A Bouquet for Nan

A Bouquet for Nan

‘What are you doing, nan?’
‘Making a cake, sweetheart. What have you been doing?’
‘Picking flowers,’ Molly held out a bouquet of dandelions and buttercups, ‘for you.’
Old Mrs Jones stopped beating the butter and sugar. ‘Well, thank you, Molly!’ She kissed her nose. ‘You’re a good girl.’ She sniffed the bouquet… Ah!
Now where was she? Butter, sugar… ah, eggs. She broke the eggs into a cup, one by one. She had once broken an egg open to find a chick in it. She hadn’t eaten eggs for a long time after that.
‘Could you pass the flour, please, Molly?’
‘Can I put the flowers in?’
‘Yes, of course you can. Flour, not flowers, sweetie. I’ll just mix the eggs in first, then you can stir in the rest.’
Old Mrs Jones turned the oven on - three clicks - and set the timer, click, click, click.
‘What do I do now, nan?’
‘Get the cake tin out for me and I’ll grease it, then you can pour in the mixture.’
‘Okay. Nan?’
‘Yes?’
‘The mixture doesn’t look like it does when mummy makes cakes.’
‘Doesn’t it? Never mind, dear.’ She put the cake in the oven on the middle shelf and turned towards Molly. She was glad of her help since her eyesight failed. ‘Could you get me a vase and fill it with water for me, sweetheart?’
‘What for, nan?’
‘For my flowers, silly.’
‘But nan, I put the flowers in the cake, like you said!’

An acrid smell rose from the oven as the dandelions started to burn.



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