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‘A little harder than I’m used to,’ Leila reasons. ‘The smell is good, but I could be smelling all of the ones in the room, to be fair.’
It is hilarious that she’s talking about her own.
‘And finally…’ Margarita pauses for dramatic effect. ‘Taste.’
I look at Rocco. He looks so funny in his coat, his bare chest clearly visible at the top. I widen my eyes at him, as if to say: how are we going to get away with this one?
‘Not bad,’ Tobias says.
‘Yeah, they’re okay,’ Leila adds. ‘A bit drier than I make them…’
You’re talking about your own, dummy.
‘A good effort,’ Tobias summarises.
‘An effort,’ Leila adds. ‘Of sorts.’
‘Okay, well, that’s positive,’ Margarita says. ‘Now, time for you two – Team Two – to do the same, follow the same steps.’
Perhaps if we follow through with our plan of hyping these scones up so much they couldn’t possibly lose, tasting them might not even be necessary?
‘Well, they look incredible,’ I say to get the ball rolling.
‘Maybe the best scones I’ve ever seen,’ Rocco adds.
‘And the smell,’ I continue. ‘They smell unreal, they feel perfect – you guys have seriously outdone yourselves.’
‘These are clearly better than ours,’ Rocco says. ‘Without a doubt.’
‘Finally, the taste test,’ Margarita prompts us.
‘I already know they’re the winners,’ I insist.
‘Taste them,’ Margarita says again.
I look at Rocco again. It feels like we stare at each other for an age, but it’s probably only a couple of seconds. Without a word, or even an expression, it’s like we both know what we need to do. We raise our scones, clink them together, and then take a bite. I wonder how bad it can actually be. I eat salty foods all the time.
The answer, however, is bad. Really bad. Bad from the second it touches my tongue. It sends a sensation from my tongue, into my gums, my teeth, right down into my throat. As my tonsils burn, I feel tears forming in my eyes. Rocco doesn’t fare any better. I watch him swallow hard, forcing his small bite down, then he clears his throat as delicately.
‘So good,’ he says, using minimal words – I imagine because that’s all he can get out.
‘Just… the best,’ I add. ‘So nice. Really—’
Oh, God, I just threw up in my mouth a little. I’m glad my mum bought the real Rennies in the end, I’m going to need them.
Leila in particular looks baffled. Margarita, on the other hand, narrows her eyes at us.
‘Ah, I see what’s going on here,’ she replies. ‘You guys are friends, and you don’t want to say anything bad about their scones, but I am here to push you out of your comfort zone, to help you improve your cooking skills, and to get you talking critically about the things you eat. You say they’re amazing, but I’ve been doing this for a while. I can tell from the looks on your faces that you’re not being completely honest. So, I’m sorry, Team One, but Team Two have clearly made the superior scones today.’
It takes everything I’ve got in me to suppress my smile. I know, this is awful, we didn’t deserve to win, but Leila didn’t have to be so harsh about our scones – that wereherscones anyway.
‘I just… I don’t understand,’ Leila says. ‘Pass them here, let me try one.’
I take the plate in my hands and do what I need to do. I ‘slip’ on the cream and land on the floor. It’s all over my clothes, my hands, my hair as I push it behind my ear. But most importantly, the salty scones are all over the floor, so no one else ever has to eat them again.
Rocco sits down on the floor next to me. He’s already covered in cream; he has nothing to lose.
‘So… we really are quite terrible at cooking,’ he muses through a cheeky smile.
