**Diary Entry 12th November**
It was seven in the evening when an elderly woman shuffled towards the doors of Londons most exclusive restaurant.
She wore a faded grey coat with a missing button, a simple woollen hat, and well-worn Wellington boots. She looked as though shed wandered in by mistake. Inside, the air was thick with elegancemen in tailored suits, women in evening gowns, crystal glasses catching the candlelight, the rich scent of fine cuisine.
The moment she stepped inside, hushed whispers broke out among the diners. A few rolled their eyes; someone scoffed,
*”Whats a homeless woman doing here?”*
A waitress with a strained smile approached, eyeing the woman up and down before saying,
*”Im sorry, but were fully booked.”*
Yet several tables stood empty.
She was about to turn and leave when a young waitera lad with kind eyesstepped forward.
*”Please, come this way,”* he said, pulling out a chair. *”Weve always got room for a guest.”*
The woman hesitated, then nodded gratefully. She slipped off her coat, draping it carefully over the chair, and sat down. Then, something unexpected happened.
The waiter handed her the menu. A minute later, she spoke calmly:
*”Id like the duck breast with pomegranate glaze, wild mushroom velouté and a glass of your finest claret.”*
The waiters brows lifted slightly.
*”Forgive me, madam, but our prices are rather steep.”*
She gave a faint smile.
*”I know. Ive been saving for years. Everything for the children, the grandchildrenhelping, scrimping, denying myself. But theyve forgotten me. No calls, no visits. One even told me not to drop by unannounced.”*
She paused, staring at the tablecloth. Then, quietly:
*”The doctors say its cancer. Advanced. A week, maybe a month. I thought if this is the end, I deserve one evening to feel like a person. Not a burden. Not an inconvenience. Just a woman who can sit down to a proper dinner, like in the films.”*
The young man stood silent for a moment, his eyes bright. Then he nodded.
*”Then itll be the best meal of your life. I promise.”*
When he returned, the tray held not just her order but a dessert*”compliments of the chef”*and a glass of the restaurants most expensive vintage.
All evening, she ate slowly, savouring every bite. The live piano music wrapped around her. At first, people glanced sideways, baffled. Soon, they stopped noticing her altogether.
**Lesson learnt:** You never know the battles someones fighting. A bit of kindness costs nothingbut can mean everything.
