The Mince Pie Mix-Up (12 page)

It was just after eleven when Judy crept into the house. Calvin was still up, squinting at the swathes of fabric as he stitched them together.

‘How’s it going?’ Judy flopped – exhausted and a little bit tipsy – onto an armchair.

‘It’s been brilliant.’ Judy detected a note of sarcasm in her husband’s words. ‘Best three hours of my life. I’m sober, have watched mind-numbing soaps and I’ve stabbed myself three million times with the needle.’

‘Do you need a hand?’ Judy asked, which she thought was extremely magnanimous of her.

‘No thanks.’ Calvin looked at his wife, who was quite clearly half cut. She’d probably make a worse job of the sewing than him, which was quite an achievement. ‘I’ve had enough for tonight. I’m going to bed.’

‘Good idea.’ Judy dragged herself from the chair and stumbled up the stairs. She tiptoed into the bathroom, but in her drunken state this meant she made much more noise than if she’d simply walked as normal. She washed her face and brushed her teeth while glaring at the towel she’d dumped on the floor the previous evening. She wasn’t going to pick it up.

She was
not
.

Calvin didn’t own a pair of pyjamas so Judy made do with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She missed her fleecy penguin pyjamas. They were so cosy and warm and she couldn’t wait until they fit her again.

‘So how was your evening?’ Calvin asked once they were both beneath the sheets. ‘Did I miss anything?’

Judy snuggled herself up against her husband. His new curves were strange but she was in dire need of his warmth. ‘Nothing but a bunch of Neanderthals spouting misogynistic rubbish.’

‘Hey, those Neanderthals are my mates.’

‘I know. That’s the worst bit.’ Judy snuggled closer into Calvin. ‘Why didn’t you tell me your friend’s wife had had a miscarriage?’

‘It’s not my place to go telling people, is it? Richie doesn’t like to talk about it so it hardly seems right me talking to other people about it.’

‘Have you tried talking to Richie about it?’

‘We’re blokes,’ Calvin scoffed. ‘We don’t talk about that kind of stuff.’

‘Maybe you should.’

Calvin kissed Judy on the forehead. ‘Maybe you should go to sleep. You’ve got a lot of work to do on the Benvenuti campaign tomorrow.’

‘Or maybe …’ Judy allowed her hand to roam across Calvin’s bare stomach. He refused to wear the fleecy penguin pyjamas – or any of the nightwear on offer. ‘Do you remember when we used to play pool in the Students’ Union and you used to press yourself up against me? I could feel
everything
.’

‘I know you could,’ Calvin replied. ‘That’s why I did it. But Judy …’ Calvin grabbed hold of Judy’s hand as it made its descent and held it firmly around his waist as he rolled onto his side. ‘We are not doing that. Not with our mixed up bits and pieces. That’d be way too weird.’

Under normal circumstances, Judy would have been offended at her husband’s rejection. But the man had a point.

Chapter Thirteen:
There’s a Rumour Doing the Rounds

Calvin couldn’t get used to this waking-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn thing.
Before
the crack of dawn, actually. The village was in complete darkness as he stood in his kitchen, shivering in Judy’s pink dressing gown as the heating hadn’t kicked in yet. His family slept soundly upstairs as he measured and sieved and rubbed flour and butter into every crevice on his fingers. His only company was Miller, who sat watching him from his basket, conveying how much he wanted to go out for a walk through doleful eyes.

‘In a minute, buddy. I just need to get these in the oven.’ Calvin dumped a pastry star on top of each mince pie, giving them a quick egg wash before he slipped the first lot into the oven. Miller’s ears pricked up but still Calvin worked, getting started on the next batch. Miller sighed loudly from the basket.

‘A few more minutes and then I’ll take you out.’ Calvin checked the time. He was running on schedule. As long as there were no major hiccups, he’d be fine. ‘Miller, noooooooo!’

Miller, who had vacated his basket and was now squatting in the middle of the kitchen, kept his eyes glued on Calvin’s as his body quivered, his eyes bulging as he curled a turd out on the lino. Calvin was sure the dog’s lips twitched into a grin as it plopped onto the floor. Dropping onto the lino, his hind legs pointing out in front of him, Miller used his front paws to shuffle himself across the kitchen, wiping his doggy butt on the floor.

‘Bad dog!’ Calvin was in a flap as he attempted to scrape the butter-and-flour mixture from his fingers but it was like glue. In the end he wiped his hands on a tea towel before grabbing a dog poop bag and scooping the offending lump off the floor. ‘Outside, now!’ Calvin marched the dog into the back garden, where he dumped the bag in the wheelie bin before returning to the kitchen. After giving his hands – and the kitchen floor – a thorough scrubbing (surely picking up dog shit contravened health and safety rules a million times over), he resumed his baking to the soundtrack of Miller howling outside.

‘Can’t you shut the dog up?’ Judy asked as she appeared bleary-eyed in the kitchen doorway. ‘You’ll wake the whole street.’

‘He crapped on the floor,’ Calvin explained as he arranged the pastry in the bun tins. ‘He’s out there as punishment.’

‘Has he been for a walk yet?’ Judy crossed the kitchen and opened the door. The howling ceased as Miller bounced inside, his tail now wagging joyfully.

Calvin grabbed the pot of mincemeat and spooned it into the pastry cases. ‘It’s next on my list.’

Judy tutted. ‘No wonder he had an accident. You need to take him out otherwise he’ll have no choice but to do it on the floor.’ Judy scratched behind the dog’s ears. ‘It isn’t his fault.’

‘I know that!’ Calvin grabbed the first batch of mince pies from the oven and placed them on a cooling rack. ‘I don’t need you pecking at me about it.’

Judy lifted her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, Mr Grumpy.’

‘You’d be grumpy too if you’d been up since stupid-o-clock making stupid mince pies and picking up dog mess.’ Calvin flung the pastry stars on the new batch of mince pies. ‘I have a list as long as my arm to get through this morning and that mutt has knocked me right off kilter.’

‘You don’t have to tell me about long lists and early mornings,’ Judy said. ‘This is my life, remember?’

Calvin wheeled around, splattering whisked egg on the floor from his pastry brush. Miller leapt forward to lap it up, which at least saved Calvin the job of clearing it up. ‘How can I forget? You never stop bloody reminding me.’

Judy opened her mouth to speak but closed it again when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Scott wandered into the kitchen, his hair stuck up in every direction.

‘What are you guys fighting about now?’

Judy plastered a sweet smile on her face. ‘We’re not fighting.’

‘Just discussing a few things,’ Calvin added. He finished the egg wash and shoved the tray into the oven before sprinkling the baked mince pies liberally with icing sugar.

‘Right. You.’ Calvin pointed at the dog, who cowered away in his basket. ‘Time for walkies.’ Miller’s ears pricked and he started to bounce around the kitchen once more. ‘Can you keep an eye on those mince pies? I won’t be long?’

‘Um, Judy?’ Judy watched as her husband clipped the lead onto Miller’s collar. ‘You’re still in your pyjamas.’

‘I don’t care.’ Calvin shoved his feet into a pair of Judy’s wellies. ‘I don’t have time to get dressed. I don’t have time for anything!’

Calvin had calmed down a little by the time he returned to the house. He’d cut the dog walk short, only allowing Miller to lead him to the canal before they turned around and came back, but Calvin still suspected hypothermia was about to set in. Why had he gone out in Judy’s pyjamas and dressing gown?

Releasing the dog, Calvin peeped into the kitchen and was relieved to see the second batch of mince pies cooling on the side. Dragging his shivering body up the stairs, he woke Charlie and poured her a bowl of cereal before climbing into the shower. The hot water was glorious, warming his body while washing away the stress of the morning so far.

Taking a shower took so much longer now he was Judy. Before, he could step in and out within five minutes, three if he was in a hurry. Now he had so much more hair to wash and rinse, not to mention the laborious task of shaving his armpits and legs. He’d thought shaving his face was a pain in the arse but that was nothing compared to the sheer volume of skin that had to be covered on Judy’s body. He was tempted to leave the fuzz; it was winter, after all, so with Judy’s body swathed in layers, who would know? But Judy would know. She had a sixth sense about these things, always knowing when he had – or was about to – cut corners.

Calvin had forgotten to bring a towel into the bathroom with him, but luckily there was one shoved in the corner, which he used to dry himself off with before toeing it back into the corner. Encased in Judy’s dressing gown once again, Calvin made his way into the bedroom where he pulled on a pair of Judy’s ridiculously constricting jeans and a black woolly jumper. He spent the next twenty minutes blow-drying his hair while mentally going through the list of jobs he still had to do that morning. Hopefully both Charlie and Scott would be dressed by now, which meant he only had to squeeze one more batch of mince pies out in between brushing Charlie’s hair and making up the packed lunches.

He could do this.

‘Don’t forget the make-up,’ Judy said as she popped into the bedroom to let him know she was setting off. She kissed Calvin on the top of his head. ‘You’ve got a PTA meeting tonight so I’ll do my best to get home as soon as I can.’

‘What?’ Calvin spun around on the dressing table stool. ‘Nobody said anything to me about a PTA meeting.’

‘It’s on the calendar,’ Judy told him. ‘You should check it out sometime.’

The PTA meeting was yet another thing to add to Calvin’s jam-packed to-do list but next up was Judy’s make-up. He applied it as Judy had shown him the day before and, while it wasn’t
quite
how it usually looked on his wife, Calvin thought he’d done a damn good job. It was certainly a more glamorous look than Judy usually went for, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

‘Mu-um!’ Scott yelled from his bedroom as Calvin finished applying a second coat of festive red lipstick. ‘Where’s my PE kit?’

Calvin squeezed the lipstick into the pocket of his ludicrously tight jeans. He’d found that, while most of the make-up stayed put throughout the day, lipstick wore off quite quickly and he didn’t want to ruin the look he’d worked so hard to achieve.

‘What PE kit?’ Calvin joined his son in his bedroom, which was still just as much of a pigsty as it had been last night. It didn’t appear that Scott had moved a single filthy cup.

Scott sighed dramatically. ‘The one I wear for PE. On
Tuesdays
.’

‘Where is it usually kept?’

Scott pointed at his chest of drawers. His PE kit usually appeared, clean and dry, in the top drawer but it wasn’t there.

‘And it isn’t in there?’

Scott sighed again. ‘No. I’ve looked in all the drawers. What have you done with it?’

‘Nothing.’ Calvin hadn’t touched a PE kit that he was aware of.

With a third sigh, Scott pushed past Calvin and stomped down the stairs to the kitchen, where he emitted a woeful cry. ‘
Mu-um
. You haven’t even
washed
it!’ He held the offending mud-encrusted kit between his fingers, thrusting it at Calvin as he joined him. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

Calvin checked his watch. He didn’t have nearly enough time to launder the kit. ‘I’ll have to write you a note.’

Scott’s eyes lit up. ‘To get out of PE? Nice one!’ Scott clenched his fist and brought it in towards his body with a hissed
yesss!

‘Come on, get the rest of your stuff ready.’ Calvin grabbed the dirty kit and dumped it back in the laundry basket to deal with later.

The rest of Calvin’s morning routine passed without a hitch. He baked a third batch of mince pies, brushed Charlie’s hair without scalping her and got Scott out of the door on time. It wasn’t until he and Charlie arrived at the school playground that things started to go downhill once again.

Charlie skipped ahead of Calvin as they made their way through the village to Perrin Street Primary, her backpack bouncing and her book bag swinging with the movement. Her hair was already coming loose from the bobble Calvin had attempted to secure it with, giving her an Orphan Annie look.

‘Mummy.’ Charlie stopped suddenly and swung around to face Calvin, her brown eyes wide. ‘I forgot to bring my homework.’

‘What homework?’ Calvin had caught up with Charlie and they fell into step together.

‘My phonics.’

‘Oh, that homework.’ Calvin hadn’t even heard of a phonic until the previous evening when he’d helped Charlie with her homework after tea. It all looked like a load of nonsense to him but Charlie seemed to know what she was doing and Judy had assured him that it did help with her reading. ‘Where is it?’

‘On the table.’ Charlie bit her bottom lip. ‘I spilled my Cornflakes on it this morning.’

‘Never mind.’ Calvin put his arm on his daughter’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘It’ll dry and I’ll have a word with Miss Daniels about it being late. We could say Miller ate it.’ He grinned down at Charlie, but she gave him a blank look. Tough crowd. ‘No, we won’t do that. It’ll be okay.’

‘Thanks, Mummy.’ The school gates came into view so Charlie sped off, rattling her backpack. Calvin followed but was stopped just as he stepped through the gates. Laura had evidently been waiting for him (or rather Judy) and pounced immediately.

‘I thought I should warn you.’ Laura grasped hold of Calvin’s arm and pulled him to one side, her eyes darting around the playground. ‘There’s a rumour doing the rounds. About your Calvin.’

Chapter Fourteen:
PTA (Pain in the Arse)

‘A rumour?’ Calvin asked, though he could take a wild guess at what it was about.

‘They’re saying your Calvin …’ Laura paused, giving her hands a thorough wringing. She glanced behind her before lowering her voice. ‘They’re saying your Calvin is a transvestite.’