MOST Sunday mornings, Ivy washed her car in her driveway. And most Sunday mornings, her reclusive old neighbour, fetching his newspaper, would gesture to his car and quip, ‘You do mine too, ja?’ ‘Ha!’ she’d say, as he returned indoors. One day, however, inspired to generosity by the bluest of skies, Ivy did just that. Then she polished the old man’s sedan until it caught the sun like a mirror. Later that day, she found a warm, tea towel-wrapped package and note on her doorstep, and discovered that the man’s name was Gustav. That he was a wonderful cook was but an added bonus.