The Recipe for Happiness
The whole block watched with curiosity as new neighbours moved into the second-floor flat. The family belonged to Mr. Smith, the chief foreman at the only factory in this small English market town.
Why would they want to live in this old Victorian block? questioned retired Mrs. Nora Andrews to her friends. With their connections, Im sure they could have picked up a new-build somewhere.
Dont be so quick to judge, Mum, replied her thirty-year-old daughter, Emilyan energetic woman known for her flawless makeup. Whod want those boring, boxy new places when these old flats have such high ceilings, big rooms, a huge hallway, and even a sunlit balcony! And besides, they got a phone line straight away. Out of the nine flats here, only three have a phone at all
Well, you just want to gossip on the phone all day, Nora chided. Youre constantly bothering the neighbours. Dont get ideas about these new people; they look serious, probably far too busy for that.
Theyre not so sternactually, theyre quite young, Emily retorted, slightly hurt. They’ve got a little girl, Lucy, just nine. The parents are hardly older than memaybe just a few years.
It turned out that the new neighbours really were polite and cheerful. Sarah worked at the town library, and John had spent a decade at the local factory.
Emily always had the latest on them when she and her mother sat in the courtyard with the other ladies in the evenings.
How do you find out all this? theyd ask her. Emily, youd make a good detective.
I just pop in to use their phone, and they dont mindunlike some. This was a pointed dig at the neighbours whod often pretended not to be home when Emily knocked, knowing a quick phone call to her friend would turn into thirty minutes of chatter.
In this way, Emily befriended the newcomers and began visiting them regularly, intrigued by their warmth and practical kindness. Sometimes she arrived in her Sunday best; other times, in her dressing gown, always eager for a new reason to chat.
Once, she noticed John silently closing the door to the sitting room where he was watching the telly as soon as she entered. It happened again. Emily would smile at Sarah in the kitchen after her calls, but Sarah only nodded politely and asked her to close the door on her way out.
Sorry, Ive got floury handsI cant get to the door. Our lock clicks shut automatically; its French, you see, Sarah would say.
Oo, what are you bakingpies again? It always smells glorious in here. I wish I could bake like you, Emily replied.
Oh, just making some cheese scones for breakfast. I never have time to bake in the morning, so I do it now, Sarah would answer with a quick smile, before turning back to her mixing bowl.
Feeling rebuffed, Emily left, frustrated that Sarah didnt seem to want a closer friendship.
Sarah, I know you mean well, John said one evening, but lately, our phone is always tied up with Emily. My mates can never get through! Its getting out of hand.
Ive noticed too, Sarah agreed. She just waltzes in as if its her home and chats for ages.
That very evening, Emily arrived in a new dress, her hair freshly styled, and settled herself on the hallway stool for another long catch-up with a friend.
Emily, will you be much longer? Were expecting a call, Sarah said after ten minutes.
Emily nodded, hung up, and pulled a chocolate bar from her pocket. Look, Ive brought something sweet! Lets share a cuppa, just to get to know each other better! She set the chocolate on the kitchen table.
Oh, no, please, take it away. Lucy will see and beg for someshe cant have sweets, shes allergic. So, sorry, but we cant have a tea party. Chocolate is off limits in our home.
What? Off limits? Emily flushed. Well, if thats how you feel. I only meant to thank you from the heart! She took back the chocolate.
No need for thanks, but please just use our phone for real emergenciesringing the doctor, ambulance, or fire brigade, and thats it. Day or night, thats always fine. But otherwise, wed rather keep calls to a minimum. I hope you understand my husbands work is demanding, and Lucy needs it quiet for her homework. Sarah managed a strained smile.
Emily left in silence, misunderstanding entirely. She complained to her mother, Shes only acting out of jealousy now, Mum. She knows Im younger and prettierthats why shes cold with me. I was just trying to be friendly.
Oh, nonsense! Nora shot back. You cant force your way into another familys life. They dont need your calls, their place isnt a public hall, and youd better start thinking about your own future. Get yourself a phone and let the neighbours come to you if they need to ring someone!
Emily made one last attempt to connect with Sarahthis time arriving with a notebook to write down her famous scone recipe.
Id love to learn your recipe for cheese sconesperhaps its time I learned how to make something myself! Emily said.
Oh, youd be better off asking your mum. Our generation picked up so much from our own parents! And to be honest, I dont follow set measurements, just by feel. The dough sort of tells me what it needs, Sarah replied, smiling apologetically. And now I must dash!
Emily blushed and returned home. Of course, she knew her mother kept a battered recipe notebook in the kitchen cupboard; it was stuffed with handwritten recipes for everything from salads to shepherds pie, and especially cakes and pastries.
But Emily preferred eating to baking, and her mother had given up on baking years ago to manage her blood pressure.
Yet that evening, driven by a quiet urge, Emily flipped through the old notebook and found exactly the recipe she neededmuch to her mothers surprise.
What are you thinkingplanning to do a bit of baking? Nora asked in astonishment.
Why are you so surprised? Emily retorted, marking the page with a paperclip.
Have things improved with Tom, then? I thought youd broken up just like all your other short-lived romances.
Who said weve broken up? Emily snapped. If I wanted, hed be chasing me again tomorrow.
Then go on, settle down, get married. What was that recipe you were looking for, anywayperhaps I can help?
No need, Im just getting mentally ready, Emily muttered.
A few nights later, Nora came home to the scent of warm baking.
Well, I never! Are those cheese scones I smell? she exclaimed, amazed. You must be in lovenothing else would explain it!
Shush, will you! Emily replied, smiling. Just put the kettle on and come taste. And theyre not just any sconestheyre proper, traditional ones. With cheese. Like your old recipe.
As the kettle boiled, Emily set the table with fresh cups, the teapot, and a plate of golden scones, warm as the summer sun.
You havent lost your touch, Nora said softly. We used to bake togetherthought youd forgotten every trick. But these taste just right. Well done, darling.
Dont just say that to be kindis it really all right? Does it taste like you remember? Emily asked eagerly.
Try for yourself! You dont need my opinion. These are perfect!
Smiling, Emily remembered her father, who had always praised their baking with a simple, Thats good enough to eat. The highest compliment.
And soon enough, Emily invited Tom over for tea and scones. Their days of quarrelling seemed behind them, and even Nora was happy to see Emily busy in the kitchen, with Tom laughing and lending a hand.
When Emily announced that she and Tom had given notice at the registry office, Noras eyes filled with joyful tears at last.
Emily was changing. She slimmed down for the wedding, her cheeks glowed with health, and Tom would tease, Youre not going to stop baking these now, are you? Will you make cakes for the wedding, too?
The wedding was a small, homely affair, prepared by Emily, her mum, and her mums sister. They cooked for two days, even though there were only twenty guests, all family.
The newlyweds took the big room in their familys three-bedroom flat. Within a year, a phone was installed for every home in the building. Emily was happy; she called her friends, but kept her chats brief.
Sophie, Ive got to run, the doughs risen and Tom will be home any minute. Bye! She hurried back to the kitchen, where her dough had puffed up like a cushion. Expecting their first child soon, Emily was still bustling, baking treats for her husband and herselfthere was nothing she enjoyed more than a proper homemade cheese scone.
And Tom loved her all the more for her warmth and care.
Some say happiness is rare; but sometimes, its just letting go of envy and impatience, listening to those who care, and learning that a little kindness (and a good cheese scone) go further than any gossip or rivalry. In the end, real happiness is homemaderight there in your own kitchen and in the time you spend with those who matter.
