nose and all at once he had a vivid glimpse of what he was letting himself in for. No meat. No chicken, no pork, no
bacon, no ham, no beefburgers, no sausages. It was going to be really hard. He shut his eyes briefly. He was going to need every gram of willpower he possessed.
‘I think I’ll just have some bread and cheese, then,’ Gil said.
Mum started to get up, but Dad put a hand on her arm.
‘I think you’ll just go and get it yourself, then,’ he said to Gil.
As Gil came back to the table with bread and butter and cheese he was aware of Dad watching him intently.
‘You know, Gil, if you’re going down this route, you might want to consider doing it properly,’ Dad said through a mouthful of meat.
‘What do you mean, properly ?’
‘You shouldn’t be eating cheese either,’ said Dad. ‘Do you know how they make cheese? They mash up dead calves’ stomachs and use it to break down the
milk.’
‘Matt, please,’ said Mum, putting down her fork. ‘Not over lunch.’
‘I’m just telling him the facts,’ said Dad. ‘That butter you’ve got there – it’s a direct consequence of killing animals for their meat. Cows start to
produce milk only when they have calves. The female calves are allowed to grow up to have more babies, but the male calves end up on the dinner table as beef. Milk is just a useful by-product of
the meat industry. So you see, Gil, if you’re not going to eat meat, the only logical choice is to become a vegan and not eat anything at all that comes from an animal.’
Gil swallowed a lump of cheese with an effort. Jude would know how to argue back , he thought. Jude would be able to smash Dad’s stupid facts to a pulp and wipe that self-satisfied
grin off his face. He was still considering how to reply when, to his complete surprise, Mum stepped in.
‘Don’t give him such a hard time,’ she said. ‘Let him make up his own mind. He needs to think these things through for himself.’
Dad looked as surprised as Gil felt.
‘I’m helping Gil to think things through, that’s all,’ he said.
‘No, you’re not. You just want to win the argument. Look, he’s allowed to have principles, Matt. After all, we did. We stood up for what we believed in. I was a vegetarian for
years. Ten years, at least. Just – let Gil have a bit of space. Even if you don’t agree with him.’
There it was – a tiny crack in the wall. Gil couldn’t believe it. Very gently, like a butterfly stamping, Mum was putting her foot down. She was disagreeing with Dad.
‘I never knew you were a vegetarian,’ Gil said. ‘Why did you give up?’
‘Well,’ Mum said. ‘I suppose there was a point in my life where it no longer seemed terribly important.’
Dad suddenly looked up at Mum. On his face was another of those expressions that Gil knew he wasn’t meant to notice, let alone understand. Mum just concentrated on her dinner, and a
silence settled over them.
Gil finished his bread and cheese first, but for once he didn’t try to get away from the table as quickly as possible. He waited until Dad had put his knife and fork neatly on his plate
and leant back in his chair, and Mum looked as if she was about to get up, and then he jumped up and started to clear the table without even being asked. He ferried plates and dishes and cutlery to
the dishwasher and passed them to Mum for stacking. Mum thanked Gil for every single plate – as if he was handing her ten pound notes, Gil thought. He was impressed at how easy it was. If he
worked at it a bit he might be able to get Mum on his side, and then Dad would be out on his own in the cold.
There was just the big meat plate left on the table.
‘Let me get that,’ said Mum.
‘No, it’s OK,’ said Gil. ‘I can do it.’
He carefully lifted the oval plate that was as big as a tray and passed it to Mum. She took it from him, smiling. And immediately – Gil saw at once what was going to happen, but he could
not stop it – her
bacon, no ham, no beefburgers, no sausages. It was going to be really hard. He shut his eyes briefly. He was going to need every gram of willpower he possessed.
‘I think I’ll just have some bread and cheese, then,’ Gil said.
Mum started to get up, but Dad put a hand on her arm.
‘I think you’ll just go and get it yourself, then,’ he said to Gil.
As Gil came back to the table with bread and butter and cheese he was aware of Dad watching him intently.
‘You know, Gil, if you’re going down this route, you might want to consider doing it properly,’ Dad said through a mouthful of meat.
‘What do you mean, properly ?’
‘You shouldn’t be eating cheese either,’ said Dad. ‘Do you know how they make cheese? They mash up dead calves’ stomachs and use it to break down the
milk.’
‘Matt, please,’ said Mum, putting down her fork. ‘Not over lunch.’
‘I’m just telling him the facts,’ said Dad. ‘That butter you’ve got there – it’s a direct consequence of killing animals for their meat. Cows start to
produce milk only when they have calves. The female calves are allowed to grow up to have more babies, but the male calves end up on the dinner table as beef. Milk is just a useful by-product of
the meat industry. So you see, Gil, if you’re not going to eat meat, the only logical choice is to become a vegan and not eat anything at all that comes from an animal.’
Gil swallowed a lump of cheese with an effort. Jude would know how to argue back , he thought. Jude would be able to smash Dad’s stupid facts to a pulp and wipe that self-satisfied
grin off his face. He was still considering how to reply when, to his complete surprise, Mum stepped in.
‘Don’t give him such a hard time,’ she said. ‘Let him make up his own mind. He needs to think these things through for himself.’
Dad looked as surprised as Gil felt.
‘I’m helping Gil to think things through, that’s all,’ he said.
‘No, you’re not. You just want to win the argument. Look, he’s allowed to have principles, Matt. After all, we did. We stood up for what we believed in. I was a vegetarian for
years. Ten years, at least. Just – let Gil have a bit of space. Even if you don’t agree with him.’
There it was – a tiny crack in the wall. Gil couldn’t believe it. Very gently, like a butterfly stamping, Mum was putting her foot down. She was disagreeing with Dad.
‘I never knew you were a vegetarian,’ Gil said. ‘Why did you give up?’
‘Well,’ Mum said. ‘I suppose there was a point in my life where it no longer seemed terribly important.’
Dad suddenly looked up at Mum. On his face was another of those expressions that Gil knew he wasn’t meant to notice, let alone understand. Mum just concentrated on her dinner, and a
silence settled over them.
Gil finished his bread and cheese first, but for once he didn’t try to get away from the table as quickly as possible. He waited until Dad had put his knife and fork neatly on his plate
and leant back in his chair, and Mum looked as if she was about to get up, and then he jumped up and started to clear the table without even being asked. He ferried plates and dishes and cutlery to
the dishwasher and passed them to Mum for stacking. Mum thanked Gil for every single plate – as if he was handing her ten pound notes, Gil thought. He was impressed at how easy it was. If he
worked at it a bit he might be able to get Mum on his side, and then Dad would be out on his own in the cold.
There was just the big meat plate left on the table.
‘Let me get that,’ said Mum.
‘No, it’s OK,’ said Gil. ‘I can do it.’
He carefully lifted the oval plate that was as big as a tray and passed it to Mum. She took it from him, smiling. And immediately – Gil saw at once what was going to happen, but he could
not stop it – her
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