Page 81 of In the Same Boat

He shrugs.

‘You’re the one who thinks I’m messing it up.’

‘How about you open the champagne,’ I suggest. ‘I’m sure even you can’t mess that up.’

Nico grabs the bottle from the chiller while I chop the tomatoes.

It’s hard to say exactly how things go so wrong so quickly. I suppose Nico is standing behind me, and I’m not expecting the cork to pop so loudly, right as I’m chopping a tomato. I almost chop my finger off, somehow quickly whipping my hand away at the last second, but as I do I jolt backwards into Nico, who falls forward, grabbing something to steady himself… instead he smacks the saucepan handle with his hand, sending sauce flying everywhere. Shit.

‘Wow,’ he says after a few seconds of silence. ‘My dad does say my failure rate in the kitchen is 100 per cent… Glad to keep the record going, I guess.’

‘I mean, there’s no salvaging this, is there?’ I say softly. ‘Because, even if we did have enough ingredients left, we definitely don’t have enough time. I feel like all we’ve really done is proven that we’re shit adults, that we need our mummy and daddy – this isn’t how we earn our freedom, is it?’

‘Hmm,’ he replies, thinking it over. ‘Reckon you can clean this up?’

‘Bloody charming,’ I blurt. ‘Technically you knocked it over.’

‘Technically you shoved me into it,’ he replies. ‘But what I mean is, if you can clear it up, destroy the evidence, then I can run out and grab us a takeaway. We can pass it off as our own cooking. They won’t know.’

‘If it’s good, they’ll know,’ I reply.

‘They’ll be so happy we’re getting along, they won’t even question it,’ he insists. ‘What do you think?’

‘Okay, fine, run out, I’ll clean this up,’ I tell him.

‘I know the perfect place,’ he says. ‘Stick the pan on the hob, whack the lid on it, and if Dad and Chrissy come in just send them outside for the champagne and tell them it’s still cooking – say I’m getting ready. I’ll sneak back with the food.’

‘This will work, right?’ I say.

‘It has to,’ he says with a smile. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Nico dashes off to do, arguably, the fun bit, while I stay here and tidy. To be fair though, his bit sounds more athletic, so rather him than me.

I scrape as much as I can into the bin and then make a start cleaning up the worktops and the floor. Then I light candles on the deck, next to the open bottle of champagne and glasses. I don’t pour them – I’ll have Hank do that.

‘Wow, something smells amazing in here,’ Mum says as she and Hank enter the room.

‘Thanks,’ I reply – it actually does smell incredible, it’s a shame we’ll never get to try it. ‘I’ve got a bit left to do, so head outside, grab some champagne. Nico is just having a shower, he’ll be out in a minute.’

‘Okay,’ Hank replies. ‘So he didn’t cause chaos in the kitchen?’ he checks.

I cackle out a laugh.

‘Of course not,’ I say – because technically it was a team effort.

I step out onto the deck with the starters because if the food is going to arrive hot, better they start eating this.

Mum looks up from where she is sitting beside Hank, both of them glowing in the golden evening light, looking like a picture from a brochure for the yacht.

‘Everything all right?’ she asks.

‘Wonderful.’

‘You look warm,’ she says.

‘Yeah, cooking in there, it’s steamy,’ I insist.

‘Are you sure it’s just from cooking?’ Hank says, wiggling his eyebrows.