outside his own block that week.

‘Come on, fella,’ he muttered. ‘Do your thing.’

Vernon levered down a branch in the bush that hid him from view. He could see the driver at work, pulling the family’s order from cold-store compartments. Finally, the guy stepped down onto the pavement and stacked three baskets onto a porter’s trolley. Vernon braced himself to make his move. As soon as the man set off for the house, he headed straight for the van and jumped in without using the step.

The clipboard was hanging from a hook by a loop of string. The Savage address was printed in the upper corner of the top sheet. Vernon snatched it free and scanned the list underneath.

‘OK, what have we got?’ It was just a hunch after years in the profession, but something told the private investigator that the key to unlocking the secret about the Savages had to be right here. His eyes dropped from one food item on the list to the next, and again on the other side of the sheet. Finally, he looked up and searched his mind. There was enough stuff here for a banquet, some kind of roast that would befit a royal, but one thing was missing. It was a glaring omission. Without it, this blow-out would be incomplete. Vernon looked up with just one question on his mind. ‘Where’s the meat?’

The response, as such, came in the shape of a dart to Vernon’s left buttock. He barely felt it puncture his trousers and skin, largely on account of the fifty-thousand volt shock it delivered to every fibre of his body. Vernon didn’t make a sound, having momentarily swallowed his tongue. He simply snapped upright in pain, his eyes bulging, and then sheer surprise when the convulsions stopped and a hand appeared from behind him clasping a silk neckerchief. It was doused in a sweet-smelling chemical, he realised, on finding it clamped to his mouth. A second later, overcome by chloroform fumes, the private investigator slumped back into the arms of his assailant.