Matt Whyman - The Savages

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.