Four hungry mice. One more photo.
Still Holding
Ned had carried his plate from the stove to the table twice without putting it down.
“Just there,” Sol said.
“Here?”
“A little closer to Pella.”
Pella stood on the other side of the round table, holding a plate of her own. Tess sat with a fork beside her paw, watching Sol’s phone move slowly across the scene.
They were in his home, a green suitcase with a broad handle beneath the front step and two silver catches above the kitchen. Outside, the afternoon light had begun to soften.
Inside, lunch had been ready for some time.
Sol tilted the phone.
“The bread’s behind your arm.”
Ned moved his plate.
“Now?”
“Nearly.”
One Last Picture
They had come to finish the neighbourhood list.
On Sol’s kitchen counter lay a sheet with spaces for five little pictures and the directions beneath them. Bea and Jo had sent theirs over from the workshop, where they were finishing the afternoon repairs.
Pella’s bakery had its opening times beside the picture of the old boot.
Sol’s coconut tea stall had a line about collections.
Tess had checked hers first.
Seedlings at the outside table. Deliveries there too.
The last space belonged to the suitcase.
Sol had cooked lunch, set out the cups, and brought his phone to the table.
Then he had asked everyone to wait before taking a bite.
Now Pella looked over her plate.
“What are we showing?”
“Lunch here.”
“For the list?”
“Yes. I haven’t got a picture for my place yet.”
Ned lowered his plate an inch.
“Can I put this down while we decide?”
“Oh. Yes.”
He set it beside Tess’s cup.
Pella put hers down too.
For a moment, the only sound was the small scrape of Ned pulling out his chair.
Whose Table?
Pella leaned towards the screen.
The photograph showed the bread basket, the cups, and most of the kitchen. Beyond Ned’s sleeve, the stove stood beneath its little shelf of plants.
“It looks like you’re opening another tea room,” she said.
Sol looked at the picture.
“I’ve already got one.”
“I know. Will someone reading this know?”
Tess glanced towards the counter and the waiting list.
“Mine says where customers should go.”
“This is just home,” Sol said.
“Then put that,” said Ned.
Sol rested the phone beside his cup.
He read the unfinished line beneath the suitcase’s empty picture space.
“Home. Visitors by arrangement?”
“That sounds like you,” Pella said.
“And these are invited visitors,” Tess added, looking at her plate.
Sol smiled.
“Yes. With lunch.”
He picked up the phone and showed them the last picture again.
Ned’s plate was partly hidden. Pella’s paw crossed the edge of the bread basket. The suitcase handle was visible below the open room.
“Would you mind this one being on the list?” Sol asked.
Pella shook her head. Tess leaned closer, then nodded.
Ned looked at his sleeve.
“That arm’s done enough. Let it stay.”
Sol selected the picture.
He put the phone away.
At Last
Before sitting down, Sol wrote the last line beneath his address.
Then he laid the sheet on the shelf, clear of the food.
“That’s the last entry. I’ll add the picture later.”
Ned had already picked up his fork.
Pella tore a piece from the loaf in the basket. Tess passed the butter, and Sol finally tasted what he had been telling everyone was ready.
For a while, nobody asked anyone to move.
Outside, footsteps passed along the lane. Somewhere farther off, a bicycle bell rang once.
“Perhaps that’s Bea’s customer,” Ned said.
“Perhaps,” said Sol.
Pella reached for another piece of bread.
“Will you show them the list tomorrow?”
“I’ll take it over.”
“After breakfast?”
Sol looked round the table.
“During, if they’ll let me.”
Ned pointed his fork towards the shelf.
“No holding plates.”
“No holding plates,” Sol agreed.
Later, when he checked the chosen photograph, every plate in it was still full.
At the table, Ned was using a piece of crust to find the last of his sauce.
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