The Mince Pie Mix-Up (20 page)

It was Wednesday morning before he turned up. Calvin bristled as the door opened and Norman shuffled inside, his eyes fixed on the ground as he made his way to an empty table. He’d made himself scarce after Enid’s warning but it seemed he couldn’t do without his daily fix of tea and toast for too long.

‘Ah, there you are, duck.’ Mrs Freeman patted the empty seat beside her. ‘I was beginning to think you’d carked it on the kitchen floor or something. I was saying to Mavis Butterworth earlier that we ought to go and knock at your house to make sure you were all right.’

‘I’ve just been busy.’ Norman caught Calvin’s eye but snatched his eyes away quickly before sitting down next to Mrs Freeman. ‘No need to send out a search party.’

‘What can I get you, Norman?’ The old man flinched as Calvin approached. He felt a flash of guilt. Had he been too harsh when he’d threatened to break his fingers? They were so gnarled and fragile they would probably break themselves.

‘Just a cup of tea and a bit of toast, please.’ Norman studied a scuff mark on the table top, finding it suddenly fascinating.

‘Would you like jam with that?’

‘No, butter will be fine,’ Norman told the scuff mark.

Enid emerged from the kitchen with a batch of festive cupcakes, freshly piped with green frosting and sprinkled with red edible glitter. ‘Norman! How lovely to see you. I thought you’d emigrated somewhere warmer.’ Enid glanced outside with a grimace. Snow had been in the air again for the past couple of days but so far there hadn’t been a flake on the ground. ‘Not that I’d blame you. In fact, I’d join you. Where shall we go?’ Enid gave a tut when she didn’t receive an answer. The air might have been thick with the threat of snow outside but it was thick with tension inside The Green Teapot. ‘Do you know what we need? A bit of Christmas music to cheer us up.’ Placing the cupcakes in the refrigerated counter, Enid switched on the radio, clapping as the sound of Wizzard wishing it could be Christmas every day filled the room. ‘Perfect! Who wants a dance?’

‘No thanks.’ Norman tore his eyes away from his new best friend (the scuff mark) and stuck his chin in the air. ‘It’s nice of you to ask but I wouldn’t want to be accused of improper behaviour.’

‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, you daft old sod.’ Mrs Freeman jumped out of her seat and pulled a reluctant Norman to his feet. Dragging him to a free space between the tables, she pulled Norman into a tight hold that even Houdini couldn’t have escaped from and jostled the man around the tea room, his bones practically rattling with the frantic movements. By the time Calvin returned with the tea and toast, Norman was too exhausted to sulk and accepted them with grace.

Judy could have wept with relief that Christmas – and the end of this mince pie mix-up wish and the B&R Marketing office – was in sight. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, the very last day of the body-switch, and she couldn’t wait to shed Calvin’s body and his life. There were bits she would miss – the camaraderie of her Friday nights with the lads mostly – but she wouldn’t miss Perry, whose praise over the Benvenuti presentation had been short-lived. He was now back to stalking up and down the office, filling the air with vitriol and spittle. Things were also still tense with Sarah. Judy had tried to smooth things over but Sarah was still mortified and any friendship between them was turning out to be as short-lived as Perry’s good mood, which was a shame.

But Judy wouldn’t dwell on the office. She had a fun evening ahead of her as Charlie would be performing in the ballet’s Christmas show tonight. After the nativity play, Judy wouldn’t have missed Charlie’s Christmas show for the world. It was a pity her evening had to start with her being stuck in traffic, but you couldn’t have everything and at least she didn’t have to listen to Perry’s booming voice as she waited in the evening rush hour traffic. No, the only voice she had to listen to was Chris Rea’s on the radio. She turned the volume up slightly. She’d always loved this song and it was so cheery against the bleak winter weather outside the car.

The past couple of weeks had been horrendous. Being on her feet all day might be hard going but at least she knew what she was doing at The Green Teapot and she had a nice boss who didn’t yell at her like a drill sergeant. She wouldn’t miss Perry or the office when she was reunited with her body. She also wouldn’t miss the soul-destroying commute home. Were they ever going to move? It seemed like Judy had been sitting in that same spot forever. She had a home to get back to. A family. She was itching to see her children, to hold Charlie tight and apologise – again – for missing her nativity, which she did at least once a day. A lump still formed in her throat every time she thought about her poor little girl, standing up on that stage and wondering where her daddy was. Judy was sure Charlie must have felt abandoned, no matter how much her daughter claimed otherwise. It was fine, apparently. Mummy had watched her and she’d recorded it. They’d already watched it three times on the TV, at both Judy and Charlie’s insistence, but Calvin had enjoyed watching it again too. It seemed Calvin had caught Charlie fever. He thought she’d been amazing as the shepherd – surely the best nativity shepherd there ever was – and couldn’t believe he’d missed out on these moments in the past. What a donkey he’d been! He’d never miss one ever again, no matter what the consequences may be. Some things in life had to take priority.

It was nice to see Calvin finally get it, but her husband’s enthusiasm only reminded Judy what she’d missed out on. She had to keep telling herself that there would be other performances that she wouldn’t miss. Next year, everything would be back to normal. She would be Judy again. She would be sitting in that front row, her heart swelling with pride when she caught sight of her daughter. And Calvin would be right there with her, his heart swelling too. If nothing else came from their stupid wish, at least there would be that.

‘Come on. What’s the hold up?’ Judy strained to see what was happening ahead of her on the road. Didn’t the jokers in front realise she had a family waiting for her? She couldn’t wait to get home and cuddle her family (including Scott, if he permitted the physical contact) before climbing into a hot bath to soak the stress of the day away. She couldn’t believe she’d ever imagined Calvin had it easy. The sense of relief that her involvement in the Benvenuti campaign was almost over was immense – and she’d only been working on it for a couple of weeks! It was no wonder Calvin needed to unwind at the pub on a Friday night and Judy made a vow, right there in that rage-inducing traffic jam, that she would never begrudge him a night out with the lads again.

Judy glared at the radio. Was Chris Rea having a laugh? Driving home for Christmas? It
would
be Christmas by the time she arrived home at this rate.

Calvin hobbled from the oven to the fridge, wincing with each step. He had painful blister upon painful blister on his feet and he swore, if he ever saw another mince pie, he would scream.
Actually scream
. He was sick of the sight of the things and he vowed he would never allow one to pass his lips ever again. That went for gingerbread men, festive-themed cupcakes and Christmas cake too. If he wasn’t eating or baking them, he was serving them to the festive-fever public.

‘Mum, what’s for tea?’

These were the first words Scott had deigned to speak since arriving home from school almost two hours earlier. And he hadn’t even had the decency to remove himself from his position slouched in front of the television and had simply yelled his query. Calvin didn’t have the energy to yell in return and his feet were too sore to hobble unnecessarily from room to room.

‘Mu-um? What’s for tea?’

Calvin ignored the question and grabbed the block of cheese from the fridge. It was a painful three steps to the worktop where the grater was waiting.

‘Mummy?’ Charlie skipped into the kitchen on unblistered feet. ‘Scott wants to know what we’re having for tea.’

Calvin could have insisted that Scott wrench himself away from whatever pap he was watching on the television but he was weary. The easiest solution was to send a message back. ‘Tuna pasta bake.’

‘Yum!’ Charlie skipped away. Calvin watched her undamaged feet with envy.

‘Mu-um! I don’t like tuna pasta bake!’

Calvin squeezed his eyes shut. That was another item to add to the list of things he had learned about his son over the past couple of weeks. He’d also learned that Scott liked to collect dirty clothes in various mounds across his bedroom floor and that he wouldn’t do his homework unless you hounded him and that his idea of washing the dishes was dipping them into lukewarm water and dumping them on the draining board with food still clinging to the sides. Calvin had not only become mum of the household, he’d become a personal maid to the boy. All thoughts of helping out more around the house had vanished now Scott was convinced his parents weren’t splitting up after all.

‘Mu-um? Can I have pizza instead?’

‘No, Scott, you can’t have pizza.’ Calvin dumped the block of cheese on the worktop. ‘I’m not running a café here. You’ll have tuna pasta bake like the rest of us. In fact, you can get in here and help
make
the tuna pasta bake.’

There was silence from the sitting room. Calvin knew Scott had heard him and was simply keeping quiet in the hope that he’d be left alone.

‘Scott! Get in here, right now!’

The boy eventually shuffled into the kitchen, hands slung into the pockets of his jeans. ‘What?’

‘Here.’ Calvin held out the cheese. ‘Grate this.’

‘Huh?’ The boy grunted. Was his mother serious?

‘Grate this.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I would appreciate the help. And if you don’t, I’ll ban the television for a week.’

‘A
week
? That’s well not fair.’ Scott was incensed with the injustice of the threatened punishment but he snatched the block of cheese anyway. ‘This is child labour, you know.’

‘I know. Now get grating otherwise it’ll be breakfast time before we get to eat.’

Judy was no longer surprised by the sight that greeted her when she stepped into the kitchen. Calvin was busy in the kitchen, preparing a delicious-smelling meal. He was now not only adept at baking mince pies; he could also cook a number of dishes that didn’t feature chips. She wasn’t even surprised when Calvin insisted she sit down immediately and poured her a glass of wine. She accepted and gulped down half of the glass at once. The journey home had been arduous and she was grateful to finally be out of the car.

‘How was the office? How’s the Benvenuti campaign coming along?’

Judy took another large gulp of wine. Once this wish was over with, she never wanted to hear the name ‘Benvenuti’ again. ‘It’s going well and we should meet the deadline, thanks to Sarah.’ Judy took another sip of wine. ‘How was your day?’

‘Terrible.’ Calvin winced. ‘The ladies from the knitting club came in and had a festive sing-along over
three pots
of tea. My ears! Are they bleeding?’ Judy chuckled as Calvin stooped for her to check. ‘I’m serious. Have another look.’

‘They’re fine.’ Judy stroked her husband’s ears, feeling a sudden jolt of tenderness that had been missing until recently. ‘And it won’t be for much longer.’

Calvin flopped onto the seat next to Judy with a sigh. ‘Why did we ever make this stupid wish, Judy?’

Judy grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘It’ll be over soon. Just one more day. We can manage that, can’t we? Not let’s eat quickly – there’s no way I’m missing Charlie’s ballet show.’

Chapter Twenty-Three:
Step into Christmas

Ha! One more day sounded doable – easy at a push – but Judy clearly hadn’t factored in that it was now the school holidays. Not only did Calvin have to work his jingle bells off at The Green Teapot, he also had to supervise Charlie at the same time and keep her entertained. Luckily Scott was at an age where he would rather poke his own eyeballs out with a sharpened candy cane than spend the day with his mother and so he’d taken himself off to Jack’s every day, giving Calvin one less thing to worry about.

‘Can I have a snowman cupcake, please?’ They’d barely made it over the threshold before Charlie was making her demands. It was a bit early for cake but Calvin was already frazzled. If it would keep her quiet while he worked, Charlie could scoff the entire contents of the refrigerated counter. ‘And a hot chocolate? With marshmallows and cream?’

Calvin settled Charlie at a table at the back of the tea room with enough sugar to last her until January. She’d brought her new colouring book and crayons to keep herself occupied but she was complaining that she was bored within five minutes. Calvin should have been prepared. It had been the same routine all week.

‘It’s Christmas Eve, Mummy. I want to build a snowman.’ Charlie pursed her little lips, which were covered in the white frosting from her cupcake.

‘There isn’t any snow.’ Calvin was wiping a nearby table down, hurrying before the usual morning rush.

‘Make it snow.’

‘I can’t,’ Calvin snapped. How did Judy cope with this? The children seemed to be off school every five minutes but he’d never given the extra burden a thought before now. He had to admit that Judy’s life was pretty gruelling. It was non-stop, whether she was working or taking care of everybody – or both at the same time. And she didn’t even get a proper break from it all.

Calvin had been a selfish git.

‘Couldn’t I have gone to work with Daddy instead?’ Charlie asked. ‘He’s way more fun these days. He reads me stories now and does all the silly voices like you used to. And Daddy gives me cuddles now.’

Calvin stopped wiping down the table to look at his daughter. ‘Your dad gave you cuddles before.’

Charlie shook her head. ‘Not really. He was always too busy. He always used to say “in a minute”, but then he’d forget.’

Calvin really had been a selfish git. But all that would change.

‘
Snow!
’ Charlie suddenly leapt out of her chair and dashed to the window, pressing her palms up against the pane. ‘Look, Mummy. Snow!’

Calvin, Enid, Norman and Mrs Freeman joined Charlie at the window, each feeling like a six-year-old as they gazed at the sky in wonder. Tiny flakes were fluttering to the ground but they soon thickened into fat flakes, falling faster and faster until the green opposite was covered in a thin white blanket.