The Savages

27

Sasha Savage paused outside the café. She was nervous about the conversation that was about to take place. It wasn’t something she had expected, but as soon as she heard his voice on the phone it felt like the right thing to do. Taking a breath, she pushed open the door. There he was, rising from the table on seeing her.

‘Hi,’ said Ralph, and gestured at the seat opposite. ‘What can I get you?’

Sasha lit up at the young man she had spoken to briefly at the university talk. He was as scruffy as she remembered, with a heartfelt smile and a crinkle beside each eye that told her how much he liked to laugh.

‘Whatever you’re having is good,’ she said. ‘So long as it isn’t vegan.’

Sasha had given Ralph her number during the interval. It had been good for her to meet someone who was also embarking on a trial without meat at the same time. Ralph shared the same hopes, doubts and weaknesses as she did, and so when he asked to keep in touch she didn’t look for an excuse. As he tapped the digits into his phone, he had jokingly promised not to stalk her. Sasha had been too shy to ask for his number in return. It didn’t seem right, given that she was supposedly with her boyfriend. It was only afterwards, on the drive home, that she began to hold out hope that he would call. Jack had just not stopped talking about Amanda. It wasn’t only her bonkers beliefs that he admired. He even praised her sense of style and the courage he felt it would’ve taken for her to stand up and share her views. Then, on dropping off Sasha at her house, he’d had the nerve to try it on with her again. Sasha had responded to his wandering hands by climbing out of the hybrid. That evening, she had gone to bed hoping Jack would wake up and realise how insensitive he’d been. Instead, he’d gone quiet on her. More immediately, to Sasha’s surprise, she found she wasn’t greatly upset about it.

Jack had opened her eyes to many things, and that included the growing realisation that she just wasn’t that into him. He’d certainly swept her off her feet in the beginning, and seduced her with his views on food, but beyond that he only seemed to be interested in bedding her. Sasha had been prepared to see how things panned out, to give him a chance to show he had a deeper side, but seeing him flounce from the house over the prank with the tea just convinced her it was over. She hadn’t felt too bad about it. That Jack hadn’t been in touch himself made her think the feeling was mutual.

‘Jack and I want different things,’ she told Ralph over coffee. ‘But I don’t have any regrets. They say you should always try something before you decide whether or not you like it.’

Ralph smiled, clasping his mug with both hands.

‘I didn’t know if I should call you,’ he said after a moment. ‘I hope it’s OK.’

Sasha was pleased that he had. Ralph really seemed like a genuine guy. At the same time, after everything that had happened with Jack, she realised just then that what she needed here was friendship. As someone else setting out on the same path as her, she could see in Ralph’s eyes that he felt the same way.

‘So, how are you getting on with the whole vegetarian thing?’

Ralph set his mug down on the table.

‘Well, it’s tough!’ he said. ‘I’m definitely a veggie at heart. I just can’t speak for my stomach sometimes.’

‘Any bacon moments?’

‘Oh, constantly.’

‘Me, too.’ Sasha grinned, her eyes locked on his. Ralph held her gaze with ease.

‘I need to tell you something,’ he said finally. ‘It’s confession time.’

‘Go on.’

Ralph toyed with the sugar sachet.

‘Once or twice over the last couple of days,’ he told her, ‘I’ve given in to temptation.’

‘No!’ Sasha pretended to look shocked, but laughed despite herself. ‘Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did the same thing.’

‘Really?’

Sasha considered what she had to say next.

OK, it’s my turn,’ she began. ‘Sometimes, I crave something so unspeakable I can’t even put it into words.’

‘More unspeakable than bacon?’

‘Oh, so unspeakable.’

‘Want to try me?’

‘No,’ said Sasha, ‘but it feels good just telling you that. Like a weight off my shoulders.’

Ralph held her gaze for a moment, and then chuckled.

‘So, why not give in to temptation?’ he suggested. ‘It won’t kill you.’

Sasha thought about this for a moment.

‘I suppose there are no rules to say that I can’t.’

‘Exactly,’ said Ralph. ‘All these people beating themselves up about not eating this or only eating that. I’m beginning to think sometimes it’s best to just go with what feels good.’

Finding herself nodding before he had even finished, Sasha smiled and wagged a finger at him playfully.

‘You’re a bad influence,’ she told him. ‘Just when I’ve been doing so well.’

‘Hey, don’t let me influence your eating habits.’ Ralph held up his hands, grinning still. ‘I’m not here to judge you.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Sasha. ‘And I’m not here to give you a hard time about bacon. A treat is good for the soul every now and then.’

‘So it is,’ said Ralph. ‘Especially on white bread with ketchup.’

‘We all have our favourites,’ agreed Sasha.

‘I’m glad I’m not alone.’

Sasha glanced at the table, as if summoning the courage to speak from the heart.

‘You’re not alone,’ she said quietly.

Ralph nodded, still playing with the sachet.

‘Likewise.’

For a second they said nothing. There was no need. The silence was only broken when Sasha’s mobile phone began to ring. She glanced at the name on the screen and immediately rejected the call.

‘That’s the first time Jack’s tried to reach me since he slammed our front door in my face,’ said Sasha. ‘I wonder what he wants now?’

‘You should speak to him.’

Sasha pocketed her phone.

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘It’s important that one of us does the right thing.’

Vernon English came to his senses over the course of an hour. At first, as he surfaced from the anaesthetic properties of the drug vapour he’d inhaled, he struggled to register anything more than the fact that he was still alive. His whole body felt like a dead weight, not least his head, which throbbed madly. As for his surroundings, Vernon’s clouded brain initially told him that he must be in the hold of a ship at sea, for all he could hear was the creaking of timber and ropes. Eventually, he summoned the presence of mind to open his eyes. Thanks to a solitary light bulb, he realised that he was in fact in a concrete-lined room, with no windows or door. It contained one plastic chair and a tall, wall-mounted steel cabinet. Both appeared to be upside down, he noted as his vision continued to recover. A moment later, the private investigator realised the furnishings just looked like that because he was strung up by his ankles from an oak beam overhead.

‘Hnngghh!’ he croaked, though his appeal for help was muffled by the gag in his mouth. Vernon twisted and bucked against his restraints, which wasn’t easy as his hands were also tied behind his back. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out, both eyes wide with fear. A closed hatch in the ceiling corner offered the only way in and out, with iron rungs fixed to the wall that served as a ladder. Vernon followed the rungs with his eyes. At the bottom, beside a drain, he spotted his cap. Not only had it come adrift from his head, which always left him feeling exposed, it looked badly trampled. ‘Hnngghh!’

It wasn’t until some hours later, when he gave up hope of raising the alarm, that Vernon found himself in company. His temples felt as if they might burst. This wasn’t just down to the blood sloshing around in his skull. At one point, he had tried to raise the alarm by swinging himself against the wall. After a couple of minutes of banging his head against the rock hard surface, he had succeeded only in temporarily knocking himself out. Since then, he’d just dangled there and sobbed quietly. Tears streaked his forehead, and though he occasionally pulled and tugged at the ropes that bound him, Vernon English was a defeated man. Even when the hatch pulled away, a second passed before he glanced up. Two faces peered down at him. Despite the gloom, he immediately recognised the bald dome of Titus Savage and his son’s intense stare.

‘Is he ready?’ asked the boy.

Titus climbed down into the space. He stood back from the trussed man hanging upside down before him and then produced a wallet from his back pocket. Immediately, Vernon recognised it as his own.

‘Vernon Ray English. Forty-four-year-old Caucasian male. A private eye, which is no surprise. He’s divorced and lives alone.’

‘That’s good,’ said Ivan, climbing down beside his father. ‘Isn’t that good?’

‘It means he’s less likely to be missed,’ said Titus, who was now sizing Vernon up and down. He stepped closer to his terror-struck captive, whose muffled gasped marked the moment Titus began to gently press his sides and stomach. ‘The liver is a little enlarged, which is often down to alcohol, but the kidneys are in good shape.’

‘He looks healthy enough,’ observed Ivan. ‘In a tired sort of way.’

Titus slapped Vernon’s left thigh, before taking a step back.

‘He’ll need stripping down and washing,’ he said next. ‘And shaving, of course.’

Vernon responded to each instruction with a squeak and a whimper.

‘I can do all that,’ said Ivan eagerly, before facing up to his father. ‘I can do… everything.’

Titus thought about this for a moment.

‘Very well,’ he said, only to caution him by extending a finger. ‘Just be nice, OK? I’m letting you do this alone because I trust you to have respect for this gentleman.’

‘I won’t let you down, Dad. I promise.’

Ivan held his father’s gaze, who nodded to himself after a moment.

‘My boy,’ said Titus eventually, and ruffled his hair. ‘It’s time to make a man of you.’

By now, Vernon was making an almighty noise. Seized by panic, he began thrashing like an escapologist over flames. Titus and Ivan observed him calmly, as if they’d seen it all before. Finally, Titus grasped the man by one arm, and waited for him to fall still. Then he crouched and yanked the gag from his mouth.

‘Let me go!’ Vernon begged him, gasping for air at the same time. ‘Whatever you want with me, we can pretend it never happened.’

‘We could do that,’ agreed Titus, ‘but I have to think of my family.’

Vernon struggled to keep his composure from cracking.

‘What kind of family are you?’ he asked, sobbing at the same time.

‘A private one,’ Titus told him. ‘A family that doesn’t take kindly to people bugging their kitchen.’

‘I know you had something to do with the death of Lulabelle Hart,’ spat Vernon. ‘You’re not just a crooked businessman. I should’ve gone to the police with my suspicions!’

Ivan looked up at his father.

‘Lulabelle was an accident,’ said Titus, as if speaking for his son.

‘But we didn’t eat her,’ added Ivan, who seemed surprised when Vernon responded with a harrowing scream.

28

Jack Greenway was not used to being ignored. Three times he had tried to reach Sasha by phone. On each occasion, it had rung off before her answer machine kicked in. Finally, he had texted her, a simple ‘WTF?’ but that too had failed to draw a response.

Jack also knew that he only had himself to blame. Ever since the thing with the tea and the knife, he’d done his level best to avoid Sasha. Amanda had become his top priority, but now there was a problem. In order to fulfil her fantasy, which he hoped would earn him a very special reward, he needed to get back into Sasha’s good books so as to gain access to her house. Finally, Jack went looking for her one lunch break. As he’d failed to show up with his Tupperware container at the skate ramp all week, he learned from Faria and Maisy that Sasha had gone to the nearby express supermarket to buy a sandwich. When Faria cheekily invited him to sit with them and share the box, it was clear he felt his efforts had gone to waste.

‘Another time,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It isn’t the same without Sasha.’

Later, after lessons had finished for the day, Jack was spotted in the sixth form car park. He was sitting in his hybrid, picking at the contents of his container with his fingers, clearly brooding. He was just dropping a pinch of bulgur wheat with pomegranate seeds into his mouth when a knock at the driver’s side window caused him to sprinkle it down his shirt.

‘Sasha!’ Hurriedly, Jack wound down the window. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’

‘Is now good?’ she asked.

‘Perfect!’ said Jack, stowing the box and brushing himself down. ‘Where shall we go?’

Sasha looked at him uncomfortably.

‘I haven’t got long,’ she told him. ‘I promised Mum I’d be back to help out in the kitchen. We have a big meal planned for the weekend.’

‘Then let me drive you home,’ said Jack, thinking at the same time that this would be just the opportunity he needed to talk her into inviting him round.

‘I’m not sure,’ replied Sasha hesitantly. ‘There’s just something I need you to know.’

Jack pressed the ignition button.

‘Tell me on the way,’ he said, and gestured at the passenger seat. ‘In this car we’ll barely leave a carbon footprint.’

For the first few minutes of the journey, the pair exchanged small talk. Jack reported that the vegan life was like finding his spiritual home, and while Sasha complimented him on the commitment her voice lacked enthusiasm. Jack wondered whether she had relapsed as a carnivore, but reminded himself that his goal here was to make sure Sasha felt that things were good again between them. It wouldn’t be difficult, he thought to himself. She was crazy about him.

‘I like your mascara,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the road. ‘It really suits you.’

‘I’m not wearing any.’ Sasha wound down the window by an inch to get some air. ‘Jack, this thing we have—’

‘It’s going places,’ he cut in, and shifted up a gear. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, but I really do feel we’re heading in the right direction.’

‘It’s over.’

‘What?’ Jack glanced across at her, and pulled back into the lower gear. ‘It can’t be.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sasha. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’

‘But you can’t,’ Jack replied, his voice tight with panic, and found himself torn between looking at Sasha and the road. ‘I need to see you. At the weekend.’

‘We’re finished,’ she said as if to spell it out. ‘You’ve introduced me to some things, and I’m grateful for that. I’ve just come to realise that I’m not comfortable sharing my life with someone quite as intimately as you’d hoped. I had to give it a shot to realise this, and I just hope we can be friends. That’s all I want in my life right now, Jack. Family and friends.’

For the last few minutes of the drive, Jack pleaded with Sasha for a second chance. At the same time, all he could think about was the very real possibility that his opportunity to bed Amanda could vanish.

‘Is there someone else?’ he asked at one point. ‘Is it that guy from the talk? The one who looked like he needed a bath and a shave? I saw you chatting to him in the queue. Don’t think I’m completely stupid.’

Sasha looked at the floorwell.

‘It’s not what you think,’ she said. ‘Ralph and I just have a lot in common at the moment.’

Jack’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Sasha was beginning to annoy him now. No girl had ever broken up a relationship with him. It just didn’t work like that in his world.

‘Does he drive?’ he grumbled.

Sasha sighed to herself.

‘He doesn’t drive,’ she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘Nor is he a vegan. He’s trying hard not to eat meat but struggling with the whole hardline thing. To be honest, I know just how he feels.’

As they approached the Savage house, Jack felt utterly defeated. He pulled up outside. The engine cut out automatically. The silence inside the car was clearly as painful for Sasha as it was for him.

‘So, that’s it?’ he said.

Sasha dropped her gaze, but offered him a smile all the same.

‘It’s for the best,’ she said, before reaching for her school bag. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Jack drew breath to ask if the weekend would be good, but already Sasha was climbing out of the car. As she did so, he noticed that she’d left something behind on the seat. An earring, he realised, on picking it up.

‘Wait!’ he said, just as Sasha closed the door. Returning his attention to the earring, Jack held it up for a closer inspection. He didn’t know much about jewellery, but this was one of those dangling varieties with a silver clasp. It held a little bauble that could’ve been carved from bone. His first thought was to hurry after Sasha and hand it back. Then an idea crept into his mind. One that caused him to curl his fist victoriously around the earring. Jack looked at Sasha one last time, who didn’t turn as she opened up the door to the house. He smiled to himself, before slipping what would be his golden pass inside his shirt pocket. ‘You can have this back on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’ll drop it round. Really. It’ll be my pleasure.’

Dangling by his ankles in the pit beneath the shed, there was a moment when Vernon English’s sense of terror exceeded anything he had ever known. It came when Titus prepared to leave him alone in Ivan’s company.

‘You can’t!’ Vernon pleaded. ‘Don’t abandon me down here. Not with… him!’

‘He’s my son,’ said Titus, seemingly irritated by the man’s lack of respect. ‘He might well make mistakes the first time, but you know how it is.’

‘How?’ Vernon roared, and then broke into a sob. ‘I don’t eat people. I don’t even have kids!’

‘You don’t?’ If Titus was preparing to leave, this stopped him in his tracks. He considered the man trussed up before him. After a moment, his irritation appeared to have been eclipsed by pity. ‘They drive you crazy sometimes, but every now and then they make you so proud your heart could burst.’

‘I don’t want to die,’ croaked Vernon. ‘I’d still like to start a family one day.’

Titus watched Vernon sobbing for a moment. Then he looked to the floor, ran the palm of his hand over his shaved dome and sighed.

‘You know too much for me to let you go now,’ he said, and gestured at their surroundings. ‘I’m sorry you missed out, Mr English. Building a family is one thing. Keeping it together is where sacrifices have to be made.’

Without further word, Titus turned and took to the rungs.

‘Please!’ cried Vernon. ‘I’d make a good dad. I’m sure I would!’

Once he’d climbed out of the space, Titus responded by lowering the hatch into place. Vernon looked back at Ivan, and found his gaze tight upon him.

‘It won’t hurt,’ said the boy. ‘Not this bit.’ Ivan turned to the cabinet behind him. He unlocked the door with a key his father had handed him and swung it open. First he fished out a butcher’s apron. It was striped blue and white, but mostly stained with deep red splatters, and way too big for him. With his eyes locked on the cabinet still, Vernon screamed again, much to the boy’s annoyance. ‘Could you, like, shut up? They’re just tools.’

He stepped aside, offering Vernon a clear view. Knives, hooks and saws with jagged teeth hung from the upper rail in the cabinet. Some larger equipment was stored underneath. Much of it looked industrial.

‘This is a joke,’ breathed Vernon, his teeth chattering with fear. ‘A sick joke.’

Ivan returned to the cabinet. First he hauled out a pressure washer. Then he found a barber’s clipper which he placed on the plastic chair. Finally, after some rummaging, the boy returned with what looked like a short-handled hammer in one hand. As he twisted it in his grip, Vernon noticed that one side sported some nasty triangular studs.

‘Relax,’ said Ivan. ‘It’s just a tenderiser.’

‘What?’

‘You know?’ he said, and patted the instrument in the palm of his hand. ‘It softens the fibres. Makes the meat easier to chew.’

Vernon English struggled to take in what the boy was saying here. Gripped by panic, still hanging upside down from the beam, he began to tremble, twitch and gasp for breath.

‘Your dad said nothing about a tenderiser!’ he said in desperation. ‘A wash and a shave is all he asked you to do.’

‘It’s my first time,’ said Ivan with a shrug. ‘I want to do things properly.’

‘But you told me it wouldn’t hurt!’ he wailed.

‘It won’t.’ Ivan placed the tenderiser on the chair and turned for the cabinet once more. When he came back around, Vernon saw to his horror that he had just collected a bolt pistol. ‘You’ll be dead by then,’ he said, and pulled the bolt back on the spring. It locked into position with a click. Ivan caught his eye and smiled. ‘On the bright side, if I accidentally nick you with the clipper in a minute from now you won’t feel a thing!’

‘Don’t do this,’ whispered Vernon, as Ivan placed the bolt head to his temple and found the trigger with his finger. He drew breath to plead with the boy once more, only for a thunderous bang to mark the moment that his world went black.

29

For Titus Savage, a feast was always preceded by a day of preparation. Like his father, he considered it to be a kind of ritual that involved the whole family. There were tasks for everyone. Throughout the next morning, Sasha helped her mother assemble the side dishes, while Titus visited the market for those last-minute items. In the afternoon, having set out the place mats at the table, he found the mahogany box that contained the special cutlery and took it upstairs to his father’s room. Oleg liked to play a part, and polishing the silverware was something he had done for decades.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ said Titus, as his father pushed his spectacles into place. He waited for the old man to find a cloth in his drawer before outlining what was on the menu. ‘We could’ve opted for something leaner, and less tearful about his lost opportunities in life,’ he pointed out, ‘but what else could I do?’

‘I hear that Ivan is in charge.’ Oleg shuffled across to the table under the skylight, where Titus had just placed the box. ‘I remember your first time as a little boy. It was a proud moment.’

The pair exchanged a smile.

‘Ivan tells me everything went to plan,’ said Titus. ‘He stayed up until the early hours to get the job done. He hasn’t even surfaced yet.’

Oleg picked a dessert spoon from the box.

‘I wonder if this is something Ivan will pass on to his children?’

‘Of course,’ said Titus without hesitation. ‘He’s a Savage. Tradition is in our blood.’

Oleg focused on polishing the spoon for a moment.

‘Will Sasha be joining us?’ he asked.

‘She’s in the kitchen with Angelica right now.’ Titus narrowed his eyes, unsure why he would even check his granddaughter would be present. ‘Is something troubling you?’

‘Me? No!’ Oleg rubbed the spoon handle vigorously. Then he stopped and sighed. ‘We’re all Savages, Titus. We always will be in name at least, no matter how many of us gather round the table in future.’

Titus looked baffled. He was standing over his father, who next selected a fork to polish.

‘Well, every one of us shall be eating this evening as we welcome little Kat to the fold,’ he said, and clapped Oleg on the shoulder as if that might reassure him. ‘You don’t need to worry about your grandchildren. It’s my duty to make sure they understand the importance of dining like this on a regular basis.’ Titus turned to leave the room. At the door, he stopped and addressed his father one more time. ‘You know, it’s true what they say that the family who eat together, stick together.’

‘Maybe not the family who eat people together,’ muttered Oleg.

‘I’m sorry?’

The old man looked up and around. He seemed startled to find Titus was still there.

‘Oh, nothing,’ he said quickly and held the fork up to the light.

Angelica hadn’t stopped all day. The menu, which she’d written out by hand, was stuck to the fridge using painted magnets from a local art fair. With Sasha’s help, the potatoes were peeled, the vegetables chopped and herbs picked from the garden. The only thing missing, in fact, was the meat. Still, Angelica had everything under control, with help from her eldest daughter. Sasha was at the stove, stirring a pepper and port wine sauce, while little Kat was on the floor by the French windows, her hands pressed to the glass, babbling at the birds on the feeder.

‘It’s going to be a late night for her,’ Sasha said.

‘You know how it is,’ said Angelica. ‘We don’t sleep until everyone is full.’

By now, the sauce was beginning to simmer. Sasha turned the heat down by a notch.

‘Ivan says there’s a lot to share out this time.’

Angelica had just finished refilling the salt cellar. She stopped and faced her daughter.

‘There’ll be even more to go round if you don’t join in,’ she said.

Sasha focused on the sauce, which was still bubbling even on the lower temperature.

‘Will Grandpa be eating down here or in his room?’ she asked, in a bid to change the subject.

Angelica wasn’t surprised, but persisted anyway.

‘This feast might be all about Katya,’ she said, ‘but I want it to be a celebration for you both. A welcoming to one daughter and a farewell to the other.’

Sasha stirred the sauce a little quicker.

‘Mum, I really appreciate how supportive you’ve been to me these last few weeks. I’ll be at the table with you all. Nothing changes there.’

‘Everything changes,’ said Angelica to correct her. ‘A vegetarian will be eating among us.’

‘I’m not sure about the whole label thing,’ Sasha replied, as the sauce finally began to thicken. ‘It can feel a bit suffocating.’

‘Which is why we never call ourselves cannibals,’ said Angelica, prompting her daughter to catch her breath.

‘Mum!’

Sasha looked scandalised. Like Angelica, she then scrambled to look as busy as possible when Titus appeared in the kitchen.

‘Did I just hear the “C” word?’ he asked, and inspected several dishes. Sasha stirred the sauce madly. Angelica tightened the top of the salt cellar, well aware that Titus was gazing directly at her. Just then, Ivan appeared at the doorway in his dressing gown. He yawned, stretched, and then dropped his arms on realising he had just walked in on something. Normally, his mother would scold him for lying in throughout so much of the day. Instead, Angelica shot him a look that told him he needed to be elsewhere.

‘I just wanted something to eat,’ the boy grumbled, and headed for the back door. ‘I’m starving.’

As soon as he was outside, Titus addressed Angelica and Sasha once more.

‘We’re not cannibals,’ he said as if to remind them. ‘Cannibals boil people alive in cauldrons. I prefer to think of ourselves as evolved eaters. As a family, we’re at the forefront of fine dining. Human flesh is an acquired taste, and I’ve worked hard to give you all the chance to appreciate it for yourselves. It’s what keeps us tight, am I right?’

Angelica glanced at Sasha, who looked back at the sauce, sighed to herself and then nodded.

‘Let’s all take a seat,’ said Angelica, and gestured at the kitchen table. ‘Sasha has something to share.’

Vernon Savage saw a bright light. Having been dangling from the beam for so long, and in total darkness, the opening of the hatch caused him to blink and wince.

It was the sight of the crazy kid, Ivan, easing his way down the rungs that persuaded him to stay still and silent. Vernon knew he was supposed to be dead. If he started shouting and screaming, Ivan might have another go with the bolt gun. Fortunately for the private investigator, the boy’s lack of practice meant the weapon had recoiled when he pulled the trigger. Instead of punching through his temple and into his brain, the bolt had simply knocked him out. Vernon considered this to be a small mercy given the indignity and horror of what had evidently followed. When he resumed consciousness, he found he had been stripped of his clothing, washed and shaved from head to toe with the barber’s clippers. Finally, he realised he’d been swaddled in what felt like a nappy made from kitchen foil. It crinkled every time he moved, which he tried to keep to a minimum on account of the pain he was in. Even without being able to see anything, Vernon knew that Ivan had hit him with the tenderiser at least a few times, but not enough to have much effect on his flesh. It left him wondering whether the boy was incapable of carrying out the job properly. If so, thought Vernon in his traumatised mind, Ivan’s inexperience might just save his life.

It was for this reason that he played dead before Ivan hit the light switch. He then held his breath as the boy circled him. Whatever happened next, Vernon hoped this young psychopath would continue his hapless streak. With his head just above the ground, Vernon dared to glance up to see that Ivan, wearing his dressing gown, was clutching a short blade in one hand. He stifled a gasp. This wasn’t looking good, but what option did he have?

‘Oh yeah,’ said Ivan, as if he’d suddenly remembered something, and turned for the cabinet behind him. ‘A bucket for the bleed out.’

On hearing this, Vernon’s heart began to hammer so forcefully he could almost hear it with his own ears. He let his eyes go glassy as Ivan came back and slid a rubber trough underneath him. On feeling the cold edge of the blade against his jugular, however, the man could take no more.

‘No!’ yelled Vernon angrily, and blinked back into focus. ‘Get away from me!’

This time it was Ivan’s turn to cry out. He scrambled backwards, knife in hand, but not before scratching Vernon’s throat with the tip. It was enough to produce a bead of blood that swelled and dropped into the trough.

‘Ouch!’ said Vernon with a grimace. ‘Will you leave me alone?’

Ivan looked aghast.

‘But I killed you,’ he said. ‘You’re dead.’

‘And so are you when I’m free,’ growled Vernon, the foil crinkling wildly as he writhed and bucked against his bindings. ‘Help!’ He cried out, filling his lungs. ‘Help me!’

Panic-stricken, Ivan looked to the open hatch and back again at his captive.

‘Shut up,’ he said. ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll fetch my dad!’

‘Help! Someone, please help!’

It was all too much for the boy. Dropping the knife, he raced for the rungs as Vernon continued to raise the alarm. Even with the hatch back in place, and the pit returned to darkness, the stricken private investigator continued to bellow while the trough below him collected his blood drip by little drip.

30

Titus Savage sat in grave silence. Across the kitchen table, his wife and eldest daughter looked on uncomfortably. Only Katya remained her sunny self. At that moment, however, nobody paid her any attention.

‘Who is responsible for this?’ asked Titus eventually, his voice on the verge of cracking.

Angelica and Sasha exchanged a glance.

‘The boy I was seeing,’ said Sasha. ‘But it’s over now.’

‘I see.’ Titus furrowed his brow. ‘Couldn’t he have left you with something more traditional like a broken heart, maybe, or herpes?’

‘Titus!’ Angelica shot him a look. ‘Be civil. This isn’t easy for Sasha.’

‘It’s OK,’ Sasha cut in, and held her hands out to calm them both. ‘It was my decision to go vegetarian. Jack just introduced me to the idea, but this isn’t a question of who is to blame. It’s about understanding.’ She paused there and looked away for a moment. ‘Understanding and respect.’

‘What about respect for the family?’ Titus asked, and slammed his palm on the table. ‘You’re turning your back on a tradition that unites us in a shared secret. It grounds every one of us, so we can each make the most of our lives!’

‘And I’d still willingly take my place each time you sit down to feast,’ said Sasha. ‘I’ll just stick to the vegetables,’ she added quietly.

Titus scoffed dismissively.

‘My daughter, the grazer.’

‘There you go again,’ said Angelica with a sigh.

‘Belittling me won’t change my mind,’ said Sasha, in such a way that commanded her father’s attention. ‘This is who I am now, and I just feel better for it.’

Titus sat back in his chair, considering her.

‘What about the feast we had before Christmas two years ago?’ he asked. ‘You begged me to do the honours, and a very clean kill it was, too, but how does that sit with you, Sasha? Now that you’re better than us?’

‘Dad, I’m just trying to be true to myself. Isn’t that what you want for all your children?’

Just then, the back door crashed open. Nobody at the table looked around.

‘Help me out, Sasha,’ said Titus, sounding a little calmer. ‘I’m struggling here.’

It was Angelica who was first to look around as her son appeared before them. He looked wild-eyed and a little breathless.

‘Dad, I need your help.’

‘Not now.’ Titus kept his gaze locked on his eldest daughter.

‘But, Dad—’

‘I said not now!’

It was a sudden outburst, delivered with such force that everyone present shrank into themselves. The silence that followed was only broken when Katya started bawling.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ muttered Titus, and rose to collect her from the floor. ‘Go to your room, Ivan. And just stay out of trouble!’

‘I just really think you need to—’ Ivan stopped short as his father turned and glowered at him. ‘Fine, then!’ he grumbled before heading for the stairs. ‘Don’t blame me if dinner is ruined!’

Soothing Katya in his arms, Titus stood by the French windows, overlooking the garden and the shed at the back.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he told Sasha. ‘You need to think long and hard about what this means for your family.’

Sasha waited for her father to face her before she replied.

‘Would you say the same thing if I had just come out as gay?’

‘Is that your next bombshell?’ asked Titus, and turned to Angelica.

‘Just answer the question,’ she said, folding her arms.

With Katya calm, Titus set her back down on the floor. He crouched there for a moment, offering one of her plastic bricks to play with. Finally, when he was sure of his composure, and that his voice wouldn’t crack, he rose up once again.

‘Of course I wouldn’t say the same thing. That would be different.’

‘So, would you rather I’d stayed quiet about going veggie?’ said Sasha. ‘This last month has been really tough. If it wasn’t for Mum’s support, I’d never be here now, being open about who I am.’

‘A month?’ Titus looked in astonishment at his wife.

‘Sasha needed time to work things out.’

‘I’m still a Savage, Dad,’ she said. ‘The only difference now is that I’m really happy being me.’

By now, there was nothing Titus could do to stop a tear from tracking down his cheek.

‘Then I’m happy for you,’ said Titus, and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. From across the table, Angelica mouthed the words ‘thank you’ at him. ‘It seems I have a lot to learn from this,’ he added. ‘Perhaps I should follow your example.’

‘By giving up meat?’ asked Sasha, her mouth falling open.

‘Don’t push it,’ said Titus, and recovered with a grin. ‘I mean by being honest with myself.’

Angelica was still watching her husband closely.

‘Is there something you want to tell us?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Titus, batting away the question. ‘I’m just feeling a little restless at work lately. Maybe I’ve been in the business for too long, but I’m starting to wonder if I should move on to new horizons. A challenge, perhaps.’

‘Like what?’ asked Angelica. ‘You’re a natural at what you do.’

‘I’ll think of something,’ said Titus, who turned just then to inspect the dishes on the counter behind him. ‘For now, whatever anyone chooses to pile on their plates, let’s focus on making this feast one of the best we’ve ever had!’

Without blinking, Ivan hammered at the trigger button on his handset. On the videogame in front of him, he was an effective killer. It helped him to block out what a mess he’d made of things in real life.

‘I’ll finish you,’ he muttered to himself, and not just to the women and children fleeing from the crosshairs of his gun. ‘You’ll see.’

A knock at the door drew his attention from the screen.

‘Are you looking for the bathroom again?’ he asked his grandfather.

‘I don’t need directions,’ said Oleg, and showed him the box of cutlery he’d finished polishing. ‘Look at that. All ready for the feast.’

‘Whatever.’ Ivan returned his attention to the screen.

Oleg watched him turn his sights on a fleeing crowd for a moment.

‘So, your father let you do the honours last night. Congratulations.’

Ivan unleashed a storm of bullets, cutting down dozens at a time.

‘The kill is still alive,’ he said simply. ‘And he won’t shut up.’

Oleg’s expression changed from concern to surprise.

‘But a kill is supposed to hang for twenty-four hours after death to improve the flavour.’ He checked his wristwatch. ‘We’ll be cooking shortly.’

‘I thought I’d finished him,’ complained Ivan. ‘Somehow he survived and now he’s making a big fuss.’

‘Does your father know?’

Ivan shrugged and shook his head.

‘He’s busy with Sasha. I think she’s finally come out to him.’

Oleg considered this for a moment.

‘I’m sure we won’t let her share go to waste,’ he said, only for his shoulders to sag as he sighed. ‘That’s if there’s meat to eat.’

On the screen, Ivan appeared to run out of bullets. He pressed the trigger button a couple of times, but by then it was game over. Tossing the controller to one side, he faced his grandfather directly.

‘Will you help me?’ he asked. ‘Please?’

Even as the words came out, Ivan doubted his grandfather would agree. At his age, what could he do? Sure enough, Oleg looked to the floor with a sigh. When he glanced back again, however, Ivan saw a gleam in his eye that for a moment made him look like a younger man.

‘It’ll be just like old times,’ he said, and stepped aside so his grandson could lead the way.

Titus could still be heard in the kitchen as they crept downstairs. His conversation with Sasha and Angelica sounded just as intense, but with some laughter now. Even so, Ivan had no intention of interrupting him again. With his grandfather’s assistance, he figured his dad need never know there had been a problem with the kill. Only Angelica noted him creeping towards the back door with Oleg shuffling close behind. Ivan pressed his finger to his lips, glancing warily at Titus at the same time. She frowned, but returned her attention to her husband as he talked about how proud he had been at Sasha’s first feast. Ivan clicked open the door, before turning to check on his grandfather.

‘Can you make it quick and clean?’ he asked as they stepped out into the yard.

Oleg squinted in the light, even though it was beginning to fade. His skin looked strikingly waxy to Ivan, who was reminded that this was the first time he had seen his grandfather outside since he moved in with the family.

‘I’m not quick any more, my boy,’ he said, and used his cane to walk, ‘but I’m always clean. It’s a skill. Something you’ll pick up over time.’

The garden path was carefully concealed by overhanging branches and foliage from the borders. This was down to Titus, who liked to make sure that it couldn’t be overseen by the neighbours. As Ivan approached the shed, it struck him that the rungs into the pit might present a problem. He quickened his pace, anxious to work out a way to assist his grandfather so that he could get the job done. The plastic chair, he thought to himself, would give him something to stand on to help the old man descend. Lifting away the hatch, the boy turned and scrambled down to the concrete floor. He looked up, just as Oleg’s face appeared.

‘You can do this, Grandpa,’ said Ivan, and slid the chair into place. Oleg looked down into the pit. He seemed confused to the boy, which wasn’t unusual. Ivan reached up with his hand, ready to steer the old man’s foot onto the top rung. ‘Come on. Let’s finish this!’

‘But it looks like we’re too late,’ said Oleg.

Ivan glanced over his shoulder. With a gasp, he then turned round so quickly that the chair tipped underneath him. The boy crashed to the floor, but he barely seemed to notice. He picked himself up and reached for the stub of rope that dangled from the beam. The rubber trough on the floor contained a couple of inches of blood at most, but the captive from which it had come was nowhere to be seen.

31

Vernon English was in a sorry state. He had lost just enough blood to bring him close to fainting, while his body, shaved and lightly tenderised by Ivan, made him look like a badly plucked chicken in a silver foil nappy. On top of everything, his escape bid had almost knocked him senseless.

It was his junior captor who was also responsible for this bid for freedom. As soon as Ivan had dropped the knife and fled, the private investigator had made every effort to work his wrists free from the rope bindings. Desperation drove him, fuelled by a fear that failure would see him meet a gruesome end. It had taken a while, and left him with a badly skinned right hand, but eventually he had done it. Vernon’s next challenge had been to swing and stretch until his fingertips brushed the knife handle ever closer across the floor. Laughing deliriously to himself once he had grabbed it, he reached up with all his might and attempted to cut the rope. Success sent him crashing head first to the floor. He had narrowly missed the trough, hitting the concrete instead. As a result, he went on to haul himself from the pit in a traumatised daze. Too weak to speak, Vernon had blinked in the late light and tottered towards the house. He had heard the back door opening, but that wasn’t what persuaded him to stumble sideways in the direction of the French windows.

It was the sight of the little angel watching him from behind the glass.

This blue-eyed girl with blonde ringlets had beamed at Vernon, entrancing him. Having been through hell, it was a glimpse of heaven that drew him closer. At the window he sank to his knees, and pressed his palms to the glass where she had pressed hers.

‘Save me,’ he croaked, and mustered a smile as she giggled and chattered at him. Just then, the vision before Vernon represented everything that was good with the world, and all that he had missed. If he survived this ordeal, he thought to himself, he would change. Work had already cost him one marriage and the chance to start a family. That couldn’t be allowed to happen again. Life was too precious, as this sweet baby kept saying in his head, over and over again. Dimly, Vernon was aware of some people at the table behind her, but in his mindset this apparition was all that mattered. She practically glowed, which was mostly down to the fact that Vernon’s blood pressure was all over the place and it had left him with tunnel vision. ‘Take me home,’ he added, and promptly began to weep. ‘Show me the way. I’m ready!’

In response, the little girl patted at the window with both hands. The private investigator let his head slump against the glass. By now, his tears were falling freely. At the same time, he heard startled voices from inside the kitchen, along with the scraping of chairs. He was also aware of activity spilling out of the shed but nothing could move him from that moment. Vernon English lifted his eyes, found the little girl looking over him, and just then it felt like a blessing.

Titus Savage was as surprised as everyone else to see the central ingredient at the window. As soon as Vernon came to his attention, he kicked back his chair and rose to his feet.

‘Ivan,’ he muttered under his breath, before repeating his name at full volume.

‘What’s he done now?’ asked Sasha, who turned to face the French windows. ‘Oh.’

Angelica was quick to pluck her youngest daughter away, as if the man on the other side of the glass might harm her.

‘Unless Ivan’s planning on a surprise barbeque,’ she hissed at her husband, ‘you really need to get that man indoors.’

Titus didn’t need to be told. He hauled open the French windows, slipped his hands under Vernon’s arms and then dragged him over the threshold. At the same time, Ivan rushed breathlessly onto the patio behind him.

‘Is this a feast?’ asked Titus angrily. ‘Or a fiasco?’

Ivan glared at the man his father was now supporting.

‘He’d better taste good,’ the boy muttered. ‘All the trouble he’s caused.’

Vernon turned to Titus, who was practically holding him upright.

‘I eat a lot of junk food,’ he said, sounding faintly delirious now. ‘That can’t be good for you.’

‘You’ll be fine as a one-off,’ said Titus, sounding clipped. ‘So long as you’re part of a balanced diet.’

As he spoke, Oleg shuffled in from the patio. It had taken him all this time to join his family. Sasha was quick to find her grandfather a chair, which he accepted gratefully.

‘So,’ he said, and turned his attention to Titus. ‘We got a live one, eh?’

‘Not for much longer,’ growled Ivan, and crossed the kitchen for the knife rack. ‘I won’t let you down this time, Dad,’ he said, and reached for the largest blade.

Vernon squeaked like a cornered mouse, and fainted backwards. Titus caught him as he fell, and glowered at his son.

‘At least he won’t see it coming,’ he said as Ivan approached with the knife raised in both hands. ‘Just get it right this time. I’ve been working up an appetite all day.’

Outside the Savage residence, as stars began to prick the sky, Jack Greenway pressed the doorbell and then took a step back. He glanced over his shoulder. Across the street, standing in the park, the young woman he had come here to impress watched intently.

Man, he thought to himself, Amanda was sex on legs. It was a shame she had a screw loose, but he could live with that. All he had to do was spend a few minutes inside the house. So long as he left in a hurry, it would be easy to convince her that he had murdered a meat eater. Just to be sure, he had picked up a vial of fake blood from the joke section of the local toy store. On leaving, he’d dip behind Mr Savage’s 4x4 and flick it over his chinos or something. It would be enough to convince Amanda that he had carried out her wishes. He’d also have to ditch his trousers, which Jack hoped would happen in her company.

‘See you on the other side,’ he said quietly, and offered her a wave.

Amanda responded with a scowl, having ordered him not to draw attention to her, and faced the other way. Jack turned back to the door. The Savages were definitely at home. He’d heard some activity inside before ringing, only now it had gone silent. He reached for the doorbell again. Before he could press it, however, the front door opened up.

‘You again?’ It was Ivan. Sasha’s kid brother. Immediately Jack remembered the stunt the boy had pulled with the camomile tea and reminded himself that he wasn’t here for payback. He forced a cheery smile. Ivan responded by flattening his lips. ‘We’re busy,’ he said, and moved to close the door.

Jack responded by placing his foot in the boy’s way.

‘I have something for Sasha,’ he said, and produced her earring. ‘She left it in my car the other day.’

For a second time, Ivan tried to close the door. He did so with such force that Jack was moved to push back to stop his foot from being crushed. At the same time, he heard urgent whispers from the kitchen.

‘She isn’t here,’ said Ivan, glaring at him. ‘I’m home alone.’

All of a sudden, Jack began to worry that his simple plan was falling apart. He only needed a very short time inside the house, only now he couldn’t get beyond the threshold. Mindful that Amanda would be watching from a distance, Jack took it upon himself to barge past Ivan and into the hallway.

‘Look, I know you have a special meal on this evening,’ said Jack pleadingly, and clicked the door shut. ‘This really won’t take a moment.’

‘But you can’t—’

Before Ivan could protest further, Jack turned and hurried into the kitchen. There, he found Sasha helping her mother at the counter while her grandfather played with little Katya in the high chair.

‘Jack!’ Sasha sounded a little tense as she turned to greet him. ‘What a surprise.’

‘I hope I’m not interrupting,’ he said, and opened his palm to show her the earring. ‘I just wanted to return this.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ Sasha snatched it from his hand. She looked at him expectantly. ‘Bye, then.’

So far, Jack calculated that he had been inside the house for all of thirty seconds. It wouldn’t be enough to convince Amanda. He needed several more minutes at least.

‘So,’ he said. ‘You’re entertaining?’

‘Any time now,’ she told him, nodding.

Jack looked over Sasha’s shoulder. He found her mother and grandfather looking at him nervously.

‘Impressive spread,’ he said, and nodded at the side dishes on the counter. ‘What’s on the menu?’

Sasha looked lost for words, which Jack found curious. She turned to Oleg, as if seeking some kind of prompt, who in turn faced Angelica.

‘It’s a surprise,’ she said weakly.

Her explanation hung in the air. Jack looked back at Sasha, and wondered if she was about to be sick. It was then that she glanced around him, just for a moment, but with such tension in her manner that Jack couldn’t resist turning to look for himself.

It wasn’t the fact that Titus Savage was hiding behind the kitchen door that persuaded Jack to yelp in shock and horror. It was the bald and battered figure swaddled in kitchen foil. The one Titus was struggling to restrain with one hand clamped across the man’s mouth.

‘Well, hello again, young man!’ said Titus, as if this was just a regular get-together, only to grimace in pain as the bald guy chomped into his fingers. With a roar, he released his grip to nurse his hand.

‘Don’t let them eat me!’ cried Vernon, and threw himself upon Jack. All of a sudden, the stunned young man found himself smothered and pinned to the butcher’s block. ‘I don’t want to be dinner!’

‘Get off me!’ cried Jack, and tried in vain to push him away. ‘You’re freaks! All of you!’

‘Hey!’ growled Ivan, who had been watching from the hallway. ‘This is our house. Have some respect!’

From underneath Vernon, who had him in a desperate bear hug, Jack glared at Sasha. ‘I always thought there was something weird about you and your family!’ he snarled, his face contorted with shock and anger. ‘Now I know I was right!’

Sasha had been trying in vain to haul Vernon off her ex-boyfriend. When she heard this, however, she let go and took a step away.

‘I really thought I’d lucked out when you first showed an interest in me, Jack. You’re at the top of every girl’s list. You’re good looking—’

‘Thanks,’ Jack said through gritted teeth, still fighting to push the man off him.

Sasha glared at him for interrupting, amazed at the same time that he would even acknowledge her under the circumstances, and then continued with what she had to say.

‘Above all, I admired the fact that you called all the shots about the food you eat. That really sold you to me, but then the whole preaching thing kicked in. It might leave you with a clear conscience, Jack, but no meat-free diet can disguise the fact you’re full of crap.’

‘Got to hell,’ snarled Jack, still pinned to the block. ‘And take this lunatic with you!’

Sasha turned to her father.

‘Jack dumped me for a vegan,’ she told him. ‘Only he never had the courage to be upfront about it.’

‘Is that true?’ Titus focused on Jack, seemingly unconcerned by the gibbering weight on top of him. By now, Vernon had clamped his hands around Jack’s wrists. Nose to nose, he was pleading with him incomprehensibly. ‘You ditched my daughter for a… for a herbivore?’

‘Someone has to think of their figure!’ Once again, Jack attempted to push the sobbing madman away. It was then he remembered that the girl who had seduced him into coming here was watching from the park. ‘Amanda, call the police!’ he bellowed at the top of his voice, hoping she’d be within earshot. Immediately, Angelica rushed to close the French windows to seal in the noise. ‘Call the police, Amanda!’

With one almighty heave, Jack finally succeeded in pushing Vernon aside. The private investigator stumbled backwards, regained his footing and looked around as if expecting another assault. For a moment, nobody moved. Then a noise built in Vernon’s throat. At first, it sounded like a whimper, but slowly grew into a growl and finally a battle cry. Then, without further warning, he scrambled over the kitchen table and charged for the French windows. He was out on the patio before the first shard hit the floor, only to stumble and crash onto his belly. With a thud, the crown of Vernon’s shaved head hit a pottery plant pot.

‘Let him go,’ muttered Titus. ‘The man deserves some breaks in life.’

Hearing this, Angelica faced her husband. He nodded in response, as if some unspoken exchange between them had just determined the fate of the family. It was then that all eyes turned to Jack. This time, every single member of the Savage household, including baby Kat, stared at him balefully.

‘What?’ he asked, shrinking from their gaze. ‘Sasha, tell them to back off! Even if you’re mad at me because I didn’t tell you we were finished, this is outright intimidation.’ Jack took a step away, only to find himself backed against the butcher’s block.

‘Your comment just then,’ said Sasha quietly. ‘Are you suggesting I’m fat?’

‘I never said that!’ Jack looked around, but found no support from her family. He held out his hands. ‘You’re not fat, Sasha… not yet.’

‘Here we go again,’ said Ivan with a sigh. ‘Another attack on meat eaters.’

‘You’re all crazy,’ Jack spat back, frantic now, and glowered at Sasha once more. ‘I should’ve dumped you after our dinner date!’

To his surprise, Sasha smiled to herself and nodded.

‘You might have helped me see the light as a vegetarian,’ she said, sounding strikingly calm. ‘But right now what I need is comfort food.’

‘Look, just let me go and you can all get back to your supper.’

‘That won’t be possible,’ said Titus calmly, and nodded at Ivan. ‘If you leave now,’ he added, as the boy produced the knife once again, ‘we’ll have no main course.’

‘Jack has been trying to turn vegan,’ Ivan pointed out, like this might be a problem. ‘And there’s no time to properly prepare him.’

Titus didn’t once let his gaze slip. If anything, his eyes slowly narrowed. Such was the overwhelming menace in his glare that Jack just froze and whimpered.

‘Think of him as corn fed,’ he said, and stood aside for his son. ‘Corn fed and rustic.’

Amanda Dias heard the cry for help. She had been sitting on the park bench at the time. At first, she chose to ignore it. If Jack Greenway had attempted to carry out a killing, she wanted no part of it if something had gone wrong. Instead, she clasped her hands and focused on the ducks settling in the twilight.

There was something delicious about this moment, she thought to herself. That somebody would commit the ultimate crime for a cause she believed in passionately left her feeling so powerful. Amanda was beyond the law here. Untouchable. The cops would catch up with Jack, of course, and he could protest all he liked that she had set him up to force food ethics onto the agenda. It would never wash in court. There was no evidence beyond his word. Amanda had been sure to check it out, hypothetically, of course, which proved simple as Daddy was a barrister.

A moment later, Amanda heard the sound of tinkling glass. It came from the direction of the house. Her first thought was to walk away. The noise caused several dogs in the neighbourhood to kick off, but after a moment the hum of the city spread out below the park returned a sense of normality. She folded her coat against the evening chill, glanced at her watch and waited. From what Jack had told her of the Savage family, they didn’t care what meat went into their mouths. If he truly shared her belief that a slaying of this nature would ultimately force people to think about the food that they ate, then the head of the household was a legitimate target. Titus Savage wouldn’t be able to defend himself from such a surprise attack. Not like the hunters of old. Those who depended on flesh for their survival.

So, when Jack failed to emerge, her curiosity began to rise. In the back of her mind, Amanda wondered whether he had made up with his ex-girlfriend. He was certainly taking his time in leaving. Of course, she couldn’t care less about that, she told herself, though the thought that a boy would choose someone else over her finally prompted her to rise from the bench and find out for herself. She knew it would be safe to take a look. Jack certainly couldn’t have stuck a knife in the guy, as he’d promised he would. Had he done so, the alarm would’ve been raised and the place swarming with police. Whatever was going on in there he’d let her down badly, Amanda decided. She’d been wasting her time.

‘Once a vegetarian,’ she muttered bitterly, ‘always a vegetarian.’

Amanda walked past the house three times before she dared to venture onto the drive. The lights were on, and she could clearly hear activity inside. There was certainly some cooking going on because the hob extractor was blowing at full tilt. Immediately, she figured they had invited Jack for a bite to eat. Given how easily he had abandoned his pledge to kill a man, no doubt he had thrown away everything and was enjoying some beef, pork or chicken. Feeling let down, betrayed and angry, Amanda headed for the passage around the side of the house. All she wanted to do was peek inside. Just to confirm that she’d been dealing with a creep.

It was the sight of the flabby-looking man face down and bleeding on the patio that caused her to freeze. At first she thought he was drunk, judging by the way he was groaning, but the silver foil pants just foxed her. Was this some kind of stag night, she thought to herself, and then dared to peer around the corner of the house. She could hear a lot of noise from the kitchen, like dogs competing to wolf down the last few kibbles from a bowl. Crouching at the drainpipe, she saw the broken glass from the French windows. Then, very slowly, she turned to focus on the interior.

‘Oh… wow,’ she whispered to herself after a moment. Her eyes began to widen, her face illuminated from the kitchen as she emerged from her hiding place. Without a doubt, this was an atrocity she was witnessing, but in her mind it took things even further than she had ever imagined. In a stroke, she had stumbled on the only way to eat meat with a clear conscience. The realisation hit her so suddenly that it felt as if her life’s work had been leading to this moment. Amanda smiled, rising to her feet to face the diners inside. For she had arrived, as darkness closed in, to witness humans turn upon their own kind. A woman stood at the hob, flash frying thin steaks that had come straight from source thanks to the bald-headed figure carving expertly in the background. As for what was left of Jack, splayed out over the butcher’s block, he looked as if he might have died of fright. Still, no animals had suffered for their supper here. Not the innocent kind. The flesh on the plates was fair game. It was, she realised, on drawing ever closer to the broken window, the ultimate in ethical eating.

Just then, one of the family members picked up on her presence. It was the girl that had accompanied Jack to the talk. She seemed different in this light, thought Amanda, and not in a bad way. In fact, the whole family looked to be the sort of people she wanted to know better.

‘What is it like?’ she asked them.

Such was Amanda’s expression of wonder that nobody looked at all threatened by her presence. If anything, they looked transported to another dimension by the food they were eating here.

‘Bacon,’ said the girl between mouthfuls. ‘The best you ever tasted.’

‘May I join you?’ Amanda Dias waited for her response, entranced by what she had discovered, before carefully making her way across the glass shards that covered the threshold.