The Savages

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At the table, Titus Savage spotted his son picking his teeth with one finger.

‘Manners,’ he reminded the boy quietly. ‘We’re not animals.’

As he spoke, the rest of the family continued with their dessert. Everyone seemed subdued and even exhausted, which was in complete contrast to when they sat down to eat. It was the boy, Ivan, who had been first to finish. Like any twelve-year-old with nothing left on his plate, he began to fidget and sigh to himself.

‘Can I get down now?’ he asked hopefully. ‘My computer’s waiting for me to make the next move at chess. I will beat it this time.’

His father responded by inviting him to look around.

‘When everyone is ready,’ he said. ‘This is a special occasion, after all.’

At the opposite end of the table from Titus sat an angel. At least that’s how Titus viewed his wife, Angelica. Without her, family life would fall apart. She kept the house immaculate, and her cooking today had been simply divine. Titus caught her eye as she spooned the last of the dessert into her mouth. It was a trifle she had prepared, using a home-made recipe for the jelly. Like every course of the meal they had enjoyed, the taste was unusual but compelling. For a moment, Angelica looked embarrassed. It was as if she felt she should not have been caught losing herself to the taste quite so openly. Still, Titus seemed to relish her expression. He sat back, clasped his hands across a surprisingly lean stomach given the amount of food he’d just consumed, and considered his children. While Ivan had already finished, his sister continued to take small, almost reluctant mouthfuls. Titus recognised that the family had put away a feast. Even so, he was surprised to see her looking quite so indifferent to clearing her plate.

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