I took my time to chop and prepare the pico, and just as I had everything prepared, the girls started to filter through from various parts of the house. Finally Steve arrived – through the front door having rang the doorbell and then knocked far too aggressively.
‘Wow, this looks great,’ Mini said, getting up close. ‘How colourful does that look?’ She pointed at the pico, then pulled out her phone and snapped a photo.
‘It’s the salsa, it’s called pico de gallo,’ I said, feeling a smattering of the joy I had felt in the supermarket returning.
‘Pico de gallo. Wow, you’re spoiling us, Regi,’ she said, looking down at her phone as she quickly altered the colours to make the pico look even brighter than it was.
‘It’s the sort of thing I learned to cook a few years ago. Up until then, I didn’t have a clue about flavours and what not. I would just cook stuff out of packets, pies and chips, that sort of thing.’ I thought back to the days when I would sit down to eat at the table alone, the seat opposite me perpetually empty.
‘Well, you’ve got the hang of it now, girl. I’m salivating, I really am.’ I looked over Mini’s shoulder as she posted the pico photo to Instagram with a hashtag. #tacos
‘Great. Well, tell the others as it’s ready.’
Everyone, including Steve, gathered around as I brought everything to the table in little separate bowls so they could help themselves.
I watched as a perfect sequence of table etiquette unfolded in front of me; dishes were passed, and quiet mouthings of appreciation evolved into enthusiastic approval; even Karen managed to mumble a few complimentary words.
‘This is literally the best non Taco Tuesday or Whatever Wednesday we have ever had,’ Mini said.
‘Good shout on the fish,’ Steve said, taking a bite of his overly stuffed taco. I had made extra knowing his appetite would cover at least two people’s.
I hadn’t really been taking much notice of Sophia, but suddenly I saw she had only a small portion on her plate. She hadn’t loaded a taco and she was just picking at the pico and moving the fish about her plate.
‘Are you okay, Soph?’ I asked quietly.
‘I don’t know, it all smells a bit funky.’ Sophia pulled a funny face.
‘I know, it’s great – I have never had fish tacos before. I just love the crunch of the tacos muddled with the softness of the fish.’ Mini grinned.
‘All right, Mini, you’re not Greg bloody Wallace,’ Karen said, taking a bite of her taco.
‘Well, I think Regi’s cooking is MasterChef standard – it’s truly delicious.’ Mini was undeterred as usual by Karen’s negativity.
Suddenly, Sophia stood up and pushed her chair back too quickly so it fell backwards. Steve was up on his feet as though he was back in the army and the enemy had just arrived. He swept Sophia’s chair back up again as though it had never happened. By this point, Sophia was on her way out of the kitchen, her hand over her mouth mumbling something about having drank too much at the weekend.
‘Oh my God, how dramatic,’ Karen said and carried on eating.
‘I didn’t see her drink that much at the weekend,’ Mini frowned.
‘I did,’ I said quickly. ‘I saw her disappear to her room with a bottle of wine when you lot went to bed.’
Karen pulled her mouth down in disgust and shook her head. ‘We’ve all done it.’
‘Well, that’ll do it, drinking right before bed,’ Mini added.
Both of them were oblivious to my lie. I had suffered the symptoms and seen it enough times to recognise the early signs of pregnancy. Now I knew which of the three house mates the pregnancy kit had belonged to. I kept my poker face. But who could be the father?
I stayed at college late for the rest of the week. Will had had a word with the cleaners for me, and so there was no repeat performance of the door being locked with all of my stuff inside. We exchanged numbers – he said to save me walking all the way across the college to reach him if I needed to again. Once I had his number in my phone, I felt a sudden urge to text him something small-talkish and flirty, but the longer I thought about it, the more it made me cringe. What I wanted to say to him would never be properly executed because I had absolutely no experience of being cool or flirting or any of those things. I hadn’t perfected those skills in my late teens or early twenties the way all other girls that age did. Whilst they were making endless mistakes, moulding themselves into the people they were to become in their later life, my life was leading up to making one of the biggest mistakes in my life, one that I could never recover from or could be rectified.
25
Now
I really began to throw myself into my work for the remainder of the week. Will had suddenly become elusive. Yet again I considered sending him a text but bottled out at the last minute. I decided to try to use the quieter time in the evenings to focus on myself. I did not need to be wondering what Will was up to today, or if he was wearing that trademark denim jacket with the hoody that made him all the more appealing, or how looking at his shiny eyes and listening to his easy voice loosened my breathing and lifted the weight from my heart.
I was, however, worried about Sophia. I knew her parents were affluent – employed staff on their countryside weekend residence kind of affluent – so I knew she would be set financially. But I was worried that she had got herself in trouble; with no mention of any male friends, her pregnancy could only have been the result of a silly one-night mistake.
I didn’t want to think
