Family at Dinner

Dinner arrived.

Mother set down the bronze tureen in the centre of the table and lifted
the iron ladle.

-Who's first for broth? she said.

None of the children stirred.

-You will eat your broth, said father, or you will leave this table
now, hungry or not, each and every one of you!

Father handed his plate to mother and she ladled the steaming lumps
onto it. Then she drizzled a moat of gravy around the rim.

Septimus was first among the children to offer his plate. Evangeline
came second. And then little Augustus proffered up his bowl, the last
of all.

Father related the details of his day at work to mother. She listened,
nodding attentively from time to time. Meanwhile, the children
conducted a whispered conversation:

-Look up my nose, said Septimus.

He tilted back his head so that Augustus and Evangeline could peer into
the darkness of his nasal cavities.

-Can you see it?

The two smaller children nodded, awestruck.

-Can I hold it? asked Evangeline.

-Well, okay, agreed Septimus, but not for long. She doesn't like the
light.

Evangeline held a cupped hand before her brother's face whilst he,
gently, massaged the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb.

There was movement. Something slow and dark extracted itself from the
boy's nostril, with a sticky sound of shifting mucus.

The black-widow spider dropped into Evangeline's hand and began to
explore her palm with its sharp, probing legs.

Little Augustus cooed in wonderment. His violet eyes expanded to twice
their usual size.

Unfortunately, the sound attracted mother's attention. She called
across to the end of the long dining-table.

-What are you three up to, down there?

Septimus tried to reclaim his pet from Evangeline's guilty outstretched
hand, but it was already too late.

-You heard your mother! boomed father.

The fronds of his walrus-like moustache wobbled and dripped with
broth.

-I've warned you before about pets at the dinner-table. You know what I
said. Now into the pot with it, this very minute!

-Please father, whined Septimus. Let me keep her, please...

The glowering patriarch fixed his son with such a dangerous stare that
Septimus felt the entreaty wither and die on his lips. He watched
helplessly as Evangeline rose and obediently tossed the spider into the
steaming toureen.

It vanished beneath the oily surface, without a sound.

-I don't care, thought Septimus, refusing to cry. I don't care what he
says or what he does to me. I'll have bigger pets one day. Much bigger.
And then we'll see what he can do...