“I got some breakfast, you hungry?” she asked.As the smell of bacon reached my nose my stomach growled loudly.“I guess that answers that.” she laughed as I opened the door for her.“Um, thank you, come in, uh how did you know where?”“Where you lived?” she laughed again, I loved that laugh, a silvery sound with a throaty undertone that just rang with pure joy.“I asked Miss Price at the shop. She knows everything and everyone. So I asked her if she knew of a guy called Pearce who had died last year and she told me who and where.”Again that laugh, I could have stood there all day listening to it as we stood in my hall.“Shall we.” she indicated the open door to the kitchen with the bag. “Before they get cold.”Apologising I led her quickly into the kitchen and got her seated at the old table. She dug out of the bag a couple of takeaway cups of coffee and some wrapped bacon sandwiches.“Why, uh sorry, thank you for taking the trouble, how did you know I hadn’t got any food in yet?”I felt I. By now the sun was setting in a glorious display of colours. Small clouds took on a deep-red tint as the great ball dropped below the horizon. No, there was no Green Flash, but I felt happy, contented and in harmony with my unfamiliar surroundings. This intense, almost oppressive feeling of solitude could never be equalled anywhere in real time.I sat there for quite a while, smoking peacefully, taking a sip of punch now and then, till, suddenly, lovely aromas emanated from the cave. Alfred had waited on me. I lit the lamp and set the table to dine in style. The food had arrived in a tight Styrofoam parcel. The steak was thick, juicy, searingly hot and tasted wonderful, the potatoes roasted just so, the salad crisp and spiced delectably. While I washed down the last morsels with the fruity South African Shiraz, I was thinking of my wife. What if Alfred's five minutes were stretched into hours, days, even forever? What would she find, how would she react if she went downstairs now?.
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