The Mince Pie Mix-Up (3 page)

‘Does this mean I still have to go tonight?’ Calvin called after her.

‘YES!’

Chapter Three:
Two Parents A-Rowing and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

Judy and Calvin thought it was best if they didn’t communicate for a while, so the journey to Judy’s parents’ was strained as they each did their best to ignore the other. Calvin turned away from his wife as best he could while confined to the passenger seat of the car and tethered to his seat by his belt, staring out of his window while Judy put on her very best everything-is-fine-kids voice as she chatted away to them. Not that the children noticed the tension between their parents. Scott was engrossed with his phone while Charlie was chattering away non-stop about the importance of shepherds.

‘What do you think, Daddy?’

‘About what?’ Calvin dragged his gaze away from the window and looked at his daughter through the gap between the seats.

‘About shepherds.’

‘Oh.’ Calvin shifted into a more comfortable position. ‘It must be a pretty boring job, mustn’t it? And cold and wet. Who would want to be stuck out in a field all day with nothing but sheep for company? It’s a rubbish job if you ask me.’

‘Da-ad!’ Charlie’s bottom lip started to tremble and her brown eyes pooled with tears.

‘Charlie is playing a shepherd in the school nativity next week,’ Judy hissed.

Oh, candy canes. ‘I was only kidding, Charlie-Chalk.’ Calvin laughed, to show what a silly, jovial mood he was in. ‘Being a shepherd is one of the most important jobs there is. What would we do without shepherds? There’d be sheep running around everywhere, wouldn’t there?’

Charlie nodded, eyes dry again. ‘And they’d poop everywhere, wouldn’t they, Daddy?’

‘
Everywhere
. Imagine the smell.’

Charlie giggled, her father completely forgiven for his mishap.

‘You did book the time off work, didn’t you?’ Judy asked, ruining the mood. ‘It’s been on the calendar since last month.’

‘Yes, yes, of course I’ve booked the time off work.’ How could Calvin forget when Judy had been chewing his ear off about it for weeks? He turned back towards the window, spending the rest of the journey counting fairy light-framed windows and lit-up Santas along the way.

‘I’m so sorry we’re late.’ Judy hugged her mother when they arrived, trying to convey through body language alone that it was all Calvin’s fault. ‘I hope tea isn’t ruined.’

‘Of course not. No harm done.’ Susan led the family straight through to the dining room where everybody squeezed around the table. ‘I’ve made an early Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. I know it’s not the same as spending the actual day together but it’s the next best thing. I’ve even bought crackers!’

‘Mum says you and Grandpa can’t come to my nativity play.’ Charlie’s wobbly lip was back as she spoke to her grandmother.

‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ Susan stroked Charlie’s curly brown hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. ‘We’ll be away. But maybe your daddy can film it and we can all watch it together when we get back in the New Year. Would you like that?’

‘Can we have popcorn?’

‘Of course.’

‘And ice cream?’

‘Don’t push it,’ Judy said and Charlie reluctantly backed down, fearful that she’d lose the popcorn she’d already bagged if she persisted. ‘Do you need a hand with anything, Mum?’

‘No, thank you. Everything’s under control.’ Susan went through to the kitchen and when she returned she brought with her the festive smells of a good, old-fashioned festive feast. Calvin’s stomach rumbled and he temporarily forgot about the lads and the pint he’d sacrificed for family harmony. The evening’s misdemeanours seemed to be forgotten as the family ate and chatted and pulled crackers with naff jokes and even naffer prizes.

‘Have you told Grandma and Grandad about your band?’ Judy asked Scott.

The tips of Scott’s ears turned pink, glowing brightly against the yellow paper crown he was wearing. ‘We’re playing our first gig on Sunday. They’re switching on the village lights and we’re allowed to play three songs.’

‘Three songs? Wow. You’ll soon be a superstar.’ Susan smiled encouragingly at her grandson before turning to Judy. ‘They’ve left the lights until the last minute, haven’t they?’

‘They were supposed to be switched on at the beginning of December,’ Judy explained. ‘But vandals nicked the bulbs from the tree and they’ve only just been replaced.’

Susan gave a tut. ‘Is nothing safe these days? Bulbs!’

‘So what songs will you be playing?’ Scott’s grandfather asked. Bernard had been in a band himself in his youth, though it had been the church’s brass band and probably not quite in the same league as his grandson’s.

‘We’re playing a couple of Christmas songs. But, like, really cool ones. And then we’re playing a song I wrote with the drummer.’

‘Very impressive. It’s a shame your Grandma and I will miss it.’

‘At least Dad will be there this time.’ Scott couldn’t quite bring himself to forgive his father for missing his first football match for the Woodgate Juniors. Months had passed but it still stung.

‘I only missed one football match.’ Calvin had been caught up with work and he’d made sure he’d been at every one since.

‘You missed all of my basketball games.’

‘You gave up after three.’

‘And you missed my awards ceremony at school.’ Scott believed this was now his trump card for life. Whenever he wanted something, he could always bring out the awards ceremony card to get his way.

‘I had a very important meeting at work.’

‘Yeah, because everything’s more important than us.’ Scott scraped back his chair, excusing himself with the pretence of needing the loo.

‘What’s up with him?’ Calvin asked, watching as his son disappeared from the room with slumped shoulders.

‘Think about it, Calvin,’ Judy said.

Think about what? That his son had turned into a moody teenager? That was hardly his fault, was it?

Calvin sulked – in Judy’s opinion – for the remainder of the evening, sitting hunched in his seat and giving mumbled, one-syllable answers. For Calvin, he was merely sitting and observing his family, responding when he had something to say rather than wittering on. What was the point of speaking anyway when his words were twisted and made into something else? No, he would keep his gob shut and that way he couldn’t be blamed for anything else.

‘Are you going to sulk all night then?’ Judy slipped into the driver’s seat of the car, smiled fixed in place as she waved to her parents on the doorstep, belying the fact that she was livid.

‘I haven’t been sulking.’ Calvin was already belted into his seat, arms thumped across his chest and his gaze fixed on the window. The house across from Susan and Bernard’s was decked out like the Blackpool illuminations. It must have bumped their electricity bill up to at least double the normal price. It was a ludicrous waste of time and money in Calvin’s opinion.

‘You’re still sulking now.’ Judy sighed. There was no point in having this row. Not when they would be stuck inside the car with the children for the next twenty minutes. ‘Are you buckled in, Charlie? Scott, can you check for me?’

‘Just a sec.’ Scott was already engrossed with his DS. His sister’s safety could wait.

‘Scott! Now, please.’ Judy snatched her own seatbelt and dragged it across her body. Why was it always
her
who had to drive on occasions such as these? Calvin claimed he didn’t feel like driving after enduring rush hour traffic twice a day already, but what about Judy? She baked and served all day but that didn’t stop her from getting food on the table each evening or picking up after three people who were more than capable of picking up after themselves. Judy suspected it had more to do with the cans of lager Calvin had downed and the whiskey he and Bernard had enjoyed on the sly.

‘All right, all right. No need to get all snappy.’ Scott, still clutching his DS, leaned across to check his sister’s seatbelt.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ Judy shouldn’t take her bad mood out on the children. ‘Are we all ready?’

Judy’s mood didn’t improve during the drive home, especially when Calvin parked himself in front of the television as soon as they arrived, leaving it up to Judy to get Charlie ready for bed. It was always the same. If it involved the children, it was automatically Judy’s responsibility.

‘Thanks for tonight. I really appreciate it.’ Judy had been seething all evening but waited until both Charlie and Scott were in bed before venting her frustration.

‘What do you mean?’ Calvin was instantly on edge. Was she truly thankful? Because her tone suggested otherwise.

‘I mean you being a complete baby and sulking. Why do you have to be so rude whenever we visit my parents?’ Judy could understand if her parents were anything like Calvin’s, who couldn’t give a toss about any of them and would rather spend time with their daughter and her family than Calvin’s. But Judy’s parents were nothing but pleasant towards Calvin. They saw him as their son.

‘I need your support, Calvin, especially with Christmas approaching. I’m rushed off my feet all day at work and then when I come home I have to do everything here.’

Calvin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Do you think I have it easy? Do you think I enjoy working my arse off to support this family?’

Judy threw her arms up in the air. Why did she even bother? ‘I work too, you know.’ Judy stormed from the room as hot tears threatened to spill and make her look like a fool. She wasn’t upset. She was angry. Frustrated. Why couldn’t Calvin understand? Why couldn’t he see that her job was just as important as his? Yes, Calvin worked hard but his duties ended as soon as he shut down his computer. He could come home and relax. He didn’t have to cook or clean or ferry the children here and there. He didn’t have to shop or organise or help with homework. Judy’s responsibilities were never-ending.

‘What, that little baking job?’ Calvin had followed Judy and was trailing her up the stairs. ‘You work a few hours a day. Try working my hours and then you’ll know what it’s like to be exhausted. I don’t need this crap after a day’s work.’

‘And I don’t need to run around after an overgrown child.’ Judy had reached the bedroom and contemplated slamming the door in Calvin’s face, but that would only diminish her point. Acting like a hormonal teenager wouldn’t give her the upper hand she thought she deserved. ‘I already have two children. I don’t need another.’

‘So I’m like a child now? You should try living my life and you’d soon change your mind.’

Judy reached out to close the door now Calvin was inside the bedroom, not wanting to wake the children. ‘
You
should try living
my
life and then you’d realise what a pig you’re being.’

‘I wish I
could
live your life.’ Calvin thought how luxurious it would be to work part-time without the commute. ‘I’d happily swap lives with you.’

‘Me too!’

Judy and Calvin stood just inches apart, glaring at their spouse. In the movies, they’d fall into each other’s arms and make up like there was no tomorrow. But this was no movie and Judy and Calvin were far too incensed to even think about sex.

‘You think my life is easy, do you?’ Judy asked. There were those damn tears again! She didn’t want to
cry
– she wanted to speak and be heard for a change.

‘Compared to mine, yes. You don’t have a jumped-up prick of a boss breathing down your neck or deadlines looming around every corner. You don’t have to battle rush hour traffic or miss out on the kids’ stuff. Do you think I
wanted
to miss Scott’s award ceremony?’

Judy honestly didn’t know the answer to that. Calvin’s work commitments were unavoidable but she sometimes got the impression Calvin would rather be anywhere else other than with his family.

‘I just need you to understand what my life is like,’ Judy said.

Calvin pulled his hoodie over his head and tossed it towards the laundry basket. It missed by about a foot but he made no attempt to pick it up and try again. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his jeans before climbing into bed.

‘I know what your life is like, Judy. You never stop bleating on about it.’ Calvin turned away from his wife and within minutes he was snoring and making enough noise to rattle the windows. Picking up Calvin’s discarded clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket, Judy got herself ready for bed, but sleep was not as forthcoming for her as it so audibly was for Calvin.

‘I wish we could trade lives,’ she told Calvin’s back. ‘Then you’d understand.’

Chapter Four:
We Made a Wish

The alarm clock jumped to attention, emitting an annoying but effective siren to wake the occupants of the nearby bed. The occupants groaned and stretched but, as no attempt was made to reach for the clock, it kept going, enjoying stretching its clock equivalent of vocal cords. This clock was a true professional. There would be no snoozing on his watch.

From the bed, Calvin groaned, rubbing at his dry, scratchy eyes. How much had he had to drink last night? His brain was fuzzy but he recalled eating turkey with all the trimmings the evening before. So why could he taste mince pie? Slightly burnt mince pie? Had Christmas been and gone already? Did that mean that they had reached the Benvenuti deadline at work? He hoped the rescheduled photo shoot had gone well. He couldn’t remember it at all.

Shoving his head under his pillow, Calvin mumbled something incoherent about turning off the alarm. Though Calvin couldn’t remember much, he was pretty sure it was the weekend. Didn’t a bloke deserve a lie-in at the weekend?

Inches away from Calvin, Judy stretched out a hand, wriggling fingers searching for the off switch on the alarm. How could it be morning already? It seemed like only minutes ago she’d been driving home from her parents’ and having a stupid row with her husband. But she must have been asleep because she’d been having a weird dream about eating one of her burnt mice pies, fairies and pine needles. A life-sized fairy had crashed into the sitting room, waking her and Calvin and upending the Christmas tree.

Wait, she could even taste mince pie. Had she angrily eaten one before bed last night? She hadn’t really done her mum’s festive spread justice yesterday evening, what with seething about Calvin all through the meal. She’d gone to bed hungry so maybe that hunger had driven her to the kitchen in the night. A belly full of burnt pastry would certainly account for the bizarre fairy dream.