Tigers on the Beach by Doug MacLeod

too loudly about the events of the day, which really aren’t that interesting, but Dad and I pretend they are, because we know it’s what Mum wants.
    â€˜Bananas are fourteen dollars a kilo,’ says Mum.
    â€˜Goodness. I wonder if they let you buy bananas on hire purchase?’ says Dad.
    Mum and Dad laugh. But it’s fake; not their usual chuckling.
    â€˜Reginald liked bananas,’ says Grandma.
    â€˜Yes,’ Mum nods. ‘He certainly did like a banana.’
    â€˜He often walked to the shops to buy them,’ said Xander.
    â€˜Alexander, hold your fork properly,’ says Grandma.
    â€˜He always holds his fork like that,’ I say.
    â€˜He looks like a monkey,’ Grandma says.
    â€˜3.141592653589793238,’ says Xander.
    â€˜The guests have been quiet,’ Dad says, with forced casualness. ‘Nathan and Marika haven’t had much to do lately.’
    â€˜Did you know that Nathan is in love with Marika?’ I say.
    â€˜Of course, Adam,’ says Dad. ‘Anyone can see.’
    â€˜Except Marika,’ I say.
    â€˜She wouldn’t know if her bum was on fire,’ says Dad. ‘Even if it had a fire alarm on it.’
    Dad and Mum do their artificial laugh again. Grandma just scrapes up her mince and eats slowly.
    After we finish the curried mince, Dad brings out fruitcake and puts it on the table.
    â€˜Reginald used to make fruitcake,’ says Grandma.
    â€˜I remember,’ says Mum.
    â€˜It was the most awful fruitcake in the world. So heavy you could have moored a boat to it.’ Grandma smiles sadly. ‘I miss his fruitcakes.’
    â€˜There are turnips in the cake,’ says Xander.
    â€˜What? What are you talking about?’ says Dad.
    â€˜They use fake cherries in supermarket cakes,’ says Xander. ‘And they’re made from turnips.’
    â€˜I got it from the bakery, not the supermarket,’ says Mum. ‘I’m sure they’re real cherries.’
    â€˜They aren’t,’ says Xander.
    â€˜How can you tell?’ asks Dad.
    Xander sticks his finger in the cake. Grandma pulls his hand away. ‘Alexander,’ she snaps. ‘Behave yourself!’
    Xander looks angry.
    â€˜I’ve told you before not to stick your fingers in food,’ says Dad.
    â€˜3.1415926535897932384626433832,’ says Xander.
    â€˜Would you like some fruitcake, Mum?’
    â€˜No thank you, Georgia,’ says Grandma. ‘Not now that Alexander has filled it with his germs.’
    Xander has a very small finger and it’s a very large cake. I doubt that he has contaminated the whole thing. Under his breath Xander mutters,
‘Grandpa walked to the shop.’
Fortunately, I am the only one who hears. I kick him under the table.
    â€˜Could you switch on the TV, please?’ Grandma asks.
    Dad doesn’t like it when the TV is going while we’re sitting at the dinner table, but Mum turns it on. It’s a wildlife documentary. Sir David Attenborough tells us about migrating wildebeests.
    â€˜This looks interesting,’ says Mum, as Sir David Attenborough tells us that wildebeests usually mate after the rainy season in the African grasslands.
    â€˜Reginald looked a bit like Sir David Attenborough,’ says Grandma.
    â€˜He did,’ says Mum.
    â€˜Back in the days when he had hair, of course,’ says Grandma. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep mentioning him.’
    â€˜We don’t mind,’ says Mum.
    â€˜Of course we don’t,’ says Dad.
    â€˜3.1415926535897932384626433832,’ says Xander.
    Sir David tells us that wildebeests are very good at mating, with one of the highest success rates of impregnation. We contemplate the wildebeest’s impregnation rate.
    â€˜What annoys me most about Reginald is that he didn’t leave a ghost,’ says Grandma. ‘I’d like to be haunted by Reginald. The least he could have done was leave a