Silt

They had always planned to celebrate Margot’s sixtieth birthday at the block and now they were here: their small Mazda backed up against the new wall of wattle and the gin and tonic mixed perfectly into two speckled glasses. Margot had made a cake for the occasion too. She had tried adding raspberries to the recipe but the cheaper frozen fruit had bled all through the mixture in the oven, making the cake turn the colour of wet fairy floss, maybe Margot’s first lipstick.