Matt Whyman - The Savages

‘Make it snappy,’ he told the youngster serving him. ‘Got a flight to catch.’

A minute after placing his order, with the shake lodged between his thighs and a bucket of nuggets riding alongside him, Vernon fishtailed back onto the road and hit the accelerator. By his reckoning, Titus would be back in his sights within thirty seconds at most.

Twenty miles later, cursing at the top of his voice, Vernon English was forced to join the motorway with no sign of the man he had set out to follow. He wasn’t even sure that Titus had headed in the direction of the airport. All he could do was follow his instinct and drive there any way. Just then, with the shake finished, the last nugget in the bucket at his side tasted like a very bitter pill indeed.

Thankfully for the Savages, Lulabelle Hart had been supple and forgiving when they came to fold her into the holdall. From experience, Titus knew that the muscles in a corpse slowly began to stiffen from around the three-hour mark. It took between twelve and twenty-four hours before the body became totally rigid for a while. So long as everything went to plan, as it had on previous occasions, he would be unpacking her with plenty of time to spare. Titus anticipated a little resistance, of course, but he really didn’t want to be breaking a sweat trying to straighten the model’s limbs before letting her go.

Even with rigor mortis in mind, Titus was in no hurry to reach the coast. Rushing always led to mistakes, which was something he had learned at a very early age. It was his late mother who taught him the importance of patience. We take our time in the kitchen and look at the results , she would say. It’s the same when it comes to covering our tracks.

On the way, Titus considered what to do with his son. Ivan was a complicated boy, but this incident in the bathroom was quite a wake-up call. A cry for help, in many ways, he thought to himself on reflection. It left Titus feeling guilty. As a father, had he let him down? Work took up so much of his time, especially lately with the big takeover he had lined up. Still, that was no excuse. If he’d spent the day with Ivan, instead of shutting himself away in his study, then he wouldn’t be driving into the night with a dead diva in the boot.

By the time he arrived at his destination, which took the shape of an empty headland car park, Titus resolved to return a different man. He owed it not just to his son but Sasha, too. He had been a little hard on her about this boy. She had shown maturity in handling the situation, and as her father he needed to acknowledge that. Just then, however, he had a job to do. Titus climbed out of the 4x4, collecting his coat and a scarf from the passenger seat. It was a clear, cool night, with a hint of salt on the breeze. A mothball moon hung over the ocean. The water glittered underneath it, like a silver carpet rolled out from the horizon, but now was not the time to admire the view. Extending the handle to the holdall, Titus made his way across the headland towards the cliff edge.

As a beauty spot, Beachy Head was unbeatable. As a suicide magnet, the towering chalk cliff edge was notorious for drawing the despondent. Given the impact wound to the back of Lulabelle’s Hart’s head, dropping her body onto the rocks way below seemed like the only option available to Titus. She’d pick up many more injuries on her way down, after all, which would cover the real cause of death. At the foot of the cliff, she’d just be another sad statistic. He took no pleasure in considering this. If anything, he felt quite maudlin as he plodded across the grass. Titus was so lost in thought, in fact, dwelling on how he’d failed his son, that for a moment he didn’t register the figure sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. When he finally realised what he was facing, he stopped in his tracks and released his grip on the holdall handle. Then, moving slowly so as not to startle or alarm the young man, Titus stepped wide until he drew alongside him. He guessed the guy was in his early twenties, despite weeping to himself like a lost little boy.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ said Titus finally, with both hands in his coat pockets. ‘It would be a shame if this was your last.’

The young man looked around with a start. Hurriedly, he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Titus nodded in greeting, and then returned his gaze to the horizon line.

‘Leave me alone,’ he heard him mutter. ‘You don’t know me.’

‘No, but I know why you’re here. You’re a jumper, right?’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘But it’s true.’ Titus turned to face him. ‘And the fact that you can’t even handle hearing the word tells me you don’t really want to take your own life. Right now, the idea is more attractive than the reality.’

The young man choked back a sob. Titus noted the bicycle in the grass behind him, and marked him down as a local.

‘It’s all gone wrong,’ he croaked. ‘Everything.’

Titus watched him weep for a moment. Then he produced a handkerchief from his pocket.

‘Here,’ he said, and stepped a little closer. ‘Dry your eyes.’

At first the young man refused it, but Titus insisted.

‘I loved her,’ he said, and blew his nose. ‘I know everyone says that breaking up hurts, but I can’t go on without her in my life. There’s no reason for me to be here any more.’

‘I can think of one,’ said Titus straight away. ‘Your family.’

‘What do they care?’ he sniffed. ‘I left home last year.’

‘But you never leave their hearts,’ said Titus, and tapped his chest. ‘Whatever stage you’re at in life, you’ll always find a place there.’

The young man wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. Then he screwed up his eyes and attempted to hold back a sob.

‘My parents won’t care,’ he said, and dug his fingernails into the grass as if braced to push himself off.

‘Oh, they care all right!’ Titus held out his hand, bidding him to halt. At the same time, he was ready if the guy chose to reach out for him. ‘Trust me. As a father, it’s my role to be there for my kids, even if they turn their backs on me.’

‘You reckon?’ The young man looked like he was listening at least.

‘No doubt about it,’ Titus assured him. ‘Everyone has to tread their own path through life, and make mistakes along the way. I just hope my children know that when they screw up my door is always open.’

The guy was just staring at Titus now. Finally, he blinked as if a spell had broken.

‘Anyway, what are you doing out here at this time?’

‘Well, I’ve no plans to throw myself off,’ said Titus. ‘I’d rather be at home with my wife, in fact. It’s where I belong.’

For a moment, the pair looked out across the sea in silence.

‘I cycled straight here when I read her note,’ said the man eventually. ‘She’d taken her stuff and everything. Killing myself seemed like the only option.’

‘You want to kill the pain,’ said Titus, as if to correct him. ‘That’s understandable, and I imagine just putting it into words right now is helping you to feel a little better.’

This time the man offered a brief smile,

‘I guess.’

‘So, why don’t you take that crappy bike of yours and head back to your folks? Doesn’t matter when you last saw them or what was said. Trust me, whenever you’re in trouble it’s the only place to be.’

The young man just stared at Titus for a second. Then he turned and bowed his head. Titus watched him, close to tears himself, and then smiled when he climbed to his feet and took a step away from the cliff edge.

‘Is everything OK?’ the man asked next, as he collected his bike from the grass. It was a comment he would go on to share with the investigating officers some months later, for the shaven-headed guardian angel who had just saved his life appeared to be welling up.