CAKE

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“You make the most delicious cakes, Imelda,” said Lucy, sniffing the sweet smell of hot sponge.  “It’s going to be dreadful when you leave.  No one makes cakes like you do.”

            Imelda smiled fondly at the child she had known since infancy.  “I’m old now, Lucy.  I have to go home to myfamily.”

            Lucy pulled a cross face.  “But we’re your family,” she protested.

            Imelda pulled the ten-year-old against her large bosom and wrapped her arms around her.  “I’m going to miss you,” she said, then laughed.  “Your hair smells of cake.”

At that moment Diana Langford walked into the kitchen carrying a pale blue Hermes bag and a prettily wrapped gift.  “Darling,” she said to her daughter.  “I’m going out to lunch now, be good for Imelda.  I’ll be back late afternoon.” 

            “You look nice,” said Lucy, running her eyes over her mother’s blue Dior dress and the glittering diamond necklace that circled her neck. 

            “I see you’re baking a cake,” she said, smiling at Imelda.  Her teeth dazzled a bright white against her scarlet lips.  “We’re going to miss your cakes!”

            “I’ll bake one for you to have once I am gone,” said Imelda.

            “That would be lovely,” said Diana.  “Right, I don’t want to be late.  Imelda, would you please clean all the silver this afternoon, I have a lunch party here tomorrow and it’s looking a little dull. I’ll be wearing my purple dress, would you press it for me?”

            “Of course, Mrs Langford,” Imelda replied. 

            Diana sighed and her perfectly plucked eye brows knitted together in a frown.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

            “Why can’t she stay?” Lucy couldn’t imagine why Imelda wanted to return to Columbia when she could be in Kensington.

Imelda laughed and gamely plucked the child’s cheek.  “Qué amorosa!”

“George and Henry will miss you too,” said Diana, referring to her teenage sons.  “They’re just too cool to say so.”

Diana swept out of the kitchen, leaving her Tuberose scent to mingle with the smell of cake.  Her heels clicked across the marble hall, then she was gone.  “While the cake cools I will bring down all the silver,” said Imelda.  She noticed the child dipping her finger into the chocolate frosting. “Don’t eat it all or there’ll be nothing left,” she added sternly.

The Langfords were a very wealthy couple.  The house was big and grand and full of important works of art.  Charles Langford was a successful businessman, away travelling most of the time, but he always returned with a smart red box containing some expensive bauble to make up for his absences.  Diana filled her days shopping, lunching and attending charity meetings for worthy causes.  Imelda had looked after them for fifteen years – the idea of returning to her small house in the north of Columbia filled her with dread.  She had got used to living in luxury.

She spent the afternoon polishing and then pressed the purple dress.  The boys returned in time for tea and she watched happily as the three children devoured the cake.  Dutifully, she cleaned up after them.  She worked hard, she deserved her retirement – still, she couldn’t help but feel sad.

The day before she was due to leave she set about making two cakes, one to take to her family in Colombia, the other to give to the Langfords.  Lucy couldn’t help because she had to attend a friend’s birthday party.  When she returned she saw the cakes on the kitchen table.  They were identically iced in rich brown, yet one had a little Columbian flag stuck into it, the other the Union Jack.  Lucy’s mouth watered.  Unable to resist, she scraped her finger along the side of one and put it in her mouth, leaving a long furrow.  She heard Imelda humming in the hall and panicked, realising she had marked the Columbian cake.  Hastily, she swapped the flags. 

            Imelda entered.  “My family will enjoy a real English cake!” she said.  Then she hugged the child.  “I will miss you most of all.”

The following day the family waved her good-bye on the steps of their house.  Once she had gone Lucy moped about while her mother complained that the new maid hadn’t made her bed properly.  At teatime they sat down to eat her cake.  “It won’t be the same without her,” Lucy grumbled.

            “Have some cake, darling,” said her mother.  “It’ll make you feel better.”  She cut the first slice.  As she lifted it onto the plate, she saw, to her horror, a diamond sparkling in the sponge.  “Good God!” she exclaimed, pulling her necklace out.  As the cake fell apart so her jewellery was revealed, piece by piece, embedded in the sponge like cut glass in mud.