The Mince Pie Mix-Up (15 page)

‘Oh, yes.’ Enid sighed happily at the memory. ‘My mam used to hate being stuck in but us kids used to think it was wonderfully exciting.’

‘Being snowed in is no use when you’ve no one to snuggle up with.’ Norman leered at Calvin. ‘Hey, Judy. You’ll come and keep me warm if it starts to flutter, won’t you?’

Mrs Freeman tsked. ‘Leave the poor girl alone. You’re old enough to be her grandad.’

Norman puffed out his chest. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘I would. I was half-tempted to say great-grandad.’ Mrs Freeman pointed at Norman’s plate. ‘Now get that toast down your neck and you can walk with me to the library to see if they’ve got that Catherine Cookson I ordered last week.’

Calvin smiled gratefully and, leaving Norman to his toast, he headed into the back of the tea room to hang up his coat and pop an apron on. The elf apron was back, but thankfully there wasn’t a twinkly hat in sight.

‘He means no harm, you know, duck,’ Mrs Freeman whispered to Calvin on her way out.

Over in the B&R office, Judy was feeling completely out of her depth. Calvin had given her lots of tips and Sarah had been a huge help but it was all so overwhelming. Judy had been chucked in at the deep end without so much as a swimming lesson. Her days at university were nothing but the blur of another life and Calvin was right: a university course and an actual working environment were very different beasts. Judy didn’t have a clue what she was doing and it terrified her. What if she completely screwed up the presentation? Perry wasn’t the kind of boss who accepted mistakes and she feared the consequences of the wish she and Calvin had made. It was a relief when lunchtime finally arrived and she could leave for the day.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Perry was hovering by Judy’s desk, his face its usual rust colour, ready to turn puce at the slightest provocation. Perry’s speech was constantly peppered with vulgar words but Calvin’s tip of replacing them with festive words was giving her a headache so Judy was trying to filter them out completely. ‘Why are you packing up?’

‘It’s my daughter’s nativity play this afternoon so I have to leave early. I’ve booked the time off.’ Judy grabbed Calvin’s desk calendar. ‘Look, it’s on my calendar.’ She’d decided she might as well make use of it, even if there were only a couple of weeks left in the year.

Perry snatched the calendar and tossed it across the office like a frisbee. Luckily the employee it sailed towards had quick enough reflexes to duck in time. ‘I don’t care about your calendar. I care about Francesco Benvenuti, who has just been on the phone.’ Perry folded his arms across his chest and screwed up his rubbery lips. ‘
He hates the campaign
. Hates it! He said he wanted to
spit
on it, that the paper it was printed on wasn’t worth wiping his arse on.’ Judy’s filter wasn’t quite quick enough this time. ‘You’re not going anywhere. You need to fix this.’

‘But it’s Charlie’s nativity play.’ Judy’s voice came out pathetically weak.

‘And that’s more important than the Benvenuti campaign, is it?’

All weakness left Judy’s body in a puff of indignation. That man was trying to compare her daughter to a stupid project? She rose to her feet and looked Perry straight in the eye.

‘Yes. Quite frankly, it is.’ Judy’s tone was strong, determined. She was a mother lion protecting her young.

‘Then go.’

Judy did a little victory dance inside. She’d won! She wasn’t weak and pathetic. She was a mother lion who could hold her head up high.

‘But don’t expect to have a job to come back to tomorrow.’

‘What?’ The mother lion slunk away, leaving a trembling Judy behind. ‘You can’t sack me for having time off. Time off that’s been booked for weeks.’

‘Can’t I?’ Perry gave a humourless laugh. ‘Try it and see. Go on, leave your desk right now. Leave us all up shit creek.’ Judy’s filter wasn’t coping very well at the moment, but she had more important things to worry about. ‘See what happens, Neil.’

What could Judy do? She couldn’t get Calvin fired, especially at Christmas. There was no way they could live off her paltry wages alone.

What was she going to do?

Calvin arrived at the school hall in plenty of time, managing to secure a couple of seats on the front row. He’d rushed home at a rate of knots to pick up the camcorder to record the play for Judy’s parents, not wanting to be a second late as Judy had completely lost it when he’d missed the nativity play the previous year. She hadn’t even listened as he’d attempted to explain, had just gone on and on at him as though he’d missed it on purpose. Christmas was an incredibly busy time for B&R Marketing and they’d had a ton of work on, including the Rudnick campaign, which made Benvenuti look like a Year 5 class project. Perry had been threatening redundancy if things didn’t pick up so the Rudnick campaign was of upmost importance. It had been huge, pulling in an extraordinary amount of money for the company, which had kept them all employed.

None of that mattered to Judy, though. She didn’t care that he’d worked his baubles off to pay the mortgage. No, Charlie’s play was the only thing she’d cared about and she’d acted as though Calvin had missed his daughter’s opening night on Broadway rather than the Early Years’ nativity in which Charlie had played a sheep or a donkey or something else with a tail that didn’t even have any lines.

Calvin checked his watch as the hall began to fill up with parents. He’d draped his jacket over the chair next to him to save it for Judy and it was attracting disgruntled glares. Where was Judy? It was still quite early but he had expected her to be there already. He was surprised she hadn’t been the first to arrive.

Judy wasn’t at the nativity. She wasn’t even on her way. Instead, she was shut away in the disabled loo at work (she couldn’t bring herself to use the men’s), a soggy ball of tissue clasped in her hand. Every now and then she would lift the tissue to her eyes to mop up the tears she couldn’t seem to stop. She was going to miss Charlie’s nativity play. Her little girl would be up on stage, proudly delivering her one line (her very important one line) and Judy wouldn’t be there to witness it. Would Charlie notice? Would she look out into the audience and wonder where her mummy was? Of course she wouldn’t because Calvin – who to Charlie was her mummy –
would
be there. It would only be Judy missing out.

The thought brought a fresh batch of tears that the tissue didn’t stand a chance against. Judy hadn’t felt like she had any choice but to remain at the office, watching miserably as each minute ticked by. She’d hoped that Perry would shed his Grinch persona for one measly afternoon and let her go, but he’d been adamant that she should stay and work on the campaign. And he’d been extremely smug when he noted that she had.

As the time of the performance neared, Judy had been forced to accept that Perry wasn’t going to change his mind and had phoned Calvin to let him know that she wouldn’t be there.

‘You will record it, won’t you?’ A wave of grief had hit Judy full-force as she faced the reality that she really was going to miss her little girl’s nativity play. As soon as she’d hung up, Judy had fled to the loos, where she had locked herself in the cubicle to weep.

‘Calvin?’ There was a tentative knock at the door and Judy recognised the voice. It was Sarah. ‘Are you in there?’

‘Yes.’ Charlie’s nativity play would be starting right now. Judy had never missed any of her children’s performances, games or class assemblies before. She cleared her throat. It wouldn’t do for any of the team to see or hear Calvin crying. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’ Judy doubted that was true as a fresh wave of tears hit. She should be at the school right now, watching her baby shine.

‘It’s just that Perry’s looking for you,’ Sarah said. ‘He thinks you’ve sneaked off to your daughter’s play. I think it’s best if you go back to your desk.’

Judy mopped her face with the soggy tissue. ‘Can you tell him I’ll be back in a minute?’ Judy needed a minute – at least – to compose herself.

‘I’ve tried but you know what he’s like. He thinks I’m covering for you.’

Judy had little choice in the matter. She had to go back out there.

Flushing the sodden mass of tissue down the loo, she unlocked the door and, taking the girl by surprise, flung herself into Sarah’s arms, sobbing into her blouse – Calvin’s rep be damned. She may just have earned her husband the nickname ‘Gal-vin’ at work too.

Calvin was mesmerised as he watched Charlie on the stage, singing her heart out and delivering her important line loud and clear. She was a superstar. An absolute superstar. How could he have missed out on this last year? Who cared about the damn Rudnick campaign? It would have still been there the next day, waiting patiently for him. This, this right here in front of him, this was what was really important.

‘You were
amazing
.’ Calvin had just enough time to wrap his arms around his daughter and tell her how wonderful he thought she was before he had to dash off to man the refreshment table. There was already a line of thirsty parents waiting to be served so he was grateful when Laura stepped in to help him deal with the backlog.

‘Wasn’t that cute?’ Laura asked as she poured coffee into two plastic cups.

‘Cute? It was brilliant.’ Calvin added milk to the cups of tea he was preparing. ‘They were all brilliant.’

‘Abby doesn’t seem to think so.’ Laura nodded towards the stage, where Abby Frost was berating her six-year-old daughter for fluffing a couple of her lines and dropping the baby Jesus on his head. ‘Poor Tabitha.’ Laura poured a cup of orange squash and handed it to a waiting parent. ‘Calvin didn’t make it then?’

Calvin shook his head. ‘He’ll be gutted.’ Calvin could tell Judy was about to burst into tears during their earlier phone call. She would be devastated at missing the nativity play and now Calvin truly understood why.

‘Maybe he’ll try harder to get here next year,’ Laura said.

‘He will. He’ll be here.’ Calvin knew that for certain.

Chapter Seventeen:
A Bad Day

Calvin woke with a stiff neck, cold feet and a wet nose snuffling his neck.

‘Miller? What the –’ Calvin sat up in bed but, after peering around the room, realised he wasn’t in bed after all. He was squeezed onto the sofa, which explained the stiff neck, covered in the festive throw Judy insisted they drape across the back of the sofa every December, despite its being not much bigger than a postage stamp and therefore pretty useless.

Calvin had started off in his bed but been forced out of the room by the thunderous snores being emitted by his wife. She’d been snoring like a fatally injured wild beast most nights since the switch, but that night had really taken the biscuit. Calvin had feared he was about to be propelled from the bed by the vibrations caused and, while the sofa may not have been the most comfortable of places to slumber, it was at least quiet and he’d been able to catch a few zeds.

Reaching out, Calvin gave Miller’s ears a scratch and hoisted himself up. He checked the time as he had a stretch. He did a double-take. It was just after seven, which meant he was up late. Again.

‘Scott! Charlie!’ Calvin tore out of the sitting room, tripping over his own feet as he pelted for the stairs. ‘Time to get up!’

‘I’m already up.’

Calvin halted and double-backed to the kitchen, where his son was finishing a bowl of cereal.

‘Good, good.’ One down, one to go. Calvin looked up the stairs. ‘Charlie!’

‘Do you want me to walk Miller?’ Scott, having placed his empty bowl in the sink, had wandered out into the hall. Calvin eyed his son with suspicion. He’d been responsible for dog-walking duties for almost a week now and not once had Scott offered to take him out.

‘You haven’t been visited by a strange fairy, have you?’ Scott gave Calvin such a look of loathing that he was convinced Scott hadn’t body-swapped with anybody overnight. ‘No, of course you haven’t. Ignore me. I had a weird dream, that’s all. But yes! Walking Miller would be a big help. Get dressed quickly and then you can take him out.’ Calvin mounted the stairs two at a time. ‘Charlie? Are you awake?’

With Charlie eventually seated at the table with a bowl of cereal, Calvin got to work on the mince pies. There was no way he could manage three batches that morning. He’d be lucky to present Enid with one batch at this rate. It was almost eight o’clock and he hadn’t even thought about getting dressed. At least Miller was being taken care of and wouldn’t be pooping on the floor.

‘Judy? I mean Calvin?’ With mixing bowl in hand, Calvin shouted up to his wife, who had yet to emerge from upstairs. ‘You’re going to be late.’

‘I know.’ Judy appeared at the top of the stairs, chomping on her nails. ‘I don’t think I should go in.’

‘You have to.’ Calvin checked the mixture. Not quite there yet. ‘You’ve got the presentation this afternoon.’

‘That’s why I don’t think I should go in.’ Judy began to slowly descend the stairs. ‘What if I mess it up? I could lose your job. My job. Whatever. Either way, we’d be screwed.’

‘You won’t mess it up.’ Calvin took the mixing bowl into the kitchen and started to knead the mixture into a dough. ‘Just present what we’ve prepared so far.’

Judy bit her lip and looked away so Calvin wouldn’t see the flash of guilt on her face. She hadn’t told him what Perry had said the previous day. Francesco Benvenuti hated the campaign they were putting together. He’d said it made Project: Planet sound the same as every other project management tool out there and didn’t make his product shine. Now it was up to Judy to fix it and present a whole new concept in a matter of hours.

She felt sick at the thought of what was to come.

‘You’ll be fine, honestly.’ Calvin gave his wife an encouraging smile, watching her shuffle out of the kitchen before he started to roll out the dough on the counter. He heard the front door close so at least she’d made it over the threshold.

‘Hurry up with your breakfast, sweetie,’ he said to Charlie as he cut twelve pastry circles out of the rolled-out dough. ‘You need to get dressed.
I
need to get dressed.’

‘Tabitha says you go out in your pyjamas,’ Charlie said. ‘But I don’t mind. Can I go to school in my pyjamas?’