The Mince Pie Mix-Up Page 6

  ‘Here we are.’ Laura returned with a fresh bottle and topped up their glasses. Calvin sank half of his glass in one go. ‘Thirsty?’

  ‘It’s been a hard day,’ Calvin said just as a small face appeared at the sitting-room door, demanding one more bedtime story, pleeeeeease.

  Over the course of the evening there were life-threatening thirsts, a tummy ache, a monster under the bed, debilitating hunger, two nightmares (from the same kid who Calvin suspected hadn’t even closed its eyes all evening) and Larry was lost on three more occasions. He was found under the bed, on top of the wardrobe and stuffed in the bathroom cabinet.

  ‘I’m really sorry about this. I won’t be a minute,’ Laura said as a squabble erupted upstairs on the landing. Left alone – again – Calvin polished off the bottle of wine. This wasn’t a night out. It wasn’t relaxing. He may as well have been at home listening to his own children bickering. He wondered how long he would have to remain on Laura’s sofa before he could politely leave.

  Chapter Eight:

  The Gloves Are Off

  Judy had been having quite a nice time being Calvin. As she suspected, being her husband was a breeze. She’d spent the afternoon with Charlie at the bookshop and she didn’t even have to cook when she returned home. She’d then spent the evening watching television and didn’t have to worry at all about the washing piling up in the laundry basket, didn’t have to lug the vacuum cleaner around or scrub the loo. And what bliss not to have to think about the state of Scott’s bedroom!

  But her delight soon wore off on Sunday morning when she was expected to get up early to play football with the lads.

  ‘No way. I can’t play football.’

  ‘You have to.’ Calvin was going to miss meeting up with the lads, but it was worth missing out to see the smugness wiped from Judy’s face. ‘You can’t let the lads down.’

  ‘But I’ll do that anyway if I’m expected to play.’ Judy had never been very good at sports and she hadn’t taken part in any sort of team activity since she was at school. And she didn’t even want to begin totting up how many years that had been. ‘They’re bound to lose if I’m on their team.’

  ‘Relax. It isn’t a match, just a Sunday kick around. Besides, it’s only fair. If I had to sit and listen to Laura bang on about what a useless shit her ex-husband is, you should go and play football.’

  ‘Fine.’ Judy dragged herself out of bed. ‘But I expect a full roast lunch on the table when I get back. It’s only fair.’

  Judy felt ridiculous as she made her way towards the playing field. It was the middle of December and she was freezing her arse off in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Calvin’s hairy legs weren’t keeping her warm at all. She was actually going to freeze to death on that pitch.

  ‘Ah, you made it.’ One of Calvin’s mates jogged by and practically thumped Judy on the shoulder. She winced and gave it a rub but froze (ha!) when she saw what her teammate was wearing. What all the lads were wearing. Instead of the shorts and T-shirts Calvin had insisted she wear, the lads were all dressed in tracksuit bottoms and hoodies. Calvin had tricked her! How on earth had she fallen for that when she washed his muddy kit every week?

  Right, that was it. The gloves were off (funny, Judy could have done with a pair of gloves at that moment in time). There would be no more Nice Judy. There would be no more helpful hints or lists or friendly reminders. Calvin was on his own!

  ‘Come on, Calvin.’ The teammate was jogging backwards towards the others at the centre of the pitch, beckoning for Judy to follow.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ Judy muttered as, head down, she made her way towards the others as though being marched to the gallows. There were ten of them altogether, separated into two teams of five. Calvin had claimed it would be a friendly five-a-side kick about but there was nothing friendly about the ball as it came hurtling towards her at a frightening speed. Judy’s first instinct was to duck. Which she did, to the amusement of her teammates.

  She was glad somebody was finding this game fun, because she certainly wasn’t. While the others ran towards the ball, Judy ran away from it. She yelped every time it came flying towards her and when she did manage to bravely kick it, the ball rolled – rather sluggishly – in the wrong direction.

  Judy had always hated football.

  Now she hated her husband too.

  ‘On your head, son,’ somebody yelled. Judy looked up just in time for the ball to hit her square on the nose. It bounced off her face but Judy didn’t see where it went as her eyes were clamped shut against the pain as she covered her battered nose with her hands. Pulling them away, she looked down at her palms with hazy vision, expecting to see blood pooling, but there was nothing there. Still, her whole face stung and she wasn’t sure she could continue to pretend to play football while stars danced around her head, cartoon style.

  ‘Calvin!’

  Judy squinted at the blurry mass heading towards her and then down at her feet where the ball was rolling towards her. She pulled back her foot and, imagining the ball was Calvin’s head, gave it an almighty kick.

  She completely missed the ball, which was hardly surprising considering her face was caved in and everything. Not that any of the lads cared about her injury. The game continued around her and not one person asked if she was okay. They were barbarians, the lot of them.

  Judy wanted to fall to her knees and weep with gratitude when the ordeal was finally over.

  ‘Is it really over?’ she asked as they made their way off the pitch. She was caked in mud and delirious with fear and possible hypothermia. Her nose felt like it had swelled to quadruple its normal size and her eyes were still watering. She thought she’d heard them say the match had finished, but she wanted to be absolutely certain before she got her hopes up.

  ‘It was over for you before it even began, mate.’ One of her teammates – Curtis, Judy had gathered during the match – clapped her on the back, the unexpected force almost sending her to the ground. Not that it would have made much difference – she couldn’t get any muddier. ‘What’s up with you today? Heavy night last night?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Judy was trotting alongside Curtis in order to keep up with his long strides. Judy had inherited Calvin’s legs but she wasn’t all that sure how to use them to full advantage yet.

  ‘A pint or two will sort you out, lad.’

  ‘I should be getting back to Judy and the kids,’ Judy said, but her words were only met with laughter from Curtis.

  ‘Funny. For that, I’ll get the first round in.’

  Judy trooped after Curtis and a couple of the other lads – Richie and Pierce – following them into the pub. It had been ages since Judy had been inside the White Swan and it had changed hands several times since. She didn’t recognise anybody either seated in the pub or stationed behind the bar, but they seemed to recognise her husband. It would have been exhausting playing along at any other time, but near impossible when it felt like she’d just challenged Usain Bolt to a lap around the football pitch and Amir Khan to a boxing match.

  ‘A pint, is it?’ Curtis asked as the barmaid made her way over to them.

  ‘No, I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.’

  Too late, Judy realised her mistake. Calvin didn’t drink red wine. Whoops.

  ‘Oh.’ Curtis’s eyes were wide as he looked from Judy to Richie and Pierce. ‘Okay then. What about you two? A pint? Or how about a Tia Maria with Coke? With a little umbrella.’

  The three of them cracked up while Judy wondered if they’d notice if she crept out of the pub and scurried home before she caused any more damage to her husband’s reputation. She knew football with the lads would turn out to be a huge mistake.

  ‘Three pints and a red wine for the lady,’ Curtis said to the barmaid, barely able to hide his smirk. If only he knew that his comment was spot on. He paid for the drinks and they carried them to an empty table next to the manically flashing fruit machine. Pierce fed an alarming amount
of pound coins into the machine without any success.

  ‘So how’d it go with Mandy last night?’ Curtis asked Pierce when he rejoined them with lighter pockets.

  Pierce shook his head. ‘Not good.’

  ‘Who’s Mandy?’ Richie asked.

  ‘Met her on Tinder.’ Pierce took a sip of his pint. ‘When I said I worked with cars, she got it into her head I was some big shot car salesman. She thought I was minted so it was a bit of a disappointment when she found out I’m actually a mechanic at the village garage.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic,’ Judy said. She couldn’t help it. Poor Pierce looked crushed, but that could have been because he’d just shoved thirty quid in the fruit machine and lost the lot.

  ‘I know that. Mandy not so much. She only dates “successful” guys, apparently.’

  ‘You’re better off without her. You deserve somebody who will truly appreciate you for who you are.’ Judy took a sip of her wine, closing her eyes to truly savour it. Man, that tasted glorious after the stress of the past couple of days.

  When she opened her eyes, three sets of eyes were upon her.

  Too flowery advice, perhaps? Judy needed to rectify the situation, and fast.

  She gave Calvin’s bollocks a good scratch. ‘So, um, you didn’t shag her then?’

  While Judy had been freezing on the football pitch, Calvin had been sweating in the kitchen. It had taken all morning and several attempts, but he finally had four dozen mince pies (minus one. They needed testing before Calvin could bestow them on the public – he couldn’t risk body swapping the entire village, either!). The mince pies were cooling on racks, ready for the Christmas lights switch-on that evening. After all the baking, Calvin didn’t have time to make a full-on roast so he made sausages and chips instead, which was just as good. Judy wasn’t impressed when she shuffled through to the kitchen, aching and miserable after her morning playing football. She hadn’t enjoyed the experience one bit and she now had mud lodged in unmentionable places.

  But Judy was too exhausted to complain and simply sat at the table and ate the food provided.

  ‘How was it?’ As proud as Calvin was of his baking efforts, he’d missed seeing his mates that morning. He enjoyed being part of a team, the camaraderie that came with it. You didn’t get that with a mixing bowl and a pre-heated oven.

  ‘Cold.’ Judy glared at her husband.

  ‘Oh?’ Calvin feigned ignorance but Judy’s expression soon lightened.

  ‘By the way, your friends have given you a new nickname. They dragged me to the pub after the game and I ordered a glass of red wine instead of your usual pint. So now they think you’re a great big sissy girl and have started to call you Gal-Vin.’

  Fantastic. Calvin would have to do some serious damage control when he got his body back.

  The family gathered around the table and, while it wasn’t the roast she felt she was owed, Judy was so ravenous she ate the sausages and chips without a word.

  ‘Did you get the baking done for Enid?’ Judy asked once everybody had eaten. Scott had gone for a final practice before his band’s debut gig and Charlie was occupied with her Frozen DVD. Again.

  The kitchen was either surprisingly or suspiciously clean.

  ‘Yep, it’s all done and packed in boxes ready to go.’ Calvin leaned back in his chair, emitting smugness into the air. ‘And I’ve cleaned up after myself and everything.’ Or rather Scott had, for a fee. ‘Are four dozen mince going to be enough? I could eat most of those on my own.’

  ‘Enid’s making some too and you can always knock out a few more batches if you start to run low,’ Judy said. ‘Did you manage to make the stained-glass snowmen?’

  ‘Whoa, wait a minute.’ Calvin held up his hands, palms out. ‘Nobody said I had to do anything fancy with glass.’

  Judy rolled her eyes. Even that movement hurt after her morning on the pitch. ‘They’re biscuits. I left the recipe for you and asked you to bake three batches. They were quite popular last year.’

  Calvin shook his head. ‘I forgot.’

  ‘You’d better get your apron back on then.’ Judy rose painfully to her feet. ‘I’m going for a bath. You’d better hurry up with those biscuits. We have to leave in a couple of hours. Besides. I can’t risk any baking. Just look at what happened with the last batch of pies I made!’

  Hauling herself upstairs, Judy peeled off her football kit, placing the muddy clothes in the laundry basket. Calvin didn’t own a dressing gown so she squeezed his body into her own and was about to head into the bathroom when she realised her mistake. Pulling the dirty kit from the basket, she dumped it on the floor and left it for Calvin to deal with.

  The warm bubble bath felt heavenly as Judy slipped underneath the water, allowing her aches and pains to be sluiced away with the grime. Her bones ached from the cold despite sitting in the warmth of the pub all afternoon but she finally began to thaw. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she’d have to repeat this process next week – she’d deal with that later. For now she would make the most of the peace and quiet while enjoying the knowledge that she didn’t have to work tonight. Maybe she would have felt guilty about Calvin taking over her role in The Green Teapot while she had fun with the kids, but that was before he tricked her into running around a freezing cold football pitch in a pair of shorts and a flimsy T-shirt.

  Judy emerged from the bath feeling like a completely new Calvin. This Calvin was refreshed and ready to face the challenges ahead. She dried herself off before folding the towel and placing it on the heated towel rail.

  ‘Silly me.’ Judy grabbed the towel and dumped it on the bathroom floor.

  Yes, the gloves were most certainly off. Let the games well and truly begin.

  Chapter Nine:

  It Isn’t (Christmas) Fair

  The village green was buzzing with excitement and anticipation as the residents waited for the annual Christmas lights switch-on. A prominent figure in the village was always chosen for the all-important switch-on, and this year it was Mrs Ephron, the headmistress from Charlie’s school, who had been given the honour. The headmistress had taken on celebrity status for the evening and was being treated accordingly by her fans. A sizeable group of children had gathered around the teacher, firing questions at her as they reached out to touch her bright red duffel coat.

  ‘Can I go and see Mrs Ephron? Can I go and see Mrs Ephron?’ Charlie was bouncing up and down on the spot, tugging on Calvin’s hand. She saw Mrs Ephron practically every day but it was of paramount importance that she get a glimpse of her right now.

  ‘Go on then,’ Calvin replied. His hand was dropped instantly as Charlie tore off across the green.

  ‘Make sure you stay where I can see you.’ Judy kept an eye on Charlie as she bounded away to the small crowd of children that had gathered around the bemused head teacher. ‘Right, you need to get these pies and biscuits over to The Green Teapot.’ She turned to Calvin but the spot beside her was empty. Her husband had disappeared, leaving her with a pile of boxes filled with baked goods. Trying to spot him on the crowded green was impossible, especially as it was already growing dark.

  Holding in a sigh, Judy trudged towards Charlie and began the arduous task of prising her away from the celebrity teacher while juggling a tower of boxes.

  ‘Please, Charlie. We’ll come back. I just need to drop these off with Enid and then find your mum.’ She flashed her best pleading eyes at Charlie. They had about as much effect on Charlie as they’d had on Calvin during the kids’ night feeds: none at all. ‘I’ll get you a hot chocolate.’

  Charlie slid her eyes away from Mrs Ephron. ‘With whipped cream?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And marshmallows?’

  Judy shifted the boxes in her arms. They were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Quite how she’d ended up with them instead of Calvin was a mystery to her.

  ‘Fine. Whipped cream and marshmallows.’

  Charlie skipped a
head of Judy, stopping at the edge of the green so they could cross the road together. The Green Teapot was toasty warm when they stepped inside, the air filled with the smell of freshly baked mince pies, which Enid had just pulled out of the oven.

  ‘Judy isn’t here, is she?’ Judy asked as she dumped the boxes on the counter. It was a long shot, Judy knew, but worth a try.

  ‘I haven’t seen her yet,’ Enid confirmed.

  Damn it. ‘Do you mind if I leave Charlie here for a minute? I need to find Judy.’ She had a fair idea where ‘Judy’ would be and, if ‘she’ was there, Judy was going to wring ‘her’ neck.

  ‘Of course not.’ Enid held out a hand for the child. ‘You can help me put the icing sugar on top of the mince pies if you’d like.’

  ‘Thanks, Enid. I won’t be long.’ Judy rushed out of the tea room and headed across the green, bypassing the craft stalls and tombola and heading straight for the beer tent.

  ‘Calvin!’ Judy placed her hands on her hips as she stood in the entrance of the tent. She caught a few funny looks from its patrons and shook her head. ‘I mean Judy! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Enjoying the fair.’ Calvin lifted his pint, half of which had already been slugged. ‘Isn’t that why we’re here?’

  Judy stomped towards Calvin and snatched the pint from his hands, slamming it down on the makeshift bar. ‘You’re supposed to be working.’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’ Judy grasped her husband by the hand and started to tow him out of the tent. ‘I’ve dropped the mince pies and biscuits off already. We’ll pop in for a cup of tea later.’

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ Calvin grumbled, looking around at the packed green. The school choir was singing Christmassy songs by the unlit tree while stalls had been set up around the perimeter. There was everything from face painters and balloon modellers to crafts stalls and catering vans, not forgetting what to Calvin was the pièce de résistance – the hog roast. People milled around, stuffed into winter coats and hats while they cradled hot chocolates or mulled wine. Calvin wanted to join in the festivities. Or at least finish his pint.