The Mince Pie Mix-Up Page 8

  Calvin nodded and flopped down on the stool in front of the dressing table. ‘They’re in the oven so I’ve only got a few minutes to do this make-up thing.’

  Judy had arranged a ton of pots and tubes and pallets on the dressing table. She began with a squirt of peach-coloured liquid on the back of Calvin’s hand, which she instructed him to rub onto his face.

  ‘Not like that.’ Judy grasped Calvin’s hand to halt him. ‘It isn’t soap. Carefully. Like this.’ She demonstrated with her own fingertips until his entire face was covered.

  ‘It itches,’ Calvin complained.

  ‘It does not.’ Judy applied two round patches of blush to his cheeks.

  Calvin pulled a face in the mirror. ‘I look like a clown.’

  ‘At least you’ll be funny for once in your life.’ Judy grabbed a peach-coloured powder, which she applied liberally to his face with a puffy sponge.

  ‘I look like a ghost.’

  Judy sighed loudly. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’ Using a large brush, she swept off most of the powder. Calvin didn’t see the point of putting it on in the first place. At least his clown cheeks had been toned down, leaving only a rosy glow.

  Judy showed Calvin how to apply subtle eyeshadow and a coat of mascara. Calvin shot down the idea of eyeliner when he caught sight of the kohl pencil.

  ‘There is no way you’re going near my eyeballs with a sharp object.’

  Judy handed him the pencil. ‘You do it then.’

  Calvin looked down at the pencil in his hand and shook his head. ‘There’s no way anybody is going near my eyeballs with a sharp object. Not even me.’

  ‘Fine.’ Judy placed the cap back on the eyeliner. ‘We’ll miss that part out.’ She uncapped a creamy pink lipstick and demonstrated how Calvin should put his lips so she could apply it but Calvin couldn’t grasp the concept at all. He either gurned toothily at her or tucked his lips into his mouth.

  ‘Like this.’ Judy spread out her own lips and applied a coat of the lipstick. Charlie chose that exact moment in time to burst into the room, enquiring about her school uniform.

  ‘It’s hung up in your wardrobe, sweetie,’ Judy said, throwing the tube of lipstick into Calvin’s hands. ‘I’ll come and get it for you in a minute.’ Judy shook her head. ‘Your mum will come and get it for you in a minute.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Calvin leapt up from the stool and charged towards the bedroom door, dodging past Charlie before throwing himself down the stairs two at a time. ‘The mince pies!’

  Luckily Calvin managed to rescue the mince pies from the oven just in the nick of time. They were a little more golden than usual, but salvageable. He didn’t have time to drop them off at The Green Teapot before taking Charlie to school, but ten minutes wouldn’t make much of a difference. Who had mince pies for breakfast, anyway?

  Judy had left for work earlier, after Calvin had reminded her to wipe off the pink lipstick, and he’d somehow managed to keep things ticking along. He’d rustled up a second batch of mince pies, made up the packed lunches and he’d somehow dragged a brush through Charlie’s messy curls. He didn’t know who that was more traumatic for – poor Charlie whose hair had been wrenched out, with clumps of it now knotted in the hairbrush, or Calvin, who’d inflicted pain on his child.

  ‘Mummy?’ Charlie asked as she skipped alongside Calvin. Scott had left for the bus on time and now he and Charlie were walking to school. Calvin knew being Judy would be a piece of piss.

  ‘Yes, sweetie?’ Calvin hitched the boxes of mince pies into a more comfortable position, causing a warm, festive smell to waft out of the box. His stomach rumbled. Forget what he’d said about not having mince pies for breakfast. It was quite clearly the way forward.

  Would Enid miss one measly little pie?

  ‘Why does Daddy keep calling me sweetie?’ Charlie asked. ‘You call me sweetie. It’s weird.’

  ‘Maybe he just fancied a change?’ Calvin couldn’t help feeling a little bit smug that his wife was messing up this time and not him.

  ‘Is that why he was wearing lipstick this morning?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Calvin answered quickly. ‘He doesn’t fancy that much of a change. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with men wearing make-up. Nothing at all. Some men like to wear make-up. Some like to wear ladies’ clothes and that’s okay too.’ Calvin was sweating despite the December chill.

  ‘Okay.’ Calvin was relieved when Charlie accepted his answer and skipped off towards the school gates. She disappeared into the playground as Calvin wandered after her.

  ‘Hello, Judy.’ Mrs Moneybags from the ballet class sidled up beside Calvin, almost choking him with the cloud of expensive perfume that permeated the air around her. ‘I saw your son playing during the lights switch-on last night. It was … different.’ She turned to the entourage that had followed and they all shared a barely disguised snigger. ‘I thought it was wonderfully festive but I hear the vicar was not happy at all.’

  ‘That’s because he’s a miserable old git,’ Calvin said, which caused a collective gasp from the gaggle of women.

  Mrs Moneybags placed a hand on her chest and blinked back supposed tears (although her eyes looked perfectly dry to Calvin). ‘Reverend Brown is a pillar of our community. He does so much for our village and its residents and I believe that should earn him a little bit of respect, don’t you?’

  ‘Not when he’s looking down his nose at my son.’ Calvin shifted the boxes of mince pies. Although they weren’t heavy, they were cumbersome. Now he understood why Judy dropped them off at the tea room first.

  ‘He wasn’t looking down his nose at your son. Merely expressing his shock and surprise at the vulgarity of the song.’

  ‘I thought you said it was wonderfully festive,’ Calvin pointed out. ‘Which is it? Festive or vulgar?’

  Mrs Moneybags floundered, her cosmetically overworked lips twitching. In the end she threw back her mane of glossy black hair and stuck her chin in the air. ‘It can be both.’

  ‘No.’ Calvin shook his head. ‘It can’t.’

  ‘Mrs Neil?’

  Mrs Moneybags looked relieved as Judy’s name was called from across the playground and led her entourage away, muttering about Judy and her obvious lack of respect rubbing off on her children. Calvin couldn’t retaliate as a teacher was striding across the playground towards him.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Neil. So glad I caught you.’ The teacher stopped in front of Calvin, wheezing slightly from the effort of her dash across the playground. ‘How are you getting on with the costumes?’

  ‘They’re fine. Really good, thank you.’ Calvin didn’t have a clue what the woman was talking about.

  ‘So they’ll be ready for Wednesday?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  The woman gave a relief-filled wheeze. ‘Brilliant. Thank you so much, Mrs Neil. What would I do without you, eh?’

  The teacher dashed back across the playground and Calvin located his child.

  ‘Who is that?’ he asked, pointing at the teacher who was now conversing with Mrs Moneybags and her herd of pals.

  Charlie giggled. ‘That’s my teacher, silly. Miss Daniels.’

  ‘And what did she mean by costumes?’

  Charlie rolled her little eyes and hitched her backpack into place. ‘The costumes for the nativity. You’re making them.’

  ‘I’m making them?’ Of course he was. He was surprised Judy hadn’t put him forward to write and direct the whole damn thing.

  ‘Come along, Charlie!’ Miss Daniels called. The other children had lined up in front of the school. Charlie gave Calvin a quick kiss on the cheek before she tore off to join her classmates.

  ‘Guess what, Miss Daniels?’ Charlie said as she passed her teacher on her way into the school. ‘My daddy likes to wear make-up. I think he likes wearing Mummy’s clothes too but she says it’s okay.’

  ‘Charlie!’ Calvin hissed but it was too late. Charlie had already skipped inside and everyone around them – including Mrs
Moneybags – had heard everything.

  Chapter Eleven:

  The Fifth Stage in Wish-Fulfilment: Acknowledgement

  The Green Teapot was thankfully a lot quieter than it had been the evening before. Only two tables were occupied, each with just one customer sipping tea.

  ‘Good morning, Duck,’ the female occupant said as Calvin stepped into the tea room. ‘I heard your young lad playing last night. Jolly good fun.’

  ‘I don’t think the vicar thought so,’ the male occupant said with a chuckle. ‘I heard he went into a state of shock and had to be put straight to bed with a hot cocoa.’

  ‘Don’t be so daft, Norman.’ The woman gave a tut. ‘It was just a song. We sang far worse than that in my day.’

  ‘But there was a war on then. It was different.’

  ‘I was barely out of nappies during the war, you cheeky beggar.’ The woman drained her cup. ‘I’ll have another cup of tea when you’re ready, Judy. And a slice of buttered toast, please.’

  Calvin dumped the boxes of mince pies in the kitchen and hung up his coat before tying an apron around his waist. Luckily this one had a simple floral design and there wasn’t a jingling hat in sight.

  ‘I’ll do Mrs Freeman’s order,’ Enid said as Calvin gave his hands a quick wash. ‘You’d better get on with the gingerbread men. We’ve got the parent and toddler group in at ten and they’re always a hit with the little ones.’

  Calvin reached into the pocket of his jeans and was relieved when his fingers made contact with the slip of paper Judy had handed over that morning. It contained a step-by-step guide to gingerbread men.

  ‘I’m not doing this to help you,’ Judy had said as she’d handed it over. ‘I’m doing it so you don’t poison anybody and put Enid out of business.’

  As well as his baking duties, Calvin also had to serve the customers. There was a rush of pensioners just after nine o’clock but luckily they required nothing more complicated than a buttered teacake and a pot of tea. The pensioners, apart from Norman and Mrs Freeman – who it seemed were part of the furniture at The Green Teapot – had all left by half past nine. Enid was busy baking scones and a lemon drizzle cake by the time the parent and toddler group arrived, bringing with them their own special brand of chaos. The gingerbread men that Calvin had agonised over were destroyed within minutes, either sucked to death, crushed beneath stampeding toddler feet or bashed into oblivion by plastic trucks.

  ‘It’s such a joyful sight, isn’t it?’ Mrs Freeman said to Norman, who was now sitting at her table to make room for the hordes of families squeezed inside. ‘I love seeing the little kiddies enjoying themselves.’

  ‘Speaking of joyful sights …’

  Calvin, who had been bent over with a dustpan and brush to sweep up the remains of a poor gingerbread man, straightened at Norman’s words. Sure enough, when he turned around, the octogenarian was grinning at him, his dentures gleaming in the light.

  ‘And what joyful sights would those be?’ It wasn’t the first comment Calvin had overheard that morning. Norman had already commented on Judy’s ‘lovely, shapely legs’ and her ‘gorgeous baps’ (sorry, I meant your teacakes. Tasty, they are).

  ‘The children playing.’ Norman winked at Calvin. If only he knew who he was really leering at, the filthy old git. Calvin turned around to continue with his cleaning duties but the bristles of his brush didn’t get chance to reach the crumbs before he felt a hand on his behind. He froze until he felt a pinch and then he was out of there, sprinting towards the kitchen where he planned to hide until Norman had gone.

  What the hell?

  Who did the bloke think he was, manhandling him like that? He wasn’t a piece of bloody meat!

  ‘Are you busy?’ Enid asked, popping her head into the kitchen. ‘The little ones have gone and I could do with a hand cleaning up. It’s always a mammoth job but it’s so lovely to see them enjoying themselves, isn’t it?’

  Calvin made a non-committal sound as he crept towards the door, peeping into the tea room and checking to make sure the coast was clear before he emerged. Thankfully both Mrs Freeman and Norman Greene had gone.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ Enid asked as she passed Calvin with a sweeping brush.

  I am now that filthy old git isn’t here, Calvin thought, but he simply nodded and grabbed a cloth to wipe down the tables.

  Judy couldn’t believe her luck as she sank into her new office chair. Instead of sweating in the tea room’s kitchen or dodging gingerbread-man missiles flying from podgy little hands, she got to sit in a comfortable chair. All day. Granted, de-icing the car first thing in the morning in the freezing cold wasn’t much fun, but one little glitch was worth it for the luxury afforded her for the rest of the day.

  Judy swivelled in her chair as she waited for Calvin’s computer to load, taking in her new colleagues and surroundings. Calvin’s desk was a mess with papers and files scattered across its entire surface, but she smiled when she caught sight of a framed photo poking out of the rubble. It was a family photo, taken the previous year during a weekend in Blackpool. Clearing a bit of space on the desk, Judy gave the photo pride of place. Now everybody could see Charlie grinning at the camera and Scott almost smiling despite the pouring rain in the background.

  What should Judy do first? Coffee would be good. She’d noticed a vending machine down in the little reception area on her way in. She would enjoy a coffee and then she would have a proper go at tidying Calvin’s desk. It was no wonder his life was so disorganised and he forgot everything when his desk was so unruly. There should be a desk calendar somewhere. Judy had bought it for Calvin last Christmas, to help him keep on top of all the dates that seemed to fly out of his head almost as soon as she’d relayed them.

  Judy was rising out of her seat when a short, plump man thundered his way into the office, the door slamming against the wall in his haste.

  Judy dropped back down into her seat.

  ‘Has the Benvenuti photo shoot been rescheduled?’

  Judy looked down at the desk. Please don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me. She’d heard Calvin mention the Benvenuti campaign and, although she knew it was important for the company, she didn’t have a clue who or what a Benvenuti was.

  ‘Neil!’

  Phew. Judy sank into her seat with relief. This Neil bloke would have more of a clue about the photo shoot than she did.

  ‘Neil!’ The mean little man thundered his way towards Judy and came to a stop in front of her desk. He leaned in towards her, his red face mere millimetres from hers. They were practically nose-to-nose, which was far too close when she hadn’t even been introduced to the bloke. ‘Are you awake, Neil? Having a little nap down there, are you?’

  Uh oh. He’d been addressing Calvin by his surname. How very Victorian. ‘Sorry. Yes, I’m wide awake. Sir.’ Judy’s knees were knocking beneath the desk and her palms were clammy.

  The man – Judy guessed it was Calvin’s boss, Perry – folded his arms across his chest and leaned in close, breathing all over Judy with his nasty coffee-and-cigarettes breath. ‘And what about the bleeding Benvenuti photo shoot?’

  ‘Um …’ Judy started to rifle through the papers on Calvin’s desk, hoping the answer would jump out at her. Her hesitation only infuriated Perry further. His chubby face started to turn purple, making him resemble a large plum. ‘Can you give me a minute?’

  ‘You’ve got thirty seconds to get your act together, Neil. I’ll be in my office.’ Perry stormed out of the room, almost wrenching the door from its hinges.

  Okay, maybe stepping into Calvin’s work shoes wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d thought.

  The allotted thirty seconds passed far more quickly than Judy would have liked. She rifled through the papers on the desk some more but found neither the answer to Perry’s question nor the desk calendar. But whether she had the answer or not, she had to go and see Perry as she feared what the outcome would be if she disobeyed his order.

  With trembling
legs, Judy made her way to Perry’s office, knocking timidly at the door. She tried to channel Calvin’s confidence but it wasn’t forthcoming and so it was a jelly-like Judy who stepped into the boss’s office.

  ‘Well?’ Perry barked before she’d even got her toes over the threshold. ‘The photo shoot?’

  Judy crept into the room, closing the door behind her and sitting down opposite the red-faced Perry.

  ‘The thing is …’ she began, only to falter when she couldn’t think what the ‘thing’ could be. She could hardly come clean and admit that she didn’t have a clue about the photo shoot as she wasn’t really Calvin Neil and was, in fact, his wife.

  ‘The thing is,’ she repeated, hoping inspiration would strike. It did not.

  ‘Just tell me what’s happening with the Benvenuti photo shoot, you moronic tit!’ Perry was practically foaming at the mouth as he leaned towards Judy, his bulging eyes bright white against his purple face.

  Judy cleared her throat. ‘The thing is …’

  ‘I don’t give a flying shit about the thing.’ Perry threw up his arms, catapulting a bunch of papers into the air. They fluttered to the floor, fanning themselves out along the carpet. ‘The photo shoot, Neil. Is it on or off?’ He slammed his fist down on the desk, catching the end of a stapler and sending it flying through the air where it clattered against the windowpane (thankfully without damaging it), bounced off the sill and landed with a thud on the floor. The stapler flipped open and upended its staples, scattering them across the carpet like confetti.

  ‘Well …’ Judy took a wild guess that the words ‘I don’t know’ would see her meeting the same fate as the contents of Perry’s desk. Luckily a knock at the door prevented her from having to utter them.

  ‘What is it, Sarah?’ Perry barked as a pretty face poked its head into the office.

  Sarah was out of breath when she answered. ‘The guys said you were asking about the photo shoot.’ She thrust a thumb back towards the main office. ‘So I came to let you know that it’s been rescheduled. For Friday.’