‘Okay, guys, after you’ve put your filling on the tortilla, roll it up like a big J. You know?’ their cooking teacher, Carmen, chuckled as she paced between the counters.

The class laughed along as she mimed smoking a joint, giving one woman a playful nudge.

‘I mean it’s not my thing but el campo fértil no descansado, tórnase estéril.’ She winked at Simi with a playful flourish.

‘Right. Cinco!’ Simi beamed before turning to Chance, nonplussed, ‘What did she say?’

‘Basically, All work and no play,’ Chance whispered.

‘Ohhh!’ Simi whispered back, ‘And what did I say?’

‘Five,’ Chance said.

‘Right.’ Simi grimaced, focusing on her tortilla as her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

‘Muy bien. Now put your lovely enchiladas in the pan! This is fantastic munchies food,’ said Carmen, with a clap of her hands.

As Simi positioned their rolled-up tortillas, she glimpsed at Chance imagining what her married name signature would look like – amazing, obviously – just like their wedding, their kids and their chocolate Labs. Everything with Chance would be amazing.

‘So, how did you and Jemima meet?’ Chance asked as he poured sauce into their pan.

Jemima – again, Simi frowned. This was the third time she’d come up in conversation and they hadn’t even got their food in the oven. They were supposed to be falling in love not picking over the potted history of Simi and Jemima’s frazzled friendship. Simi decided to smile through it. She’d answer his question then steer them back to more important matters such as how many children they were going to have.

‘Stand-up comedy class. She’s not really a performer though, obviously,’ said Simi, her tummy knotting at her meanness.

‘Maybe, but she is funny,’ said Chance.

‘You got that from seeing her for two minutes the other night?’ Simi asked.

‘No, we’ve met before.’

Simi’s expression fell.

‘I mean, I’ve seen her around. We go to the same coffee shop and, well, she seemed… funny.’

‘Yes, she’s funny,’ Simi replied.

If he was starstruck, she wished he’d just ask her to get Jemima’s autograph so they could get on with setting each other’s worlds on fire.

‘We don’t need to talk about her,’ said Chance whisking their pan into the oven.

‘No,’ said Simi as he returned to their counter.

However, Jemima was now in the conversation and Simi couldn’t help recall what she’d said about Chance at the party.

‘She did say something interesting though,’ Simi said.

Chance’s smile flickered.

‘She mentioned a woman with red hair…’

‘How did she know about…? Ah, the coffee shop we go to, I mean, our Nostromo. What I’m saying is… the woman’s name is Joy,’ he blustered.

Simi slapped on an amiable smile. It was as though Chance and Jemima had this whole history she knew nothing about. He knew how funny she was and where she bought her coffee. Jemima knew about this red-headed woman and maybe more. Simi indicated for him to continue in the vain hope he’d tell her, Don’t worry about Joy. She can be a flower girl at our wedding but his expression seemed to indicate otherwise. Simi tensed, mad at Jemima who, even in her absence, was ruining this evening.