Matt Whyman - The Savages

‘In your hands,’ he said anyway, ‘I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Now, what’s everyone else doing?’

‘Ivan and Grandpa are in their rooms.’ Angelica returned to the hob before she finished. ‘We’re expecting Sasha any time now.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Oh, just out,’ she said, with her back to Titus. ‘I’m not sure where.’

Titus considered this news in silence. Out without knowing where didn’t sound good in his books. Yes, Sasha was a growing girl, but somehow it was all just going a bit too fast for his liking. He didn’t want to keep her under lock and key. Far from it. But if she was out there taking risks, he wanted to make sure she kept those risks to a minimum, or even eradicated them completely. He had been raised to believe in this approach to life, and that’s what he strived to pass on to the next generation.

‘Sasha really needs to let us know where she’s going,’ he grumbled. ‘Have you texted her?’

Angelica faced her husband.

‘She promised to be home in time for supper,’ she said, with some tension in her voice. ‘We have to give her a chance.’

Titus held her gaze for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged. He returned his attention to his youngest daughter, who was shuffling across the floorboards. Slowly, his expression brightened.

‘You know it won’t be long before Katya eats with us. She’s shaping up to be quite the Savage.’

Angelica smiled adoringly.

‘All in good time,’ she said. ‘Let the last of her teeth come through first.’

Titus nodded to himself and then lifted his daughter into his arms.

‘Well, let’s hope that day comes soon. It’ll be such an honour to have all my family around the table!’

Ninety minutes later, with the baby monitor beside the toaster indicating that Katya was asleep in her cot, Sasha returned home to find herself late for supper.

‘Hi,’ she said breezily, well aware that her dad had that face on him again. There he was with one elbow on the table, gazing across at her with the fork poised like a spear fisherman.

‘Dinner is in the wok,’ he told her. ‘Your mother had it ready some time ago.’

Angelica had served up a stir fry from the remains of yesterday’s meal. Ivan was close to finishing. He made a lot of noise sucking in the last noodles before picking up the bowl to drink down the broth. It was only when he set it back on the table that he found everyone looking at him.

‘Oh, Ivan,’ said Angelica. ‘How many times?’

At first, it looked as if Titus would also turn his displeasure on his son. Instead, leaving the boy with a stern look, Ivan waited for Sasha to take her place at the table. She was hungry, having skipped lunch to spend time with Jack, and had heaped her bowl with food. Any hope she might have had about getting away without being questioned stopped at her first mouthful.

‘So.’ Titus paused and cleared his throat. ‘Been on a date?’

Sasha traded glances between her parents, chewing at the same time.

‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I was at a friend’s house finishing a project for school.’

Titus didn’t look as if he believed a word she’d just said. Even though it was the truth, he continued to look at her as if awaiting a confession. Sensing an atmosphere thicken, it was Angelica who changed the subject.

‘Marsha called this morning,’ she announced. ‘We have a booking for the weekend.’

Her news was met with a brief silence.

‘What’s wrong with the week?’ asked Titus, and scraped his fork around the bowl. ‘When I’m out at work.’

‘It’s a magazine shoot paying double rate.’ Angelica bristled in her seat. ‘And they’ll be here until late on Saturday.

It was Ivan who groaned, though his dad pulled the very same face.

‘That means we’ll be stuck upstairs all day!’ the boy protested. ‘It’s so boring with people in the house!’

‘Why don’t you spend time with friends?’ asked Sasha quietly, and then smiled to herself because that wasn’t an option for her kid brother. ‘Oh yeah,’ she said, as if to answer her own question. ‘You don’t have any.’

Titus balled his napkin and deposited it in his bowl. Then he drew Angelica’s attention to the kitchen surfaces.

‘After last night’s feast we’re going to have to work very hard to get this place ready,’ he told her. ‘I wish you’d run this past me first.’

Angelica listened to each complaint in turn looking increasingly tense.

‘Actually, I’ll be out that evening,’ said Sasha. ‘You should all do the same thing.’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Titus. ‘Shouldn’t you check with us first?’

Even though Sasha expected this kind of response from her father, it didn’t stop her feeling a little suffocated.

‘OK, well, I am going on a date, actually. Jack is cooking.’

‘A veggie meal?’ Ivan sneered at her sister. ‘That’s not a date. It’s just disappointing.’

Sitting opposite her brother, Sasha just stared at her brother as if to offer him a chance to face his own reflection in her eyes.

‘Don’t you have a chess game waiting?’ she asked. ‘Those pawns won’t move themselves.’

‘Well, I think it’s a lovely gesture!’ Angelica attempted to sound bright in a bid to support her daughter. ‘Though you should make sure you eat properly at lunchtime just in case.’

‘Now hold on!’ Titus raised a hand to command their attention. ‘Sasha, we really ought to meet this young man. It’s called responsible parenting. We can’t have our daughter going off with just anyone. We need to know he has your best interests at heart. Until then, I’m going to have to say no to an evening out.’

‘Dad!’ Sasha pushed back her chair to stand, which made an unpleasant scraping noise across the tiles. ‘You’re being so unreasonable about this. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.’

‘Sit down and eat,’ said Titus.

‘I’m not hungry any more,’ Sasha told him. ‘Sorry, Mum.’

Angelica gestured for her to leave the room. Under the circumstances, it was better that both father and daughter cooled off at that moment.

‘We’ll discuss this later!’ Titus called after her, raising his voice this time.

‘There’s nothing more to say.’ Sasha left him with a withering look, and then closed the door behind her.

‘Now just a minute, young lady! No daughter of mine has the last word in this house!’

A moment later, under the gaze of his wife and son, Titus Savage paid the price for disturbing the peace when the baby monitor popped and crackled.

‘ Mince! ’

Oleg Fedor Savadski, a former officer in the Russian Red Army, took a pinch of fish food and sprinkled it into the bowl. This was how Sasha found him when she reached his open door.

‘Hey, Grandpa. What’s happening?’

‘Do you know what goldfish thrive on more than anything else?’ he asked, peering through the glass as the two inhabitants rose to nibble at the flakes.

‘Is it their short-term memory?’ Sasha closed the door behind her. ‘I should imagine forgetting your past and starting afresh must be quite appealing sometimes.’

Oleg glanced at his granddaughter for a moment, before returning his attention to the bowl.

‘The answer is fish meal and fish oil,’ he told her, and turned to show her the tub in his hand. ‘It’s central to their diet. Feasting on their own kind is what brings out the very best in them. Yes, you can offer them a vegetable substitute but they quickly lose their zest, and I only want the best for my babies.’

Oleg, known simply to his family as Grandpa, was exactly one year away from celebrating a century in this world. Like his son, Titus, he sported a bald dome and thick eyebrows. His long grey beard was the most striking aspect of a man who had shrunken and withered over the years. It made him appear immensely wise, like someone who had produced several tomes of epic Russian novels. It was a look that fell away when food became trapped in the strands, however. Then he would appear more like the kind of lost soul you might find shouting at bins in a back alley. Since the last of his teeth had lost their moorings, Grandpa preferred his food in liquidised form. Whatever was on the menu, Angelica just passed it through the blender and he would literally lap it up. Like the rest of the family, Grandpa had enjoyed a stir fry made up of the leftovers from the day before. His bowl sat on a tray at the table under the skylight, along with the straw he had used to ingest it.