“Ah, Peter, pleasure to meet you.”
David Davenport-Smith extended his hand. Peter extended his own hand and David grasped it in a vice-like grip, clearly intended to make some kind of point, although David seemed perfectly friendly.
“Great to finally meet you, Mr. Davenport-Smith.” said Peter nervously.
“Please, call me David.” said David.
David was a somewhat portly man but rather tough-looking. The type of man who might have commanded a tank battalion in a war, Peter thought. Shaggy black eyebrows shot through with white surmounted a square-jawed resolute face, which was topped with a thatch of thick hair, of similar colouration to his eyebrows.
“This is my lovely wife, Julia.” he said, and Mrs. Davenport-Smith stepped forward.
“Lovely to meet you, Peter.” she said.
She was dressed in a blue dress and wore a string of pearls around her neck. Her slightly bouffant blonde hair was perhaps no longer fashionable, but suited her well as a member of the aristocracy well into her forties.
After the introductions had been completed, Julia invited the couple to come through to the dining room.
“Don’t be nervous.” whispered Diana as they traversed the long hallway.
“I can’t help it.” said Peter.
“This is our son, Michael.” said David, gesturing towards a man who sat calm and unmoving at the table. “He’s non-verbal, but perfectly friendly.”
“H-hello.” Peter stuttered.
Michael made no response.
There was an awkward pause, during which David regarded his son thoughtfully while Julia smiled at her daughter and her fiancé, then David said, clapping his hands together hard enough to make Peter jump, “Well, do take a seat. Sebastian will serve an aperitif very shortly. I believe Martha’s almost ready with the starters but there’s time for a little drink first. Cleanse the palate and so forth.”
Peter sat down at the side of the long mahogany dining table in the chair indicated by David, next to Michael, and Diana went to sit opposite him on the other side. David sat at the head of the table, and Julia at the other end.
But then, the two ends of the table were identical, Peter thought. It was only David’s outsize presence at one end that made it feel like the head.
“Peter,” said Julia warmly, “Diana tells me you’re in finance.”
“Yes, we trade various financial instruments.” said Peter.
“And is that something that has always interested you?” said Julia.
“Oh, no.” said Peter. “A friend got me into it, after uni.”
“Oh, wonderful.” said Julia. “It’s so important to have the right connections. Which university did you attend?”
“Exeter.” said Peter.
“Exeter?” said David, in a tone of voice that suggested he couldn’t quite believe his ears.
“Yes,” said Peter, “it was close to where we lived back then and it has a good reputation.”
“Does it really?” said David. “How marvellous.”
“Dad,” said Diana, “it’s a very respectable university.”
“Absolutely.” said David, making a fist and lightly punching the air in front of him, in a gesture that suggested he was completely onboard with the idea. “A fine university. And what did you study there, Peter?”
“Politics, philosophy and economics.” said Peter.
“First class with honours?”
“Second class.” said Peter.
“David!” said Julia. “This isn’t the time to start interrogating our guest. There’ll be plenty of time for that later on. You two need to get to know each other.”
“Yes, quite.” said David.
“You’re a scientist, I understand, David?” said Peter.
“You understand correctly.” said David.
A man appeared carrying a bottle of wine.
“Ah, here we are.” said David. “What’ve you got for us, Sebastian?”
“Today I’ve selected a Château Margaux 1982, Mr. Davenport.” said Sebastian.
“Superb.” said David. “Are you an aficionado of the ’82 vintage, Peter? There are some who find it challenging.”
“Oh,” said Peter, “I’m fine with any kind of wine, really.”
“Any kind?” said David, in a tone of incredulity. “Surely not the ’85 Château Margaux?”
“He’s probably never had Château Margaux, David.” said Julia.
“Well why didn’t he bloody say so then?” said David, sharply.
“David!” said Julia sternly.
“Forgive me.” said David. “I’m something of a gourmand when it comes to wine. I must remember that not everyone shares my aesthetic sensibilities and training.”
Sebastian poured a small amount of wine into Peter’s glass and waited expectantly. Peter sipped the wine, his hand shaking slightly, and said, “Yes, it’s lovely.”
Sebastian proceeded to fill each of the glasses with a surprisingly small quantity of wine.
“Father’s unused to company.” said Diana brightly. “You spend much too much time alone with your experiments, don’t you father?”
“Not alone.” said David. “I have Michael.”
Peter noticed that Sebastian hadn’t filled Michael’s glass.
“He’s not drinking?” he asked.
“Michael doesn’t drink.” said Julia, in the same sort of tone that Peter imagined she might have used if she had told him that Michael had diabetes.
“Michael has Linmeyer Syndrome.” said Diana. “He used to talk when he was little, but he gradually lost the ability. Didn’t he, Mother?”
She looked at Julia.
“Yes.” said Julia. “David tried to help him but the intervention only made him worse, unfortunately.”
“Mistakes were made.” said David. “I was so naive and impetuous in those days.”
Michael made a short strange honking sound, but otherwise continued to stare blankly at the wall.
For several minutes they chatted about Michael, as though he wasn’t there, then a woman arrived, pushing a trolley.
“Ah, the appetisers.” said David, rubbing his hands together.
Martha carefully laid a small plate in front of each of them. Peter stared down at his, with a growing sense of alarm.
The plate contained what appeared to be small flat pieces of raw meat, in a colourless jelly.
“Thank you, Martha.” said Julia. “Looks scrumptious.”
“Mmm, delicious.” said Diana.
“I assume you’re a fan of the meats, Peter?” said David.
“I-I beg your pardon?” said Peter.
“The meats!” said David. “I assume you’re a fan of the meats? Brain, liver, kidney and so on. I’ve often said to Julia, you can tell everything about a man by how he approaches the meats. As soon as I saw you, I said to myself, he may not have a proper lineage or education, but there’s a man who appreciates meats. And by golly, if a man appreciates meats, he’s man enough to marry my daughter, in my book. Taste it and tell me what you think. I’d value your opinion greatly.”
The entire family were staring at him expectantly, except Michael who seemed to be admiring the edge of a painting on the wall.
He took a fork and pushed it into the clear gelatinous substance.
Diana laid a hand gently on his arm.
“Wrong fork, Petey.” she whispered.
He put the fork down and took the other, smaller fork, and repeated the process.
The sliver of meat, surrounded by jelly, smelt like something that had gone slightly off. The odour was perhaps not of rotting meat, but more like some sort of cheese. It was oozing a darkish bloody fluid.
He closed his eyes, put it in his mouth and began to chew it.
“Delicious.” he said.
“There we are!” said David in delight. “I knew you’d enjoy it. I grew it myself.”
Peter almost choked, then hastily swallowed, washing it down with a sip of wine.
“You … grew it yourself?” he said.
“Yes, in my lab.” said David. “Lab-grown meat, Peter! That’s the future. The future of meat.”
“Amazing.” said Peter.
David and Julia began to eat their own starters. Then he noticed that Julia had something quite different to the meaty jelly. She was eating what appeared to be a selection of vegetables in, perhaps, vinaigrette.
Michael was ignoring his.
Peter forced himself to put more of the nauseating meat jelly in his mouth. If this was what it would take to ingratiate himself with the family, then so be it.
“Technically it’s a tumour.” said David.
Again Peter almost choked, but was saved by the wine.
“Oh really?” he said, when he had swallowed another mouthful.
“Yes,” said David, “you see, tumour cells aren’t like ordinary cells. A tumour of the right kind can carry on growing forever. I have several more pounds of the stuff downstairs.”
“I’m going to save myself for the first course.” said Diana, pushing her plate away.
“Women never properly appreciate the fine things in life.” said David, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Not like us men, Peter! All men of any value are secretly aesthetes. Well, aside from Michael, of course.”
Peter turned slightly and found Michael staring at him at close quarters.
“Dear Michael.” said Julia pleasantly. “He’s fascinated by people eating. Always has been.”
As Peter again stuck his fork into the jelly, Michael watched intently, moving his head to carefully follow the trajectory of the food from the plate and into Peter’s mouth, where he seemed mesmerised by the action of Peter’s jaws, chewing the repulsively soft flesh.
Michael’s breath was foetid and sickly.
“What do you think of Heidegger’s assertion that existential interpretation can demand an existential analytic?” said David suddenly.
Peter spluttered.
“I haven’t read much Heidegger.” he said.
“But you studied philosophy?”
“Alongside economics and politics.”
“Which philosophers did you study, if Heidegger wasn’t deemed worthy of your attention?”
“Father, he didn’t design the course himself.” said Diana, in gentle reproach.
“Kant, Nietzsche, Plato …” said Peter.
“Well, what do you think of Kant’s opinion that we can have a priori knowledge of synthetic judgments?”
“David, stop interrogating him!” said Julia.
“We mainly studied Kant’s moral philosophy.” said Peter.
“I’m so glad you and Diana found each other.” said Julia quickly, before David could ask any further questions. “She’s had such bad luck with men, haven’t you, Poppet?”
“Mother, honestly!” Diana protested.
Peter jumped as Michael began gently pawing at his face.
“Stop that, Michael!” shouted David. “You must forgive him, he has no manners.”
Michael made a strange braying sound reminiscent of a donkey, and looked down at his uneaten food, chastened.
“The last one had to be carted away in a loony van.” said Julia, smiling. “Such a dreadful business. Mental illness can be so devastating. One moment he was fine—wasn’t he, Poppet—and the next absolutely stark raving mad. Did they ever find out what caused it?”
“They don’t know.” said Diana, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “They thought perhaps he’d had some kind of terrible shock, but I don’t know what that could have been.”
“Not much use asking him, either.” said David. “Poor fellow couldn’t speak properly anymore. Nothing but gibberish.”
“Then there was that one before.” said Julia. “I liked him. What happened to him?”
“They said it was a brain aneurysm.” said Diana.
“That’s it!” said Julia. “Brain aneurysm. Awful business.”
“Is he all right now?” asked Peter, shocked.
“Dead as a doornail.” said David. “I wouldn’t call that all right, would you?”
“No.” said Peter.
“Frankly, he deserved it.” said David. “After what he did to you, Diana, if he hadn’t had a brain aneurysm I would have made him regret being alive. I’m only sorry I didn’t find out earlier.”
David was gradually working himself up, rapidly climbing towards a crescendo.
“By Jove, I would have tracked him down wherever he went in Britain. I would have used my contacts to the fullest. And then …. well, he would have begged for death!”
David thumped the table with his fist, his chin compressed into dimples.
“Can we please talk about something else?” said Diana, staring down at her food.
“David and I enjoyed a lovely holiday last summer.” said Julia brightly. “Didn’t we, David? A little place in Italy. By the sea. What was it called, David? D— D—something.”
“Duino.” said David.
“Yes, that’s it!” said Julia. “Duino. Near Venice and Trieste.”
“Ludwig Boltzmann killed himself there.” said David. “The physicist. Hung himself while on holiday with his wife and children.”
“Lovely castle.” said Julia desperately. “By the sea. Did I say that already?”
“Didn’t you visit Venice while you were there?” Diana asked.
“Yes!” said Julia. “Twice. I showed you the pictures, don’t you remember? It was wonderful, wasn’t it David?”
“Lovely place.” said David grudgingly, clearly still seething.
Julia’s attempt to change the subject succeeded nevertheless, and for a while they talked about Italy and holidays.
Peter developed a kind of method with the starter, placing lumps of jellied flesh in his mouth and swallowing them whole one by one, pretending to chew for the sake of appearances.
He had scarcely finished the plate and was locked in combat with nausea when the first course turned up.
“Here we are!” said David exuberantly. “This’ll be the real test of you, Peter. Now we’ll see if you’re really fit to be part of the family or not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, David.” said Julia.
“What is it?” Peter asked nervously, his heart sinking as Martha laid a plate laden with repellant entities in front of him.
“Sheep’s brain with warmed honey fungus.” said David.
“Unusual.” said Peter.
If only his phone would ring, he thought, so that he could pretend an emergency had arisen. But there was no escape from the horror.
Sebastian swept in and began replacing the old small wine glasses with new larger ones, which he proceeded to fill with a liquid the colour of urine.
“Fermented goat urine.” said David. “A tradition among the Mbungwe people of eastern Uganda, among whom I was privileged to spend a wonderful year as a young man. Traditionally used to toast all new beginnings, and I see this as a new beginning, Peter. In fact, Julia and I have been talking, and now that we’ve had a chance to finally meet you properly, we’d like to propose that you and Diana move in with us.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” said Diana.
“We’re very impressed with you, Peter.” said Julia.
“You can help me with my experiments, Peter.” said David. “And Diana. I’m afraid Michael has deteriorated a little since you moved out. Julia and I were thinking perhaps you could look after him a bit. Try to get him back on track.”
“I’d love to.” said Diana earnestly. “Oh, I’m so happy. I would never have moved out if it hadn’t been for that silly job, but now that’s ended, wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.”
“You’ve lost your job?” asked Peter faintly, in a state of shock.
“Yes. Didn’t I tell you? They made up some silly story about me, but I don’t care. I didn’t even like it there.”
“To new beginnings!” said David, raising his glass.
“New beginnings!” chorused Julia and Diana. Even Michael raised his glass and made a strange rasping grunting sound.
Peter reluctantly follow suit, although his mind was by now working overtime. He and Diana would have to have an in-depth discussion. Perhaps he could make her move to Australia with him. Or America. Somewhere far away. Yes, there was no point creating a fuss now. Everything would have to be sorted out later on.
The fermented urine tasted strongly alcoholic, which at least was a bonus.
“Tuck in, everybody!” said David.
Michael began to eat his food directly from the plate, like an animal, making snorting sounds.
Peter lifted a quantity of the gelatinous yellow fatty substance on his fork, then closed his eyes and placed it in his mouth. The flavour, fortunately, wasn’t strong. It tasted like a meaty jelly.
“David gets a special deal from a local farmer, don’t you, David?” said Julia.
“Yes, these sheep brains are infected with scrapie. It’s a degenerative brain disease. Poor things don’t last long once they’ve got the staggers.”
Peter spluttered and almost spat the food out of his mouth.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t infect humans.” said David. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be eating it.”
He laughed and looked at Julia and Diana, as though sharing a private joke.
“I buy a lot of my experimental material off the same fellow.”
“It’s quite safe.” said Diana, reaching across the table and laying her hand on Peter’s.
Michael began laughing strangely to himself, although at times it seemed his laughter was closer to crying.
Peter forced himself to swallow the infected sheep brain.
At that moment there was a faint but terrifying scream, coming from somewhere in the direction of the rear of the house.
“What was that?” said Peter, alarmed.
“What was what, darling?” said Diana.
“I heard a scream.”
“Probably a fox.”
“Bloody foxes!” shouted David. “I’d like to wring the necks of every last one of them.”
“It wasn’t a fox.” said Peter. “It sounded human. I heard someone screaming.”
“Don’t be silly.” said Diana.
“It was a fox, Peter, for God’s sake.” said David, with unnecessary emphasis.
“When are you two getting married?” asked Julia, smiling brightly, with moist eyes.
“We were thinking about September.” said Diana.
“In three months.” said David. “Bit of a honeymoon somewhere nice, then you could move straight in.”
“Well, I mean, we’ll have to discuss it.” said Peter, summoning a vestige of backbone.
“What’s to discuss?” said David.
“They’ll need to talk it over privately.” said Julia. “And even if you don’t move in, we’ll see you all the time.” she said to Diana and Peter. “This will be the first of many wonderful family gatherings. And soon, perhaps we’ll hear the sound of little feet, pitter-pattering around.”
There was another unearthly scream.
Peter was about to say something but David jumped in.
“Oh, that’s what you were talking about.” he said. “That’s a fox, Peter. There are many foxes in these parts. Always yowling. God, how I hate the furry ginger blighters. No compassion, you know. One of them got into my chicken coup last year, bit the heads off every single chicken. I’d been working on some of those chickens for years.”
“What exactly is it you do, David?” said Peter.
“Plenty of time to go into that later on.” said David, putting a fork laden with brain and fungus in his mouth.
“I think, when two people find each other,” said Julia, “and they know they’re right for each other, and they want to stay together forever, that’s just a wonderful thing. I’m so happy I found David.”
“I had terrible trouble with women before I met Julia.” said David. “I remember there was this one useless harlot, a woman I met while I was doing my post-graduate work at Edinburgh. Whenever I took her to eat at a nice restaurant, I never knew whether she was going to storm out or not. Could never rely on actually finishing a meal with her. Always getting upset by the slightest thing. That’s one thing I absolutely can’t stand. Unreliability. I’ve always hated unreliability in a person. Always have, always will.”
“That’s not even the full story.” said Julia, making amused eyes at the couple. “Tell them what happened, David.”
Peter jumped as Michael pressed himself against him, leaning his head on his shoulder.
“Aw.” said Diana. “He likes you. So sweet.”
A string of saliva mixed with sheep brain dribbled onto Peter’s shirt.
“What you have to understand Peter,” said David, “is that most women are absolutely crackers. Completely barmy. I was so lucky to meet Julia, and you’re extremely fortunate to have met Diana, but you know that of course. What was it Nietzsche said? Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one solution—it is called pregnancy. You see, if a woman doesn’t get pregnant quickly enough, she starts coming apart at the seams.”
“I want to make a baby as soon as possible.” said Diana, gazing fondly at Peter. “As soon as we’re married.”
“That’s the right attitude.” said David. “That’s my daughter, right there. I’ve trained her well.”
“With a little help from me.” said Julia, laughing.
“The problem with that nasty little minx,” said David, “was I didn’t make her pregnant quickly enough. She started losing the plot. Getting all broody. Of course I tried to help her but there’s only so much a man can do.”
Michael pushed his head closer to Peter’s, moaning contentedly.
“She accused you of kidnapping, didn’t she, David?” said Julia.
“Yes, she did, silly mare. Went to the police and said I’d held her hostage for a week, at my flat above the butcher’s. What nonsense. The facts of the matter are, she went absolutely bonkers, started saying she wanted to leave me, go and find herself or whatever”—he waved his hand dismissively—“and I did my best to help her get her mind right. And how did she repay me? Went to the bloody police. I almost ended up in court. Father had to pull some strings to clear everything up.
“See, that’s what they do, Peter, these women. They accuse you of things. But you know about that, don’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Peter, surprised.
“I’ve looked into you.” said David. “You’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you? Don’t worry, I know how things are. I know what these women are like. I know all too well. None of us here will sit in judgement upon you, believe me.”
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” said Peter.
“That business with the restraining order.” said David. “‘Course, we didn’t have such things in my day, and all the better for it.”
“Yes, what happened there, Peter?” said Julia. “Do tell. I love a good story. You’ve no need to hold back with us. We understand completely.”
“Completely.” said David.
Michael pawed gently at Peter’s face, cooing softly. Peter gently took his wrist and moved his hand away.
“Come on, spill the beans.” said Diana.
“Oh … well, it was nothing really.” said Peter. “It all got blown up into a whole thing. She misinterpreted my intentions.”
“Exactly.” said David, tapping a finger in the air towards Peter. “That’s what they always do, these women.”
“She tried to say I was stalking her and I’d threatened her.” said Peter, straightening his back and looking Diana directly in the eye. “She absolutely made it all up. I would never do anything like that. She got obsessed with me.”
Julia laughed, her laughter rising in pitch, as though enjoying a delightfully funny joke.
“Tried to say you gave her a beating, didn’t she?” said David.
“Well …” began Peter.
“What is it they used to say?” roared David. “A dog, a woman and a walnut tree, the more you beat them, the better they’ll be.”
“Oh David, you’re so awful.” said Julia indulgently.
Michael pawed at Peter’s face again, and again Peter took his wrist and moved his hand away. Michael stared at him uncertainly for a few moments, then abruptly went back to his food, burying his face in his plate, sucking up the brain and fungus with loud liquid noises.
“Wasn’t there another one you found out about, father?” said Diana.
“Why, yes, there was.” said David. “There was that awful cow who accused you of setting fire to her house because she wanted to leave you.”
“You need never have secrets from my family, Peter.” said Diana, reaching out across the table and taking his hand again. “My father finds out everything anyway.”
“It was really the other way around.” said Peter. “I wanted to leave her. She couldn’t accept it.”
“So often the way.” said David. “Nothing but lies, these harlots.”
“Well, we’ve met you, Peter,” said Julia, “and I think we can all very well see that you’re a kind and sincere man. We’re all on your side. You’re nothing like that other awful boy who latched onto our daughter, the one who developed the terrible brain problem. He was only after Diana’s money, you know. So sad.”
“Nothing like him at all.” said David.
“You’re so lucky you found him, Poppet.” Julia said to Diana. “He’s a real keeper.”
“We’re all looking forward very much to you becoming part of the family.” said David.
“Very much.” said Julia.
“You know,” said David, “I read about your case and you’re extremely lucky. That stupid girl nearly put you in prison. Imagine that! The things they get up to, these dreadful women. An innocent man, almost imprisoned on the flimsy basis of nothing but lies. The filthy lies of a worthless slut!”
Suddenly Michael, who had returned to Peter’s shoulder, made a retching sound and spewed chewed sheep brain over Peter’s shirt.
“Oh, Michael!” said Julia in distress.
She rose to her feet and hurriedly began wiping at Peter’s shirt and neck with a napkin.
“Michael, how many times have I told you,” roared David, “you do not vomit on guests! Go to your room!”
“It’s OK, it’s fine, really.” said Peter.
“It is not fine, it’s anything but fine.” said David. “Over and over again, our meals ruined by that cretin!”
“David!” said Julia sharply.
Michael got up and slunk towards the door, moaning pitifully.
“Really it’s not a problem.” said Peter.
Michael opened the door and a man ran in through it, screaming. He was perhaps thirty years of age and he was dressed in a hospital gown. Attached to his head was an electronic device, small lights flashing on it, a trickle of blood running down from his hair where the device appeared to be attached, and down the side of his face.
He ran at Peter and flung his arms around him.
“Help me!” he screamed. “He’s experimenting on me! Please help me! My brain—he’s done something to my brain!”
Michael, still at the door, began groaning loadly and scratching compulsively at his hair.
Martha and Sebastian ran in, Martha brandishing a syringe, and together they grabbed hold of the man, pulled him off Peter and dragged him back towards the door.
“Don’t let them take me!” shouted the man. “Please!”
“You’re going back to the room of pain!” said Sebastian gruffly.
The man began to scream unhingedly at the top of his voice.
Peter suddenly bolted for the door at the other end of the room.
“Peter!” shouted David. “Come back! I can explain! I can explain everything!”
They watched through the window as Peter jumped in his car—a small red convertible—and drove off down the driveway, tires screeching, shooting through the open gates at forty miles an hour. Michael walked over to stand at the window in front of them.
Martha and Sebastian let the man go and they too stood watching as Peter’s car rounded the corner and vanished.
“Job done, I think.” said Michael.
The man in the hospital gown began to laugh.
“Honestly, Uncle Dave, the things I do for you.” he said.
Diana burst into laughter, and Julia and David joined in.
“The look on his face when you told him he was eating tumours.” said Michael.
“Michael, you were brilliant.” said Julia. “I really don’t know how you kept a straight face.”
“I had to pinch myself to stop myself laughing.” said David.
Diana sprawled backwards in her chair, helpless with laughter.
“I don’t think he’ll bother you any more, that’s for sure.” said Julia.
“I should think not!” said David, holding his sides. “The thing about the infected sheep’s brains! Honestly that was positively inspired, Diana! And the fermented goat urine! Oh, my.”
Diana gradually stopped laughing.
“A year I’ve been engaged to that psycho.” she said soberly.
“We all make mistakes.” said David.
Later that day, Peter went to the airport carrying two large suitcases, and boarded a plane for Morocco. He hasn’t been seen since.
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