The clock struck seven in the evening when an elderly woman approached the entrance of the most exclusive restaurant in London.
She wore a faded grey coat with a missing button, a plain woollen hat, and well-worn rubber boots. She looked as if she had wandered in by mistake. Inside, the atmosphere was worlds apartmen in tailored suits, women in elegant evening gowns, crystal glasses glinting under candlelight, the air rich with the scent of gourmet dishes.
The moment she stepped inside, hushed whispers spread through the dining room. Someone rolled their eyes, another stifled a laugh.
“Whats that homeless woman doing here?”
A waitress with a stiff smile approached, eyeing the elderly woman up and down before saying, “Im sorry, but were fully booked.”
Yet several tables remained empty.
The woman hesitated, ready to turn and leave, when a young waiterhis eyes kindstepped forward.
“Please, come in,” he said, pulling out a chair for her. “Theres always room for a guest.”
She faltered but gave a grateful nod. Slipping off her coat, she hung it carefully over the chair before sitting. Then something unexpected happened.
The waiter handed her the menu. A moment later, she spoke softly.
“Id like the duck breast with pomegranate reduction, wild mushroom velouté and a glass of your finest red.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Forgive me, madam, but our prices are quite steep.”
She offered a frail smile.
“I know. Ive been saving for years. Always for the children, the grandchildren. Helping, sacrificing, putting aside. But theyve long forgotten me. They dont return my calls. Some even told me not to visit unannounced.”
Her gaze dropped to the table before she continued.
“Recently, the doctors told me its cancer. Advanced. A week, maybe a month. I thought if this is the end, I deserve to feel like a person. Not a burden. A guest. Just a woman who can have one proper dinner, like in the films.”
The waiter stood silently, his eyes glassy. Then he nodded.
“Then this will be the finest meal of your life. I promise.”
When he returned, his tray held not just her order but a dessert”compliments of the chef”and a glass of the restaurants most expensive wine.
All evening, she ate slowly, savouring every bite. She listened to the piano playing softly in the corner. The other diners, at first baffled, soon stopped noticing her altogether.
