“Would you like to come back for tea tomorrow?” Fiona whispered, sitting opposite me. Would I like to go back to Fiona’s for tea tomorrow? We had recently moved house and I now had the tag of ‘new girl’ at the local school. I was desperate to make friends and here was Fiona Stewart, the most popular girl in the class, inviting me back for tea. Grinning, I nodded vigorously. “Great…” she mouthed, and then in another whisper, “…oh, and Mum wants to know if you like shepherd’s pie?” Hastily I scribbled ‘Yum, it’s my FAVOURITE!’ and slid the note across the desk to her. I hadn’t written that just to make an impression either. Shepherd’s pie really is, I think, the most wonderful food in the world. After school I floated home in a dream. I had been invited back to Fiona’s house. I would be eating shepherd’s pie at Fiona’s house. Life couldn’t be more perfect.

I got home, pushed the flap of the letterbox and shouted through it “Hi Mum, I’m back”. I could see that, as usual, Mum was in the kitchen. She came towards the front door and fumbled a bit with the latch before finally pulling it open. “Hi love. Good day at school?” Bending down, she pecked me on the cheek and gave me a quick hug. Her hands were dusty white with flour and the smell of freshly baked bread clung to her clothes and wafted along the hall from the kitchen. My mum is a fantastic cook. She makes the most delicious meals, bakes the best cakes and bread, and as for her puddings? Well, there aren’t enough words to adequately describe them. Excitedly I told her about Fiona’s invitation. “…and shepherd’s pie as well!” she laughed, “It certainly sounds like a recipe for a great afternoon. Tea will be ready in a little while. Why don’t you go upstairs, change out of your uniform and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day?” I took the stairs two at a time, changed quickly and went back down to the kitchen.

“What’s for tea tonight Mum?” I asked, flopping into a chair at the kitchen table. This was our regular routine; Mum making tea whilst we chatted or I did my homework. “Stir fry vegetables and noodles.” Didn’t I say that she’s a great cook? The water was bubbling in the pan ready for Mum to drop the noodles in. I love to watch the steam rise and condense as it hits the kitchen tiles, and then try to guess which of the water droplets will win as they race down the walls.
“So tell me about the rest of your day - oh and pass me a pepper and an onion will you love?” I reached across to the vegetable rack; you know the type, three-tiered, plastic, white, not very pretty but it does the job. “Catch” I aimed a red pepper over the table and Mum caught it deftly in one hand.
“We played netball in P.E. and I scored two goals. Mrs. Smith said I could try for the netball team.”
“That’s fantastic! Now, watch this.”
I knew what was coming – Mum’s party piece. She removed the stalk from the pepper and scooped out the tiny white seeds. Starting at the top, turning it slowly and working downwards Mum carefully cut through its smooth waxy skin. Then, flourishing one hand above her head and holding the top of the pepper in the other…”Da daar!” the rest of the pepper spiralled down and bounced in mid-air. Mum grinned broadly, gathered the pepper up in her hands and then proceeded to chop it into more manageable pieces.
“Here’s the onion Mum.”
I handed her a large purple one. She grimaced, opened the cutlery drawer, took out a teaspoon and clenched it between her teeth. I stifled a giggle. No matter how quickly Mum peeled the onion’s crinkled papery outer-skin and then sliced it, the teaspoon trick never worked. The onion retaliated as soon as it was cut into and Mum’s eyes began to stream.
“I don’t know why you keep trying Mum” I laughed.
“Well…” she said stoically “…it’s either that or chewing stale bread and I know which one I’d rather do.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and placed the pepper and onion into a bowl of bean shoots and mushrooms. Kneeling, she opened a cupboard and took out the frying pan.
“So you’ve got your first invite back to a friend’s house and you’re going to try out for the netball team. Sounds as if you’re settling in really well at school.”
She moved to the cooker, turned the gas on and placed the frying pan on the hob.
“Yes. Fiona’s really nice. I can’t wait to go back to her house. She said we could make up dance routines, or sing along to her karaoke machine.”
Mum added a drop of oil to the frying pan and then tipped in the medley of vegetables. They began to sizzle and shiver in the oil.
“Pass the soy sauce love. Karaoke machine? Sounds as if you’re going to have a great time. Tea’s ready by the way.”
Mum was right, tomorrow afternoon was going to be great. I could just imagine it. Fiona and I singing karaoke whilst her mum cooked shepherd’s pie.
“Mmm, that smells wonderful Mum.” And it really did; a heady, spicy fragrance that made me realise how hungry I was.

The next day the hands on the classroom clock seemed to be on a go-slow. When they finally reached ‘end of school time’ Fiona and I raced most of the way to her house.
“Hi Mum, we’re back”, Fiona hollered.
“Hi you two. Good day at school?” Her mum, Mrs Stewart, was sitting at the kitchen table in a grey jacket and matching skirt.
“I’ve just got in from work. Why don’t you go upstairs for a while and I’ll let you know when tea is ready.”
I was half way up the stairs when her mum called after me.
“Fiona said that you like shepherd’s pie, is that right?”
I smiled and nodded.
“Great.” She sounded relieved.
As I started up the stairs I looked back towards the kitchen. Mrs Stewart had opened the fridge and was taking out a cardboard pack. From where I stood I could see that the words on the packaging read ‘Tesco’s Shepherd’s Pie – Family Size’.