Triumphantly I drain my basmati rice, take my ready-made nans out of the oven, and serve everything out onto plates. Then I sprinkle chopped fresh coriander over everything—and honestly, it looks like something out of Marie-Claire. I carry the plates through and put one in front of Suze.

“Wow!” she says. “This looks fantastic!”

“I know,” I say proudly, sitting down opposite her. “Isn’t it great?”

I watch as she takes her first forkful—then put a forkful into my mouth.

“Mmm! Delicious!” says Suze, chewing with relish. “Quite hot,” she adds after a while.

“It’s got chili powder in,” I say. “And fresh chilies. But it’s nice, though, isn’t it?”

“It’s wonderful!” says Suze. “Bex, you’re so clever! I could never make this in a million years!”

But as she’s chewing, a slightly strange expression is coming over her face. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit breathless, too. This curry is quite hot. In fact, it’s bloody hot.

Suze has put down her plate and is taking a large slug of wine. She looks up, and I see her cheeks are red.

“OK?” I say, forcing myself to smile through the pain in my mouth.

“Yeah, great!” she says, and takes a huge bite of nan. I look down at my plate and resolutely take another forkful of curry. Immediately, my nose starts to run. Suze is sniffing, too, I notice, but as I meet her eye she smiles brightly.

Oh God, this is hot. My mouth can’t stand it. My cheeks are burning, and my eyes are starting to water. How much chili powder did I put in this bloody thing? Only about one teaspoonful . . . or maybe it was two. I just kind of trusted my instincts and chucked in what looked about right. Well, so much for my instincts.

Tears start running down my face, and I give an enormous sniff.

“Are you OK?” says Suze in alarm.

“I’m fine!” I say, putting down my fork. “Just . . . you know. A bit hot.”

But actually, I’m not OK. And it’s not just the heat that’s making tears run down my face. Suddenly I feel like a complete failure. I can’t even get a quick and easy curry right. And look how much money I spent on it, with the Balti pan and the apron and all the spices . . . Oh, it’s all gone wrong, hasn’t it? I haven’t Cut Back at all. This week’s been a complete disaster.

I give a huge sob and put my plate on the floor.

“It’s horrible!” I say miserably, and tears begin to stream down my face. “Don’t eat it, Suze. It’ll poison you.”

“Bex! Don’t be silly!” says Suze. “It’s fantastic!” She looks at me, then puts her own plate on the floor. “Oh, Bex.” She shuffles across the floor, reaches up, and gives me a hug. “Don’t worry. It’s just a bit hot. But otherwise, it’s brilliant! And the nan is delicious! Honestly. Don’t get upset.”