A Random Act of Hospitality

Putting the finishing touches to her rather fabulous creation, Meena stepped back to enjoy the view. The cake was truly scrumptious to look at and had taken her the best part of the day to create. The three coloured sponge, in layers like a Neopolitan, blended perfectly with the filling, her own take on Nutella chocolate spread but without the commercial fuckery. On top, a darker chocolate lay in swirls and loops, drizzling artfully down the sides of the cake. Topping it off were tiny satsuma slices, and if you haven't tried the heady combination of satsuma and dark chocolate, you don't know what you're missing.

Pleased with her work, Meena stepped out onto the verandah, inhaling the scent of jasmine, always potent at this time of night, as the cockatiels squawked goodnight and flew home to their roosts. She leaned over the balustrade just as the porch light flickered on next door. Going back inside, she slipped her feet into her sandals, took a colourful shawl from the armchair and put it around her slender shoulders and, picking up the cake on its stand, very carefully made her way back onto the verandah and down the rickety stairs.

Harriet's door was open, although the screen was closed, keeping the bitey things out. Meena called out. "Hello. Harriet. It's just me, Meena." She waited, shuffling from side to side, keeping an eye on the beautiful cake. She called out again, but there was no answer. Pushing the screen door open with her hip, knowing the catch had been broken for years, Meena wandered in. The kitchen was pristine. Even at 85, Harriet was houseproud, still doing everything for herself and everyone else in the neighbourhood. Popping the cake onto the centre of the dining room table, Meena walked through to the living room. Harriet sat on the worn but clean sofa, her old dog, Boots, at her feet. She was looking at a photograph album, tears rolling down her creased cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Harriet. To disturb your privacy, I mean. I just bought a cake over for your birthday and thought we could share some."

Harriet looked up, not bothering to wipe away her tears. She patted the sofa, indicating to Meena that she should sit with her. Sliding the album over so that it sat half on her lap, half on Meena's, she went back to the beginning. Photos of four children, playing in a large garden, popping bubbles, climbing trees, carefree images of a youth well spent. Harriet, in her nurse's uniform, on her first day on the job, looking so very proud. Harriet and Mimi, the love of her life, who had passed the year before. Priceless memories. More tears.

Shutting the album abruptly, Harriet wiped her tears and smiled at Meena. "Let's see this cake, then, shall we?" Pushing herself upright with some effort, Harriet shooshed Meena into the dining room. Inspecting the beautiful creation, Harriet could feel tears pricking her eyelids again. Meena was also blinking rapidly, trying to stop the flow from starting. Sharing grief and joy, they sat down to eat the cake.