The Long Way Home by Phillip Overton

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  The phone rang as Rowena was trying to cook dinner. She cursed as she turned the heat down under a saucepan of vegetables that had just boiled over and dropped the spatula on to the floor as she reached out and picked the phone off the hook. ‘Where was Simon?’ She thought. ‘The little brat should have been home ten minutes ago.’

  “Hello?” She answered the phone.

  “Hi Rowena, its Colleen here. Are you still on for tonight?”

  “Yeah no problems Colleen, how many are coming again?”

  “Just the six of us dear. We’re each bringing a small plate for supper, you know the usual. Just some biscuits, cakes or scones, don’t go out of your way to make anything special will you?”

  ‘Oh no!’ Rowena thought as she looked at the cake she was burning in the oven. She tried to reach the oven with one hand while she stretched the telephone cord as far as it would go with the other, but it was just out of her reach.

  “We’ll be there at eight o’clock then Rowena, that should give you time to put your son to bed and have him settled.”

  “That sounds fine to me.” Rowena said, still trying to reach the knob on the oven.

  “Oh and one other thing, did you remember to buy the candles?”

  “I did.” She replied, looking at the box of 50 candles sitting on the kitchen bench.

  “Good, so I guess the ladies and I will see you at eight?”

  “Okay Colleen, I’ll see you then.” Rowena replied and hung up the phone before racing across to the oven. She flung the door open and a burnt, smell instantly hit her nostrils. She grabbed a nearby tea towel and carefully removed the cake tin. The top of the cake was black and hard.