On New Years Eve, our neighbour popped by: Do you mind if I come in for half an hour?
My wages havent come through.
Weve nothing at home, not even biscuits for the kids to have with their tea.
Im just sitting there with the boys they want to feel like its a proper celebration
Emma was at the cooker, admiring the duck with oranges shed just taken out of the oven.
The scent filled the kitchen so intensely, it made you want to close your eyes and breathe it in.
Shed spent all morning tending to the bird: pouring juice over it, monitoring the temperature, never leaving it alone.
The result was flawless.
Tom, come and take a look! she called to her husband.
Tom came out from the living room, whistled, and nodded approvingly, Em, thats restaurant quality!
Well, I couldnt let it be anything less, Emma smiled, pleased with herself.
Let me put it on the platter and decorate it it’ll be stunning.
She carefully placed the duck onto a large ceramic dish, laid orange slices around, and added sprigs of rosemary.
It looked like something off the cover of a food magazine.
The table was already groaning with food: three saladspotato, beetroot, and Greeksandwiches with smoked salmon, an assortment of fine cheeses and cured meats, and a fruit bowl piled high with grapes and kiwi.
Nearby was a tray of homemade meatballs and roasted potatoes.
Are we opening up a banqueting hall? Tom joked.
No, Emma replied calmly, I just want to celebrate New Years properly.
Weve worked hard all yearwe can afford a bit of indulgence.
Her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulder, Agreed.
We havent celebrated like this for ages.
It was true.
In recent years, theyd always cut back, saving for home improvements.
Now the renovations were done, the finances had stabilised, and they could finally splurge on a festive evening.
Emma set out the cutlery with care, fetched the crystal glasses that normally gathered dust in the cupboard.
Everything had to look beautiful, truly festive.
By ten oclock, the table was ready.
They changed clothes, sat opposite each other, and Tom poured the drinks.
So, heres to us? he raised his glass.
To us, she replied.
They clinked glasses.
Emma tasted the saladit was perfect.
Tom helped himself to duck and rolled his eyes in delight, This is gorgeous!
Em, youre a genius.
Emma felt proud.
This table, this cosy evening, the calm and the chance to simply sit togetherthese things felt like real happiness.
Promptly at eleven, the doorbell rang.
They looked at each other.
Who could be visiting that late?
Tom went to answer.
On the doorstep stood their neighbour Sarah, with her two sons.
She looked lost, her eyes red.
Tom, sorry for intruding she stammered.
Can we stay for a bit?
Im really struggling.
Whats happened? Tom asked, concerned.
Everything at once, Sarah sniffed.
No wages paid.
Been working off the books, so now, just before the holidays, Ive been left in the lurch.
Theres nothing at home, not even for the boys tea.
My friends promised to drop bybut they never did.
The boys need something of a celebration
Her sons lingered behind herthin, dressed in worn jumpers, silently waiting.
Tom felt awkward.
Sending a neighbour and her children back out into the New Years night didnt seem right.
Come in, he said.
Let me get Emma.
When Emma came from the kitchen and saw the guests, she realised instantly: their quiet evening was over.
Hello, Sarah hello, boys.
Sorry we barged in, Sarah wiped her eyes nervously.
Honestly, weve nowhere else to go.
We just need twenty minutes or so.
Emma glanced at the children.
They stood quietly, their gaze fixed on the kitchen, drawn by the smells.
Come to the table, Emma said with a heavy sigh.
The guests sat down, and things began to move quickly.
Mum, look! the elder boy exclaimed, amazed.
So much food!
Can I have some salmon? piped up the younger.
Grab a seat, Emma said, keeping her voice dry.
The boys sat down.
The older one grabbed a duck leg with his hands, Auntie Emma, is this okay? Without waiting for an answer, he took a bite.
The younger was already wolfing down smoked salmon sandwiches.
Its delicious! he announced happily.
Mum, can I have more?
Sarah didnt try to stop themshe loaded their plates herself, Eat up, boys, eat up.
At home its just pastawe need a proper meal.
The teens ate rapidly and greedily.
The older finished half the potato salad, the younger polished off all the salmon.
Then they demolished the cheese, meats, and ham.
Within moments, the platters were bare.
Emma watched, almost like she was caught in a bad dream.
Tom tried to lighten the mood: Youve got good appetites, lads!
But no one really noticed.
They were already tearing into the duck.
Large chunks disappeared, one after the other.
Is there any bread? asked the older.
Emma silently fetched some.
The boys immediately started piling up sandwiches.
Sarah herself was unembarrassedshe heaped on salads, tried the duck, took meatballs.
Sorry were like this, she said, mouth full.
But you know, the kids are hungry.
Twenty minutes later, the feast had been demolished.
The salads, the duck, the salmon, the cheeses, the meats, the fruiteverything was eaten by the uninvited guests.
Emma sat frozen, her face blank.
Shed spent two days in the kitchen, spent a fair bit of money, poured her effort and heart into what she hoped would be a quiet holiday for her and Tom.
Instead, she got something entirely different than expected.
Quarter to midnight, Sarah got up from her chair, Right, its time we headed off.
Thank you so much!
You really saved us tonight.
The boys got up too.
The younger grabbed a pastry as they left and asked, Can I take this with me?
Take it, Emma replied tiredly, not even looking at him.
The guests left, offering brief thanks.
The door closed.
Emma and Tom stood in the kitchen, staring silently at what, barely half an hour earlier, had been a festive table.
All that was left were crumbs on plates.
The salad bowls were empty, the fruit gone except for a couple of clementines in the bowl.
Did you see that? Emma asked quietly.
Yeah, I saw, Tom replied in the same way.
They ate everything in thirty minutes.
Absolutely everything I spent two days making.
Em
They didnt even thank us properly.
Not a one.
Just grabbed, chewed, and kept asking for more.
Tom hugged his wife.
She didnt cryshe simply looked at the empty plates, trying to make sense of what had happened.
When Big Ben chimed midnight, they still clinked glasses.
But the mood and the celebration were utterly ruined.
The next day, Emma cleaned up the kitchen: washed the dishes, cleared what little remained.
Or what could be called leftovers.
You know, Tom, she said, I get that people fall on hard times.
I get that the wages werent paid.
But why didnt she stop the boys?
Why not say, Thats enough, lads, its not ours?
I dont know, he shrugged.
Maybe they truly were starving.
Being hungry is one thing, Emma said calmly.
Greed is another.
They werent eatingthey were grabbing, like theyd never see food again.
Tom stayed quiet, and she continued:
And Sarah sitting there, sighing, acting hard done bywhile she kept passing plates to the boys, Eat, lads.
Did she spare a thought for us?
What would we have for tea later?
That evening, as Emma took the rubbish out to the bins, she bumped into Sarah on the stairs.
Sarah greeted her cheerfully, Emma, hi!
Happy New Year again!
Thanks so much for yesterday!
Emma looked at her neighbours satisfied face and felt something snap inside.
Hello, she replied coldly, and walked past.
Sarah watched her, surprised.
Emma took the bins out and went back home.
Did you see Sarah? Tom asked.
Yeah.
And?
I wont be speaking to her anymore.
Let her find someone else to sponge off.
A week passed.
Emma met Sarah in the lift and on the stairs a few times.
Each time, she turned away, pretending not to notice her.
Sarah tried to start conversationEmma responded with silence.
Em, ought you to let it go? Tom suggested one day.
Im not sulking, Emma said quietly.
Ive just come to realise: pity is a bad adviser.
We showed pity, let them in, and ended up with a ransacked table and a ruined celebration.
But their situation really is tough
Tom, Emma said seriously, Hard times dont mean you forget your manners.
You can ask for tea, maybe a bit of food.
But they cleaned us out.
And didnt even properly apologise.
Tom sighedarguing was pointless.
A month later, things with the neighbour hadnt improved.
Emma would offer a brief, unsmiling greeting, or pass by without a word.
Sarah complained to others that Emma had got above herself, but Emma couldnt care less.
That New Year lodged in her memory forever: an empty table, the satisfied faces of uninvited guests, and her own sense of emptiness.
And she decided, firmlynever again would she let anyone in who confuses kindness with an opportunity to help themselves.
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