The Savages (23 page)

‘Hi,' said Ralph, and gestured at the seat opposite. ‘What can I get you?'

Sasha lit up at the young man she had spoken to briefly at the university talk. He was as scruffy as she remembered, with a heartfelt smile and a crinkle beside each eye that told her how much he liked to laugh.

‘Whatever you're having is good,' she said. ‘So long as it isn't vegan.'

Sasha had given Ralph her number during the interval. It had been good for her to meet someone who was also embarking on a trial without meat at the same time. Ralph shared the same hopes, doubts and weaknesses as she did, and so when he asked to keep in touch she didn't look for an excuse. As he tapped the digits into his phone, he had jokingly promised not to stalk her. Sasha had been too shy to ask for his number in return. It didn't seem right, given that she was supposedly with her boyfriend. It was only afterwards, on the drive home, that she began to hold out hope that he would call. Jack had just not stopped talking about Amanda. It wasn't only her bonkers beliefs that he admired. He even praised her sense of style and the courage he felt it would've taken for her to stand up and share her views. Then, on dropping off Sasha at her house, he'd had the nerve to try it on with her again. Sasha had responded to his wandering hands by climbing out of the hybrid. That evening, she had gone to bed hoping Jack would wake up and realise how insensitive he'd been. Instead, he'd gone quiet on her. More immediately, to Sasha's surprise, she found she wasn't greatly upset about it.

Jack had opened her eyes to many things, and that included the growing realisation that she just wasn't that into him. He'd certainly swept her off her feet in the beginning, and seduced her with his views on food, but beyond that he only seemed to be interested in bedding her. Sasha had been prepared to see how things panned out, to give him a chance to show he had a deeper side, but seeing him flounce from the house over the prank with the tea just convinced her it was over. She hadn't felt too bad about it. That Jack hadn't been in touch himself made her think the feeling was mutual.

‘Jack and I want different things,' she told Ralph over coffee. ‘But I don't have any regrets. They say you should always try something before you decide whether or not you like it.'

Ralph smiled, clasping his mug with both hands.

‘I didn't know if I should call you,' he said after a moment. ‘I hope it's OK.'

Sasha was pleased that he had. Ralph really seemed like a genuine guy. At the same time, after everything that had happened with Jack, she realised just then that what she needed here was friendship. As someone else setting out on the same path as her, she could see in Ralph's eyes that he felt the same way.

‘So, how are you getting on with the whole vegetarian thing?'

Ralph set his mug down on the table.

‘Well, it's tough!' he said. ‘I'm definitely a veggie at heart. I just can't speak for my stomach sometimes.'

‘Any bacon moments?'

‘Oh, constantly.'

‘Me, too.' Sasha grinned, her eyes locked on his. Ralph held her gaze with ease.

‘I need to tell you something,' he said finally. ‘It's confession time.'

‘Go on.'

Ralph toyed with the sugar sachet.

‘Once or twice over the last couple of days,' he told her, ‘I've given in to temptation.'

‘No!' Sasha pretended to look shocked, but laughed despite herself. ‘Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if I did the same thing.'

‘Really?'

Sasha considered what she had to say next.

OK, it's my turn,' she began. ‘Sometimes, I crave something so unspeakable I can't even put it into words.'

‘More unspeakable than bacon?'

‘Oh,
so
unspeakable.'

‘Want to try me?'

‘No,' said Sasha, ‘but it feels good just telling you that. Like a weight off my shoulders.'

Ralph held her gaze for a moment, and then chuckled.

‘So, why not give in to temptation?' he suggested. ‘It won't kill you.'

Sasha thought about this for a moment.

‘I suppose there are no rules to say that I can't.'

‘Exactly,' said Ralph. ‘All these people beating themselves up about not eating this or only eating that. I'm beginning to think sometimes it's best to just go with what feels good.'

Finding herself nodding before he had even finished, Sasha smiled and wagged a finger at him playfully.

‘You're a bad influence,' she told him. ‘Just when I've been doing so well.'

‘Hey, don't let me influence your eating habits.' Ralph held up his hands, grinning still. ‘I'm not here to judge you.'

‘Glad to hear it,' said Sasha. ‘And I'm not here to give you a hard time about bacon. A treat is good for the soul every now and then.'

‘So it is,' said Ralph. ‘Especially on white bread with ketchup.'

‘We all have our favourites,' agreed Sasha.

‘I'm glad I'm not alone.'

Sasha glanced at the table, as if summoning the courage to speak from the heart.

‘You're not alone,' she said quietly.

Ralph nodded, still playing with the sachet.

‘Likewise.'

For a second they said nothing. There was no need. The silence was only broken when Sasha's mobile phone began to ring. She glanced at the name on the screen and immediately rejected the call.

‘That's the first time Jack's tried to reach me since he slammed our front door in my face,' said Sasha. ‘I wonder what he wants now?'

‘You should speak to him.'

Sasha pocketed her phone.

‘I will,' she promised. ‘It's important that one of us does the right thing.'

Vernon English came to his senses over the course of an hour. At first, as he surfaced from the anaesthetic properties of the drug vapour he'd inhaled, he struggled to register anything more than the fact that he was still alive. His whole body felt like a dead weight, not least his head, which throbbed madly. As for his surroundings, Vernon's clouded brain initially told him that he must be in the hold of a ship at sea, for all he could hear was the creaking of timber and ropes. Eventually, he summoned the presence of mind to open his eyes. Thanks to a solitary light bulb, he realised that he was in fact in a concrete-lined room, with no windows or door. It contained one plastic chair and a tall, wall-mounted steel cabinet. Both appeared to be upside down, he noted as his vision continued to recover. A moment later, the private investigator realised the furnishings just looked like that because he was strung up by his ankles from an oak beam overhead.

‘Hnngghh!' he croaked, though his appeal for help was muffled by the gag in his mouth. Vernon twisted and bucked against his restraints, which wasn't easy as his hands were also tied behind his back. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out, both eyes wide with fear. A closed hatch in the ceiling corner offered the only way in and out, with iron rungs fixed to the wall that served as a ladder. Vernon followed the rungs with his eyes. At the bottom, beside a drain, he spotted his cap. Not only had it come adrift from his head, which always left him feeling exposed, it looked badly trampled. ‘
Hnngghh!
'

It wasn't until some hours later, when he gave up hope of raising the alarm, that Vernon found himself in company. His temples felt as if they might burst. This wasn't just down to the blood sloshing around in his skull. At one point, he had tried to raise the alarm by swinging himself against the wall. After a couple of minutes of banging his head against the rock hard surface, he had succeeded only in temporarily knocking himself out. Since then, he'd just dangled there and sobbed quietly. Tears streaked his forehead, and though he occasionally pulled and tugged at the ropes that bound him, Vernon English was a defeated man. Even when the hatch pulled away, a second passed before he glanced up. Two faces peered down at him. Despite the gloom, he immediately recognised the bald dome of Titus Savage and his son's intense stare.

‘Is he ready?' asked the boy.

Titus climbed down into the space. He stood back from the trussed man hanging upside down before him and then produced a wallet from his back pocket. Immediately, Vernon recognised it as his own.

‘Vernon Ray English. Forty-four-year-old Caucasian male. A private eye, which is no surprise. He's divorced and lives alone.'

‘That's good,' said Ivan, climbing down beside his father. ‘Isn't that good?'

‘It means he's less likely to be missed,' said Titus, who was now sizing Vernon up and down. He stepped closer to his terror-struck captive, whose muffled gasped marked the moment Titus began to gently press his sides and stomach. ‘The liver is a little enlarged, which is often down to alcohol, but the kidneys are in good shape.'

‘He looks healthy enough,' observed Ivan. ‘In a tired sort of way.'

Titus slapped Vernon's left thigh, before taking a step back.

‘He'll need stripping down and washing,' he said next. ‘And shaving, of course.'

Vernon responded to each instruction with a squeak and a whimper.

‘I can do all that,' said Ivan eagerly, before facing up to his father. ‘I can do … everything.'

Titus thought about this for a moment.

‘Very well,' he said, only to caution him by extending a finger. ‘Just be nice, OK? I'm letting you do this alone because I trust you to have respect for this gentleman.'

‘I won't let you down, Dad. I promise.'

Ivan held his father's gaze, who nodded to himself after a moment.

‘My boy,' said Titus eventually, and ruffled his hair. ‘It's time to make a man of you.'

By now, Vernon was making an almighty noise. Seized by panic, he began thrashing like an escapologist over flames. Titus and Ivan observed him calmly, as if they'd seen it all before. Finally, Titus grasped the man by one arm, and waited for him to fall still. Then he crouched and yanked the gag from his mouth.

‘Let me go!' Vernon begged him, gasping for air at the same time. ‘Whatever you want with me, we can pretend it never happened.'

‘We could do that,' agreed Titus, ‘but I have to think of my family.'

Vernon struggled to keep his composure from cracking.

‘What kind of family are you?' he asked, sobbing at the same time.

‘A private one,' Titus told him. ‘A family that doesn't take kindly to people bugging their kitchen.'

‘I know you had something to do with the death of Lulabelle Hart,' spat Vernon. ‘You're not just a crooked businessman. I should've gone to the police with my suspicions!'

Ivan looked up at his father.

‘Lulabelle was an accident,' said Titus, as if speaking for his son.

‘But we didn't eat her,' added Ivan, who seemed surprised when Vernon responded with a harrowing scream.

Jack Greenway was not used to being ignored. Three times he had tried to reach Sasha by phone. On each occasion, it had rung off before her answer machine kicked in. Finally, he had texted her, a simple ‘WTF?' but that too had failed to draw a response.

Jack also knew that he only had himself to blame. Ever since the thing with the tea and the knife, he'd done his level best to avoid Sasha. Amanda had become his top priority, but now there was a problem. In order to fulfil her fantasy, which he hoped would earn him a very special reward, he needed to get back into Sasha's good books so as to gain access to her house. Finally, Jack went looking for her one lunch break. As he'd failed to show up with his Tupperware container at the skate ramp all week, he learned from Faria and Maisy that Sasha had gone to the nearby express supermarket to buy a sandwich. When Faria cheekily invited him to sit with them and share the box, it was clear he felt his efforts had gone to waste.

‘Another time,' he said with a sigh. ‘It isn't the same without Sasha.'

Later, after lessons had finished for the day, Jack was spotted in the sixth form car park. He was sitting in his hybrid, picking at the contents of his container with his fingers, clearly brooding. He was just dropping a pinch of bulgur wheat with pomegranate seeds into his mouth when a knock at the driver's side window caused him to sprinkle it down his shirt.

‘
Sasha!
' Hurriedly, Jack wound down the window. ‘I've been trying to get hold of you.'

‘Is now good?' she asked.

‘Perfect!' said Jack, stowing the box and brushing himself down. ‘Where shall we go?'

Sasha looked at him uncomfortably.

‘I haven't got long,' she told him. ‘I promised Mum I'd be back to help out in the kitchen. We have a big meal planned for the weekend.'

‘Then let me drive you home,' said Jack, thinking at the same time that this would be just the opportunity he needed to talk her into inviting him round.

‘I'm not sure,' replied Sasha hesitantly. ‘There's just something I need you to know.'

Jack pressed the ignition button.

‘Tell me on the way,' he said, and gestured at the passenger seat. ‘In this car we'll barely leave a carbon footprint.'

For the first few minutes of the journey, the pair exchanged small talk. Jack reported that the vegan life was like finding his spiritual home, and while Sasha complimented him on the commitment her voice lacked enthusiasm. Jack wondered whether she had relapsed as a carnivore, but reminded himself that his goal here was to make sure Sasha felt that things were good again between them. It wouldn't be difficult, he thought to himself. She was crazy about him.

‘I like your mascara,' he said, without taking his eyes off the road. ‘It really suits you.'

‘I'm not wearing any.' Sasha wound down the window by an inch to get some air. ‘Jack, this thing we have—'

‘It's going places,' he cut in, and shifted up a gear. ‘I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately, but I really do feel we're heading in the right direction.'