Matt Whyman - The Savages

‘Sometimes,’ said Sasha. ‘But it just means the whole family have to stay upstairs. Nothing interesting ever happens.’

The body of Lulabelle Hart lay face up on the bathroom floor. The skin was beginning to take on a mottled texture, much like the mirror over the fireplace downstairs.

As soon as Grandpa and Titus had hauled her out of the pan, it was clear that she had died with a look of utter surprise on her face. As a mark of respect, and in case it upset the baby, Angelica kneeled beside the corpse and closed her eyelids. At least then it didn’t look as if the woman was expecting the roof to fall in on her.

‘Have you any idea what you’ve done?’ Titus asked Ivan, who by now was looking very subdued. He spoke quietly, and not just because of the crew downstairs. In times of anger, Titus never yelled at anyone. Instead, with his eyes pinched at the corners, he would voice his true feelings in a whisper that sounded like a bellow just waiting to break out. ‘You can’t just go killing people without purpose. How have I raised a boy who thinks this is acceptable? You’ve let me down very badly here. I’m so disappointed in you.’

The boy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

‘We could always eat her,’ he suggested.

Titus closed his eyes for a moment more than a blink.

‘Ivan, we’ve no idea where she’s been.’

‘But we have to do something,’ he said.

Grandpa eased himself down to take a closer look.

‘It would be a shame to let her go to waste,’ he said, and gently grasped her bicep as if to evaluate the flesh. ‘At least that way we know there’ll be no evidence left.’

Titus glanced at his wife. Angelica looked down at the body, but Kat was back in her arms and wriggling to be set on the tiles.

‘Normally this takes planning,’ she said. ‘I’m all out of onions, for one thing.’

Joining Grandpa at ground level, Titus reached forward and grasped Lulabelle by the hinges of her jaw. Carefully, he opened her mouth to its full extent before running a finger along the inside of her upper teeth. He stared at the wall as he did so, concentrating hard.

‘Eating is out,’ he declared, and removed his finger. ‘The tooth enamel has been eroded back there. It’s caused over time by stomach acids coming back up through vomiting. Whatever caused this poor young lady’s problems, she’s not a healthy specimen now. We’d be faced with kidney damage, ulcers, even brittle bones.’

Clasping Titus by the shoulder for support, Grandpa rose to his feet.

‘That’s a shame,’ he said. ‘For her and for us.’

When Titus stood up, he found Angelica considering him.

‘You’ll have to drop her off,’ she said. ‘Tonight.’

Titus had already sensed that this was coming. Even before his wife had made the suggestion, he just knew that his Saturday evening on the sofa would be ruined.

Sasha Savage sat alone at the dining-room table. She clasped at her napkin nervously. The clock on the wall told her it was approaching half past seven. She could hear Jack in the kitchen, readying what he had called an amuse bouche .

‘It’s just a something,’ he said, on appearing at the door with a little plate in each hand. ‘They call it an amusement for the mouth. A palate tickler.’

With great ceremony, Jack Greenway set a plate in front of his guest. Sasha peered down at the offering. It was golden, crispy-looking, and about the size of a kidney.

‘Sweet battered courgette flower.’

For a moment, Sasha was lost for words.

‘Flowers are edible?’ she asked.

‘You’d be surprised what you can eat when you forgo meat.’

‘Well, I’ve learned something,’ she said, and collected her fork. ‘We don’t get this at home.’

‘Allow me.’ Jack took the fork from her, perching on the edge of the table at the same time. Then, giving no chance for Sasha to prepare herself, he jabbed the morsel and offered it for her to bite into. ‘Enjoy.’

‘I’m sure I will.’

Keen to please him, Sasha took the nugget in her mouth and crunched into it. She wasn’t sure what to expect. What she hadn’t anticipated was how hot it would be, and instinctively popped it into the palm of her hand.

‘Oh,’ said Jack, and left the edge of the table. ‘After all that.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ said Sasha desperately. ‘I just didn’t want to burn my mouth. I’m sure it’s fine now.’

In a bid to demonstrate that she didn’t hate it, and praying that the temperature would be a little more bearable, she tipped the battered flower back into her mouth and crunched into it.

‘So?’ said Jack, watching closely. ‘Out of ten?’

‘Ten,’ replied Sasha, and switched it with her tongue from one cheek wall to the other. It didn’t taste bad as such; a little bland, maybe, but she sensed that somehow an honest opinion would offend. ‘Definitely a ten,’ she added instead, and prepared for a testing evening.

As darkness settled, Vernon English wondered whether he should write off the day. He had staked out the Savage house since the camera crew rolled in. Now they had packed up and left, but still Titus remained inside. Vernon figured a City shark like him wouldn’t completely switch off from work for the weekend. Given the questionable methods the private investigator had witnessed him employ, surely he’d use the time to meet up informally and off the record with other players in the looming takeover? No, Vernon couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the man for a moment.

At the same time, after nearly ten hours in the van, he was ravenously hungry.

‘Come on, Titus, old son,’ he muttered to himself at one point. ‘A guy has got to eat.’

Half an hour later, just as Vernon was about to put a call into his favourite Indian restaurant to see if they’d bike him a Tandoori king prawn and naan bread, his man made an appearance. The private investigator sat up straight in the driver’s seat. There at the front door, silhouetted by the light from the hall, Titus Savage kissed his wife on the cheek before turning for his 4x4. He had one of those holdalls on wheels with him. It looked heavy, judging by the effort Titus put into heaving it onto the back seat. If Titus was about to head out on business, Vernon would be ready.

The private investigator may have neglected to pack a sandwich, but he had an overnight bag on the back seat and a passport in the glove compartment. Living alone, he could fly at a moment’s notice. The company that hired him were convinced that Titus operated outside the law. Desperate for evidence, and with time running out, they had instructed Vernon to do whatever was necessary. Checking his key was in the ignition, Vernon waited for Titus to pull out onto the road and hoped they were heading somewhere nice. New York or Barcelona. Any place known for its restaurants and street food.

Vernon kept his distance as they made their way out of the city. He had tailed many people throughout the course of his career, and never been spotted by anyone. Titus wasn’t difficult to follow. He was a careful, considered driver. He didn’t once break the speed limit, and slowed long before he passed through a speed trap. In a way, it was just too easy. Vernon drove with one hand on the wheel, sighing to himself every now and then as he braked to keep his distance. Without doubt, Titus was heading for the motorway orbital. The private investigator knew this stretch of road well. He was also well aware that they were about to pass a drive-in. His stomach had been rumbling over the sound of the van’s radio. Having last eaten at breakfast time, he felt weak with hunger. It would take him no time at all to collect a maxi bag of chicken nuggets and a strawberry shake. He’d easily catch up with Titus before he reached the motorway. As the neon sign for the drive-in loomed into view, it seemed to him that there could be no other option. Given that his next meal might not come until he was strapped into an airplane seat, it made sense to fuel up now. Leaving Titus to trundle on, Vernon accelerated off the road and screeched to a halt before the serving hatch. It was, without a doubt, the most exciting thing he’d done all day.