‘What a brilliant idea. And that’s why you’re the food technologist.’
‘Huh, I don’t think creating a new twist on pasta sauce is that exciting.’ Mina tried not to sound too ungrateful. Working in the test kitchens of a major supermarket brand was a good job, a great job… it just didn’t inspire her as much as it used to these days. Catering to the common denominator, like putting a more flavoursome béchamel sauce on top of a lasagne, could be a bit dull when she was wild to try new flavours.
‘Now, if you’re going to be my kitchen assistant, I need you to get cracking.’
Mina hummed away as she sliced and diced onions, seasoned chicken, and chopped a small mountain of chilies, like a mini whirling dervish. This was going to be a special evening and the food just one small part of it. She wanted to show Simon just how much he meant to her. He’d become an integral part of her community of friends over the last year, and she wanted to share her happiness with them as well. Good friends were everything. She glanced over at the small tissue-paper-decorated pinãta striped in pink and blue. Earlier, she’d stuffed the small pouch inside it and now she felt a little thrill of anticipation at what Simon would say when it was released.
By the time six o’clock arrived, and they’d both treated themselves to a taster of the freshly mixed margarita, virtually everything was done.
‘Just time to get our glad rags on.’ Mina surveyed the kitchen and the neat rows of everything lined up ready. She called it Blue-Peter-style cooking, with the emphasis on ‘here’s some I prepared earlier’, so that when her guests arrived she spent as little time as possible in the kitchen – which was a challenge when you were serving really fresh, zesty street food. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, and she did a little more prep as she waited for Hannah to finish in the bathroom before she finally dashed in at twenty-to-seven. Taking the quickest of quick showers, she dragged a comb through her blonde bob, swiped a quick slick of pink lipstick over her lips, and brushed on a lightning layer of black mascara to darken her ridiculously long, pale lashes, which could have rivalled a llama. Done. She blew a kiss at her reflection in the mirror, fluttered her llama lashes, and darted back into her bedroom to pull on her new, bright fuschia-pink dress and nipped into the kitchen to put on an apron. She’d been caught out by food splatters before and this dress deserved to shine.
When the doorbell rang at seven, she was in full hostess mode. As the room filled, she was in her element, dishing out bottles of Corona stuffed with the obligatory slice of lime, or glasses of the sort of margaritas that provided a mule-like kick.
‘Blimey, Mina,’ said George, one of her old university friends. ‘That’s going to put hairs on my chest. And I’m not sure about the glitter, I’ll be twinkling at work on Monday. But killer of an idea.’
‘Don’t be a boring old stick,’ said his partner, who was also inconveniently called George, and in the six months they’d been together had become G. ‘I love the glitter and that is a seriously good cocktail.’ He blinked his eyes rapidly as the alcohol hit his throat. ‘Fire water.’
‘Oh, is it too strong?’ Mina paused in the act of handing over a glass to her best friend Belinda, who’d just arrived, flashing a smile at Simon just behind her.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Belinda, a kissing her on both cheeks and taking the glass for a sensible sip. ‘Yum. And the glitter is…’ She studied her glass. ‘Is it OK to eat, or rather, drink?’
‘Yes. It’s edible. As if I’d use something that wasn’t.’ Mina stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Belinda had been her friend since school days and her sensible nature had often put a break on Mina’s more reckless ideas in the past, but she was a grown-up now for goodness’ sake. Didn’t tonight prove this?
‘Of course not,’ said Belinda dryly, but Mina was already swinging towards Simon.
‘Hi, darling.’ She wished her hands weren’t full and she could give him a proper hug. ‘You’ve made good time.’
‘Yes, I finished work… a bit earlier. I gave Belinda a lift.’
‘That was kind.’ Her eyes sparkled at him. Belinda lived the other side of town and didn’t drive. He was such a kind man. Safe and steady too. Just what she needed. ‘Want a margarita? Or would you prefer a beer?’
‘Just water. I’m driving later.’
‘Oh, babe, aren’t you going to stay?’ She kissed him again on the cheek, with a mischievous grin, hoping to remind him of what he might miss. ‘These margaritas are to die for.’
‘I bet they are, but not with football practice in the morning. You don’t want me disturbing you after a heavy night.’ He surveyed the table. ‘Looks like you’ve gone the usual mile. This looks amazing. You’re so talented in the kitchen.’
She raised her eyebrows in mock reproof as if to remind him that wasn’t the only place.
‘Well, it is a special night,’ she murmured.
His brows drew together and she shook her head. ‘Simon. What are you like? You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’ she accused him jokingly. ‘Honestly. Hopeless. Men.’ She included Belinda in her teasing exasperation. ‘It’s our anniversary.’
Simon looked mildly horrified, but then he would. He didn’t like getting things wrong. That driving perfectionism was one of the things she’d fallen for. She might live her life at ninety miles an hour all the time, trying to cram as much in as she could, but she still liked everything to be just so. Hence the themed evening, which had come together perfectly. Hannah was handing around plates of nachos, made with good stringy cheese and home-made spicy salsa, and from the satisfied munching they were going down well.
Leaving the room buzzing with conversation she went back into the kitchen and began to ferry out the food. Once the plates were all arranged on the table, in a haphazard jigsaw to make everything fit, she invited everyone to come and shoehorn themselves into the seats around the fully extended table, which spanned the whole width of the room.
‘This looks amazing, Mina,’ cried Patsy, a friend she’d made on a fish-filleting course a couple of months back, who worked in a local delicatessen. ‘I have to get the recipes from you.’
‘Don’t you guys ever get fed up with being around food all the time?’ asked Patsy’s boyfriend, James, who was a firefighter. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’ He slung an arm around Patsy, who nudged him in the ribs with a laugh.
As she unloaded the plates, making sure everyone had something within reach, Mina basked in the exclamations of delight and interest while she explained what everything was, and invited them to tuck in. The fairy lights, the glow of the candles, and the main lights dimmed along with the low-level chatter created a wonderful, and to Mina, a deeply satisfying atmosphere in the room.
The drink flowed, the conversation rose and fell, punctuated by shouts of laughter, and Mina relaxed into her chair next to Simon, soothed by the happy, smiling faces around her. This was what life was about. Friends, lovers, and good company.
Once everyone had demolished the churros and the tablecloth was spattered with tiny drops of chocolate, she brought out the piñata and the wooden stick that had been provided with it. Everyone roared with laughter at its dainty size.
‘I know, I know, but its only for one person. One very special person.’ She looked at Simon and handed him the stick. ‘Today is our first anniversary.’
