by Matt Whyman
It couldn’t last on both counts, he decided, and headed for the kitchen.
At this hour, the rising sun shone directly across the inlet and through the kitchen window. Titus and his father stood at the foot of the jetty. With their backs turned to the villa, leaning side by side against the rail, they watched sailing boats cross their line of sight in silhouette.
‘This lady friend,’ said Titus, who had heard his father’s plea to allow her to join the table. ‘She’s really dying?’
Oleg faced into the breeze for a moment, as if to freshen his composure.
‘Would I be asking you for any other reason?’ he said next. ‘Consuming our own kind is the key to life, Titus. We both know that. I’m living proof. Look at me? I’m fit, healthy and 103! My old bones might not be as flexible as they once were, but I’m still here, and with a companion I have come to treasure.’ Oleg stopped there, as if to find another way to persuade his son. ‘Without Priscilla,’ he said finally, ‘I would struggle.’
It was quite clear to Titus that Oleg was speaking from the heart. He understood his reasons for this appeal, but just one person had ever joined them around the table for a feast, and that was Amanda. And only then because she had walked in on the family as they dined. Had she reacted with horror, she would’ve wound up as dessert. Instead, presented with a carnivorous solution to her problem with regular meat eaters, she had helped herself to a plate and never looked back. Of course, it was one more mouth to feed, and Titus felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Inviting yet another individual just increased the risk that their secret would spill out.
‘No doubt a feast keeps us in the very best shape,’ said Titus, ‘but if Priscilla’s condition is terminal, there is little we can do.’
‘We can try!’
Titus was taken aback by the force of Oleg’s response. Just then, it was clear that his father wasn’t going to return to the nursing home with his hopes crushed.
‘Does she know?’ he asked. ‘About us?’
‘Of course not,’ said Oleg.
‘Could we invite her to join us and just tell her it’s a leg of lamb?’
Even as he made this suggestion, Titus knew that his father would never stomach such a thing. As the family had discussed on several occasions, feeding an innocent human flesh without their knowledge could have huge consequences. The experience would bring such elation that it risked condemning them to a hunger they wouldn’t know how to feed for the rest of their lives. Chances are they’d exist in a constant state of disappointment, confusion and longing. Besides, it tasted nothing like lamb. People were a cut above pork as well.
‘Priscilla trusts me completely,’ the old man told him. ‘I would never lie to her, and you can rely on me to make sure she never breaks our trust.’
Titus sighed to himself and looked to the lawn between them.
‘I accept that she’s important to you,’ he said.
Slowly, as he processed what this meant, Oleg straightened up and muttered silent words of thanks.
‘When can we do it?’ he asked. ‘This weekend?’
‘Out of the question.’ Titus looked pained. ‘We’ve only just had a feast. I’m not going to be greedy here. Besides,’ he added, and glanced away, ‘we have a café to open.’
‘Then whenever the time is right,’ said Oleg. ‘Just, please don’t leave it too late.’
Titus nodded, acknowledging that they had an understanding here.
‘But if she freaks out at any time,’ he finished quietly, ‘you do understand what would have to be done.’
Oleg held his son’s gaze.
‘It won’t come to that,’ he said in assurance. ‘Should Priscilla react badly to the invitation then nature will take her course.’
Titus nodded solemnly.
‘She’s that close to death, huh?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ said Oleg, and tightened his grip on his walking stick.
21
Amanda Dias didn’t make a habit of skipping breakfast. A healthy eater, she preferred to start the day on a full stomach. On this occasion, however, with the family together in the kitchen, she decided there was no way she could spoon down a bowl of muesli without gagging over the stench of cooked pig flesh. Besides, now that everyone had been persuaded to climb on board with her plans for the café, Amanda was in employment again.
‘I’m going to seize the day,’ she told them, grabbing the keys for the building, ‘and slice it up like a cucumber.’
Things were different for her now. This wasn’t some wretched job that earned her no respect and little money. In transforming a run-down strip club into the finest vegan eatery in town, Amanda faced a challenge that could bring her great personal reward. What’s more, she would be working with a family who knew how to get a job done with ruthless efficiency.
‘What we’re planting here are the seeds of a food revolution,’ she told Lev and Kiril later that morning. The pair had shown up on request to establish the cost of refurbishing the place. They appeared less than engaged as Amanda took them through the plans, and glanced at one another as she waxed about the wonders of an establishment where everything animal-related was off the menu. ‘This is where it all begins, my friends. And you’re the ones to make it happen!’
Lev cleared his throat before fishing a wallet from his shirt pocket.
‘We appreciate your enthusiasm, sweetheart. Just tell us what you need to get it done.’
‘The quicker we’re up and running,’ added Kiril, ‘the sooner we can sleep at night.’
Rather than risk angering Zolotov further, the pair had agreed to advance funds for the refurbishment themselves. Such was their fear of the man that they didn’t question the figure, or the terms that the family went on to propose. Calling upon his experience in buying and renovating apartments, Titus presented his costs for the turnaround, fixtures and fittings, while Angelica priced the furnishings. A seasoned homemaker, she insisted on overseeing everything from the painting and decoration to the tables and chairs, and when Ivan showed up after school with his little sister they found that his interest lay with the kitchen and its equipment. It was Amanda who stocked the cupboards, shelves and the walk-in freezer. With religious zeal, she sourced her vegan produce from local markets, smallholders and farmsteads, striking supply deals with a confidence that exceeded her years.
Within days, the old sports bar had been stripped down like a carcass in a cloud of blowflies. A week later, despite his misgivings about the direction this venture had taken, Titus stood outside the building with his family and the lodger, appraising the fruits of their labours. Gone was the neon piping, as had the grilles from the windows. A lick of paint freshened the exterior, and the surrounding weeds had been cut away and replaced by geraniums in planters.
‘The Lentil Rebel,’ he said, reading from the signage that now graced the front of the porch. Shaking his head, Titus turned to his wife. ‘What the hell are we doing here?’
‘Going into business,’ she said, and then waited for him to look at her. ‘Covering ourselves.’
‘I’m all in favour of a new challenge,’ he said, ‘but it sounds about as enticing as a limp lettuce.’
‘It sounds honest,’ Amanda said to correct him. ‘People know exactly what they’re getting on their plates, all at affordable prices.’
‘Our feasts are free,’ muttered Ivan, who stood with his school bag at his feet. ‘At least the main ingredient doesn’t cost anything.’
At that moment Katya skipped out onto the porch. She was clutching one of the helium balloons that Angelica had commissioned in preparation for the opening. Just seeing his youngest daughter melted away any reservations Titus harboured.
‘Well, if it proves to be a success then I’m happy,’ he told them. ‘I see it as an investment for the family.’
‘Kiril and Lev seem relieved,’ said Amanda. ‘They dropped by earlier with the permits and the first float for the till.’
Angelica glanced at Titus disapprovingly.
‘Everything is under control,’ he assured her. ‘We’re doing nothing wrong here. That side of things is for our backers to worry about.’
‘Our job is to fill the tables,’ said Amanda.
Titus turned his attention to the lodger.
‘We’re placing a lot of faith in you here,’ he told her. ‘Bringing in the customers is one thing. Seeing them leave satisfied is another. With no meat in their bellies, I have my reservations.’
‘It can’t fail,’ she declared, grinning in a way that left Titus feeling uneasy. ‘On the day we open the doors, all you have to do is be the perfect host!’
Titus heard her clearly, but didn’t respond for a moment.
‘But my job here is done,’ he said eventually, and invited her to look around. ‘The kind of people you’re hoping to attract? I’m not sure I could look them straight in the eye.’
Amanda glanced at Angelica, who placed a hand on her husband’s arm. Immediately, Titus understood that the two women had already discussed the issue.
‘When it comes to feasts,’ Angelica said, ‘you always know how to make it a special occasion. Amanda believes our first customers would feel in good hands with you.’
Oleg Savage was hugely relieved to see Priscilla return from the medical centre to the Fallen Pine Nursing Home. She did so by ambulance, but appeared quite happy and serene as the medics lowered her by wheelchair on the tail lift.
‘You scared me,’ he told her the next day at breakfast. ‘But you don’t have to worry, because I’ve made arrangements for that meal with my family.’
‘I hear they’ve been busy down by the riverside,’ said Priscilla, who looked pale from her stay on the ward, but seemed in good spirits nonetheless. ‘Will this meal be vegan? I’ve never eaten vegan. Italian I love, and Mexican, before I stopped eating spicy, but vegan is new to me.’
‘It isn’t a regional thing,’ explained Oleg uncomfortably.
Priscilla grinned at him.
‘This family feast,’ she asked. ‘Is it an aphrodisiac?’
Oleg sensed his cheeks flush beneath his beard. He smiled despite himself.
‘Don’t you ever stop?’
‘In the grave, maybe.’ Priscilla reached out to pat his leg. ‘But I’m not promising.’
‘All I can say is that it’ll be the meal of a lifetime,’ said Oleg, and pressed his palm over her hand. ‘Like nothing you’ve experienced before.’
‘It’s never too late to try something new,’ she said. ‘Even this vegan venture sounds like it might be easy to digest.’
‘The café opens at the weekend,’ Oleg told her. ‘I hope they make a success of it, of course, but the menu is not to my taste.’ He stopped to pull some orange juice through the straw in his glass. ‘Nothing compares to Angelica’s home cooking, which I think you’ll find restorative … miraculous even,’ he added, tapping his nose. ‘Priscilla, it could bring us many more happy years together.’
Despite her failing sight, Priscilla held his gaze so intently it felt as if she was looking straight through him.
‘Oleg, my condition is terminal. You do understand that, don’t you?’
The old man didn’t flinch. Not at first. Then he blinked and cleared his throat.
‘You know, it often goes unremarked, but some hunting packs will go to great lengths to take care of the sick. African wild dogs, jackals and grey wolves all make sacrifices to save their own. If food is an issue, they’ll share it.’
Priscilla tipped her head to one side.
‘I thought they killed the weak.’
‘Those packs at the top of the food chain have a pecking order,’ he agreed. ‘But they also possess a strong instinct for protection.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Priscilla chuckled, enjoying this moment if nothing else. ‘Oleg, I will happily join your … pack for supper, but in return I want you to face the facts and just help me enjoy what I have left.’
‘I’m serious,’ he insisted. ‘This feast won’t just fill your belly. It’ll get into your blood, your bones, your soul. Priscilla, you’ll leave the table feeling born again!’
With some effort, she turned her chair to face him.
‘So, level with me,’ she said. ‘What exactly is your family planning to cook here?’
‘Just a meat,’ Oleg replied, a little too quickly, but he wasn’t planning on revealing any more at this time. The last thing he wanted to do was take Priscilla by surprise. Not in her condition. Aware that she was expecting a better explanation, he reminded himself not to look so tense. ‘What we’ll be eating is reared responsibly,’ he added, ‘and cooked to perfection.’
‘Well, that certainly sounds promising,’ she told him, and her face lit up with her smile. ‘I’ve always loved a roast supper, and clearly you Savages know how to make it memorable.’
‘We do indeed.’ All of a sudden, Oleg Savage found he couldn’t take his eyes away from her.
Priscilla’s smile arched to one side and duly transformed into a cheeky grin.
‘So, where’s my medicine for the day?’ she asked.
Oleg frowned, thinking at first that she had confused him for the nurse. Then she puckered her lips, and he knew just what was required.
22
When Joaquín Mendez saw him coming, the young man had been picking his way through a grilled chicken and cornbread salad with low-fat lime dressing. Still struggling to restore his appetite, Joaquín was well aware that the demands of his job required a smart diet. The trouble was that with Angelica still in his thoughts, every mouthful tasted like tissue paper.
This wasn’t the reason why he spluttered it across the bench on the gym terrace where he always ate his lunch. It was the sight of her husband, the shaven-headed ape he had spotted at the villa, now striding with a purpose towards him. Joaquín had seen the pickup approach the junction and then pull in, but didn’t recognise the driver until he’d stepped out and slammed the vehicle door shut behind him.
‘Mary, Mother of God!’ His chair scraped backwards as he scrambled to his feet. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding!’ he said, as the brute approached. ‘Can we discuss this?’
Titus Savage stopped before his table. He looked a little baffled at the greeting, but extended his hand nonetheless.
‘You’re the man responsible for helping my wife get into shape,’ he said, having introduced himself. ‘I was hoping you could do the same for me.’
Brushing strands of cress from his vest, Joaquín summoned as much calm into his composure as he could, before inviting the man to take a seat.
‘How is Angelica?’ he asked, and hid his hands under the table as they had started to tremble.
‘I would’ve thought you’d know that better than me,’ said Titus, which caused the young fitness trainer’s expression to freeze. ‘She trained with you on a daily basis until recently, right?’
‘Every day,’ said Joaquín, with some confidence in his voice this time. For it struck him that Angelica must have withheld the reason why their working relationship had come to an end. Otherwise her husband wouldn’t be sitting pleasantly across from him at the table but reforming his face with his fists. ‘She’s a dedicated woman,’ he added for good measure.
For a moment, Titus appeared not to be listening. Instead, he was studying Joaquín with an unsettling intensity.
‘Have we met?’ he asked the young gym instructor. ‘I swear I’ve seen you before.’
Joaquín’s eyes widened. Even his mouth looked set to do the same thing. He had yet to cast aside the memory of that moment when this man first levelled his gaze at him. Back then, on the loop road outside the Savage villa, it had woken him up to the fact that he’d been flirting with a very dangerous fantasy. Making a play for someone else’s wife, as he had quickly come to realise, was forbidden in the Ten Commandments for a very good reason. He only had to look at Titus again, right here in front of him, to see that the guy wa
s capable of striking back with great vengeance and furious anger. It hadn’t stopped his feelings for Angelica, but from this moment on staying out of her life had become a basic survival strategy for the terrified young man.
‘We may have passed each other on the street,’ Joaquín offered eventually. ‘When you take out the inlet, Jupiter is not such a big town.’
Titus nodded in agreement, his lower lip pushed up.
‘So, what do you say? Can you fit me into your schedule? You’ve worked wonders with Angelica, after all.’
Just then, Joaquín would’ve paid Titus Savage to stay away, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Instead, with his heart still fluttering from the surprise, he agreed to take on the man whose wife continued to torment his waking hours.
‘We can start at the weekend if you like,’ he said weakly.
Titus frowned, in an expression of puzzlement that alarmed the Argentinian all the same.
‘Has she not told you?’ he asked.
Joaquín drew breath to respond, despite not knowing what he was talking about. By now, he had no appetite whatsoever for the remains of his salad. Not when he felt this sick to his stomach.
‘Are you busy?’ enquired Joaquín, in what was frankly a whisper.
Titus leaned forward, resting on one elbow.
‘The café?’ he said, as if to jog his memory. ‘It wasn’t my idea, of course. Our vegan lodger sold it to us, and Angelica agrees that there’s a market. You’re welcome to join us for the opening,’ he went on, gesturing at the young man’s chicken Caesar salad. ‘Maybe some of the customers will look at you and realise that what they’re missing from their food is the protein, iron and zinc that only meat can offer, but that’s another matter. So, what do you say?’
