‘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?’