On New Years Eve, the neighbour popped in: “Mind if I join you for half an hour?
They havent paid me yet.
The cupboards are bare, not even a biscuit for the kids.
Im sat at home with the boys, and you know theyre desperate for a bit of celebration
Linda was standing at her stove, basking in the glory of her freshly baked duck with oranges.
The aroma was so luxurious she nearly closed her eyes just to inhale it fully.
Shed been fussing over that bird since morning, ladling on juice, checking the oven every other minute, fretting over the temperature like a Michelin chef.
The end result?
Absolute perfection.
Ollie, come take a look! she called her husband.
Ollie wandered in, gave a low whistle, and nodded approvingly: “Linda, thats restaurant quality right there!”
How else would I do it? she grinned.
Let me plate it, throw on a bit of garnish itll look a proper treat.
Carefully, Linda slid the duck onto an oversized ceramic platter, surrounded it with slices of orange, added sprigs of rosemary.
It truly belonged on the cover of BBC Good Food Magazine.
The table was already heaving: three salads potato, prawn cocktail, Greek, posh sandwiches with smoked salmon, a fancy spread of pricey cheeses and cured meats, fruit piled up in a vase grapes and kiwis.
Shed even left a tray of homemade meatballs and roast potatoes to one side.
Are we opening a banqueting hall? Ollie joked.
Nope, Linda replied calmly.
I just want to ring in the New Year the proper way.
Weve worked our socks off all year; we deserve it.
Her husband gave her shoulder a squeeze.
Agreed.
We havent celebrated like this in years.
And it was true.
Recently, theyd scrimped and saved for the house renovations.
Now, the building work was done, income steady, so they could finally indulge themselves.
Linda took her time setting out the cutlery, dusted off the crystal glasses she usually hid at the back of the cupboard.
Everything needed to look festive and fabulous.
By ten oclock, the table was ready.
They changed into something smart, sat across from each other.
Ollie poured drinks.
A toast to us! he declared.
To us! Linda echoed.
They clinked glasses.
Linda tasted the salad excellent.
Ollie served himself some duck and rolled his eyes in delight: Linda, youre an absolute magician!
She felt pleased.
That table, this cosy evening, the peace and quiet, the luxury of just being present with no rush all of it felt genuinely blissful.
Exactly at eleven, the doorbell rang.
They exchanged nervous glances.
Who would turn up so late?
Ollie opened the door.
The neighbour, Irene, stood awkwardly with her two sons.
She looked frazzled, eyes a bit red.
Sorry, Ollie, I know its late… she began, stumbling over her words.
Could we stop in for a bit?
Its really tough tonight.
Is everything alright? he asked, instantly concerned.
Its just everything at once, Irene sniffled, I didnt get paid; been working cash-in-hand, got chucked just before Christmas.
Theres nothing at home, not even tea for the kids.
Friends promised to visit never showed.
And boys they just want some fun
Her sons lingered behind her thin, wearing tired jumpers, silent.
Ollie hesitated.
Sending the neighbour and her kids away on New Years Eve seemed rather heartless.
Come in, he said, Ill get Linda.
When Linda stepped out and saw the awkward trio, she instantly knew their peaceful night was over.
Hello, Irene boys.
Linda, sorry weve barged in, the neighbour blurted, nervously dabbing her eyes.
We really have nowhere else to go.
Just twenty minutes, I promise.
Linda looked at the boys.
Quiet, eyes fixed on the kitchen, drawn in by the tempting smells.
Come to the table, Linda sighed.
The guests entered and chaos ensued.
Mum, look at all that! gasped the older boy.
So much food!
Can I try the salmon? the younger immediately reached for the fancy sandwiches.
Sit down, Linda said, a bit stiffly.
The boys sat, the older grabbed a duck leg with his bare hands: Auntie Linda, is this alright?
Without waiting for an answer, he took a giant bite.
The younger was already wolfing down smoked salmon sandwiches.
Tastes amazing! he cheered.
Mum, can I have more?
Irene didnt try to slow them down instead, she piled food onto their plates: Eat, boys, eat.
We only had pasta at home, time to have something proper.
The teenagers ate quickly and greedily.
The older demolished half the potato salad, the younger claimed the remaining salmon.
Next came the meat, cheeses and ham.
Within minutes, the platter was gone.
Linda watched the scene like it was a bizarre fever dream.
Ollie tried to lighten the mood: Blimey, lads, youve got some appetite!
But nobody heard him.
They moved onto the duck.
Big chunks vanished, piece by piece.
Got any bread? the older asked.
Linda quietly brought out a loaf.
Instantly, the boys began constructing monstrous sandwiches.
Irene wasnt shy either scooping up salads, tasting the duck, enjoying meatballs.
Sorry about all this, she mumbled through mouthfuls, but you see, the kids are starving.
Twenty minutes later, Lindas showstopper New Years spread was nearly erased.
The salads devoured, the duck dismantled, salmon, cheese, ham, fruit all gone thanks to the unexpected visitors.
Linda sat frozen, her face set.
Two days in the kitchen, not to mention the pounds spent, effort and hope for a tranquil celebration for two all for nothing.
At quarter to midnight, Irene got up: Right, we best be off.
Thank you so much!
Honestly, you saved us!
The boys gathered their coats.
The younger snatched a pastry and asked: Mind if I take this with me?
Go on, take it, Linda replied, drained, not even bothering to look.
The guests departed, leaving obligatory holiday wishes.
Door closed.
Linda and Ollie stood in the kitchen, staring at what used to be the feast.
Only crumbs on plates, empty salad bowls, fruit vanished without a trace.
Just a few lonely clementines remained in the vase.
Did you see that? Linda whispered.
I did, Ollie whispered back.
They ate everything in thirty minutes.
Everything I cooked for two days.
Linda
They didnt even properly thank us.
Not a word.
Just grabbed, chewed, asked for more.
Ollie hugged her.
Linda didnt cry she just stared at the empty plates, trying to make sense of it all.
When midnight struck, they dutifully clinked glasses.
But the party was irretrievably ruined, along with their mood.
The next day, Linda tidied up the kitchen: washed dishes, cleared the bits that remained or what could generously be called leftovers.
You know, Ollie, she said, I get that people have tough times.
I understand not getting paid.
But why didnt she stop the boys?
Why not say: Thats enough, chaps, this isnt ours?
No idea, Ollie shrugged.
Maybe they really were starving.
Starving is one thing, Linda replied coolly.
Greed is another.
They didnt eat they hoovered it up, like theyd never see food again.
Ollie said nothing, so she continued:
And Irene, sighing like shes destitute, sliding plate after plate to the boys: Eat up, lads. Did she think about us?
What wed eat afterwards?
That evening, Linda bumped into Irene in the hallway.
Irene was positively chirpy: Linda, hello!
Happy New Year again!
Thanks for yesterday you were so welcoming!
Linda eyed her contented face and something inside finally snapped.
Hello, Linda said flatly, pushing past.
Irene watched, slightly surprised.
Linda took the rubbish out and headed back.
Did you see Irene? Ollie asked.
Yep.
How was it?
Im done talking to her.
She can find new sponsors.
A week passed.
Linda ran into her neighbour in the lift and hallway several times.
Each time, she turned away, ignoring her.
Irene tried to chat met only with silence.
Linda, dont you think this is a bit much? Ollie asked one night.
Im not sulking, Linda replied, Ive just realised: pity makes bad decisions.
We felt sorry, let them in, and ended up with a ravaged table and a ruined celebration.
But their situation was really hard
Ollie, Linda looked at him seriously, hardship doesnt give you the right to lose your conscience.
You could have requested some tea, maybe a bit of food.
But they gutted everything, didnt even apologise.
Ollie sighed there was no arguing.
A month went by.
Relations with Irene didnt recover.
Linda would greet her curtly or pass by in silence.
Irene moaned to others that Linda had gone up herself, but Linda hardly cared.
That New Years Eve etched into Lindas memory forever: an empty table, satisfied faces of uninvited guests, and her own sense of emptiness.
She made a vow there and then never again let in those who mistake hospitality for a free buffet.
