The Mince Pie Mix-Up Page 9

  ‘Friday?’ Judy and Sarah both jumped as Perry’s voice boomed. ‘Friday? We have Benvenuti himself coming in for the presentation on Friday.’ Perry’s left eye started to tick. Francesco Benvenuti liked to pop into the office whenever it took his fancy. He liked to know every little thing that was going on with the campaign, which was fair enough, Perry had to concede. He was paying them a shed load of money, after all. But what wasn’t okay was the fact he wanted every little thing presented to him, like Elizabeth I demanding a performance from Shakespeare.

  ‘I can reschedule,’ Sarah offered, which earned her a string of expletives that she and Judy took as a big, fat no.

  ‘You’ll have to go to the photo shoot,’ Perry told Sarah with a decisive nod of his head. ‘Calvin, you can cope with the presentation, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Now was not the time for Judy to falter. She’d annoyed Calvin’s boss enough and feared his head would explode if he was provoked any further.

  ‘That’s settled then. You …’ – he pointed at Sarah as he rose from his desk – ‘clean this mess up.’ Making a sweeping gesture at the papers and staples on the floor, he strode out of the office. Sarah visibly deflated with relief as he disappeared from view, but it would take a lot longer for Judy to recover.

  ‘Let me do that,’ Judy offered as Sarah dropped to her knees on the carpet and began gathering the papers. ‘It’s my fault they ended up on the floor.’

  ‘It’s my fault he’s in such a rage about the photo shoot in the first place,’ Sarah said.

  Judy joined Sarah on the floor and plucked the segments of staplers from the carpet. ‘We’ll do it together then.’

  Judy was exhausted – both physically and emotionally – when she finally made it home that evening. It was such a relief to find that tea was almost ready as the thought of spending the evening cooking filled her with dread. She wanted to eat, have a bath and go to bed.

  ‘How was your day?’ Calvin asked as she joined him in the kitchen.

  Judy opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘What do you think?’ She shook the bottle at Calvin and he smiled.

  ‘My life isn’t as easy as you think, is it?’

  ‘I never said your life was easy.’ Judy grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it to the brim. ‘I just wanted you to appreciate that mine was no picnic either.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, my day hasn’t been all that great.’ Calvin pulled out the grill and turned the sausages. ‘Charlie told her teacher that her dad likes to wear make-up and women’s clothes.’ Judy pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. ‘Which isn’t even a little bit funny. I also had a bit of a thing with that snooty cow who’s going on a cruise.’

  ‘Abby Frost.’ Judy took a sip of wine, savouring its chilly goodness as it slipped down her throat. ‘You’re better off ignoring her.’

  ‘Hmm, easier said than done.’ Calvin started setting the table and smiled appreciatively when Judy gave him a hand. ‘I also had my bum pinched by a randy pensioner at work.’

  Judy suppressed another smile. ‘Ah, Norman Greene.’

  ‘What is that about? Does he do that all the time?’

  Judy gave a shrug. ‘He can be a bit hands-y.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’ Calvin removed the chips from the oven and started to dish them up. ‘I shouldn’t have to put up with that. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.’

  ‘He means no harm.’ Judy topped up her glass and sat down at the table. ‘I try to ignore him.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Calvin added the sausages to the plates together with a helping of baked beans. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that.’

  ‘It’s been a bit of an eye-opener, hasn’t it?’ Judy asked.

  ‘It certainly has.’ Calvin was utterly exhausted. He was beginning to suspect that he may have been a little misguided when he’d said that Judy had it easy. ‘How many more days until this wish is over?’

  Chapter Twelve:

  Monday Night Blues

  Calvin’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to pin pieces of shiny, slippery material together the way Judy had demonstrated before she’d buggered off to the pub to play pool with his mates. With a little bartering, the pair had agreed to help each other out. Judy had given Calvin a quick sewing lesson in exchange for marketing information, particularly with the Benvenuti campaign in mind. Calvin had suggested that Sarah take over the presentation on Friday as she’d done the majority of the research and knew her stuff, but that was no longer possible as Sarah would be away from the office at the photo shoot.

  Calvin was scared about what would happen to both his job and his marriage if the Benvenuti campaign, which he’d worked his bollocks off for, went tits up on Friday.

  ‘Your boss is awful,’ Judy had complained as she’d demonstrated the art of threading a needle that evening. ‘He swears all the time. It’s disgusting. Plus, he kept checking up on me every twenty minutes as though I’m incompetent. And you’d have thought I was siphoning off the company’s stationery when I asked for a new pen.’

  ‘At least you weren’t molested.’ Calvin had been trying and failing to thread his own needle. Judy made it look so simple.

  ‘No, there is that.’ Judy grinned at Calvin as she took the needle from him and threaded it in a split second. How did she do that? It was witchcraft.

  ‘What do I do now?’

  Judy demonstrated a small running stitch. It looked easy peasy.

  It wasn’t.

  Why weren’t Calvin’s stitches neat and straight like Judy’s were when he was copying her exactly?

  ‘What are you doing?’ Calvin, panicked, looked down at Judy’s sewing, which she’d abandoned on the coffee table.

  ‘I’m off to the pub. Don’t wait up, darling.’

  So now Calvin was on his own, haphazardly putting together extra costumes for the nativity play. There had been a baby boom in the village apparently, meaning the school needed more costumes but was too miserly to pay for them. But it was quite nice to be actually sitting down for a change, actually. For the past few days, Calvin had been running around after everybody else. If he wasn’t baking or serving in the tea room, he was ferrying the kids to school or football and ballet. And then when he got home he had to cook while putting on loads of washing, feeding the dog and helping with homework. It was relentless.

  A door slamming upstairs put Calvin’s teeth on edge. His son moved about the house like a large herd of elephants, causing noise and havoc wherever he went. Putting down his sewing, Calvin headed up the stairs and opened his son’s bedroom door. The whiff of sweaty socks almost knocked him back down the stairs again.

  ‘Can you keep it down? Your sister’s in bed.’ Calvin’s eyes widened as he took in Scott’s bedroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it with the light on and was dismayed at the carnage before him. Dirty clothes hung from every surface while mouldy mugs loitered about the place and uncased X-Box games, DVDs and what Calvin assumed was homework were abandoned in various spots around the room.

  ‘What have you done to this place?’ Calvin braved the stench and stepped inside the room, crossing to the window, which he flung open wide.

  ‘What?’ Scott glanced around his room, his eyebrows low in confusion.

  ‘What?’ Calvin laughed, assuming his child was joking. It turned out he wasn’t. ‘Look around you! There is filth everywhere! Get those mugs washed, put your washing in the laundry basket and tidy up.’

  ‘What, now?’ Scott apparently had more important things to do, a fact that was disguised by his lounging position on the bed with nothing but his iPod distracting him.

  ‘Yes, now.’ Calvin backed out of the room, breathing in the fresh air in the hallway. His son was a pig. An absolute pig. Why did Judy let him get away with living like that?

  Judy didn’t get her relaxing bubble bath that evening and instead made her way into the White Swan, where she found Curtis and
Pierce already around the pool table. Judy bought a round, making sure she ordered a pint for herself this time. She was tempted to order a half as she’d already worked her way through two rather large glasses of wine during tea, but she wasn’t sure how well that would go down with Curtis.

  ‘Isn’t Richie coming tonight?’ Pierce asked when she returned with the drinks. She shrugged her shoulders while Curtis’s usually animated face dimmed.

  ‘It’s a bit hard for him to get out at the moment. You know, since the Danielle thing.’

  ‘What Danielle thing?’ Judy picked up a pool cue, rubbing the end with the cube of blue chalk. She hadn’t played pool since her days in the Students’ Union bar and she’d only played then so she could flirt with Calvin. She’d loved the feel of his body pressed against hers as he leaned over her to demonstrate how to take each shot.

  It had been a long time since they’d done anything flirty.

  ‘You know.’ Curtis cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. ‘The miscarriage.’

  All thoughts of fun and flirtiness left Judy’s mind. ‘Richie’s wife had a miscarriage?’ Poor Richie. Poor Danielle. ‘When?’

  ‘Last month.’ Curtis grabbed the white ball and placed it in the semicircle at the end of the pool table. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘Yes, but I forgot.’ Judy cringed. She forgot?

  Curtis shook his head. ‘You’re all heart, Calvin.’ He lined up his shot and struck the cue ball, scattering the reds and yellows at the other end of the table. ‘Anyway, Pierce. How did it go with Jessica? She looked fit.’

  ‘Not good, mate. Not good.’ Pierce filled them in on his date last night, which consisted of a meal followed by the cinema.

  ‘She made me pay for the food and the film – which she picked. Bloody chick flick – and then wouldn’t give me as much as a kiss at the end of the night. Frigid cow.’

  ‘Maybe she isn’t frigid at all,’ Judy suggested. ‘Maybe she just has standards.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Judy moved around the table, deciding which shot was the best – easiest – to attempt. ‘Maybe she wants to take things slowly. Not all girls want to jump into bed on the first date.’

  ‘Like he said,’ Curtis piped up. ‘Frigid.’

  Pierce laughed. Judy did not. She took her shot, whacking the ball with too much force and not nearly enough precision.

  ‘Not frigid, no. Sensible.’ She straightened as the balls scattered after her silly shot, none of her balls – and luckily none of Curtis’s – sinking into the pockets. ‘Are you going to see her again?’

  Pierce shrugged his shoulders. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘There you go then.’ Judy flashed a triumphant grin. ‘Why should she kiss you – let alone anything else – when you’re not actually interested in getting to know her?’

  ‘He doesn’t want to get to know the bird,’ Curtis said, lining up his next shot. ‘He wants to get laid.’

  Judy resisted the urge to lodge her pool cue up Curtis’s arsehole as he bent over the table. ‘Then good on Jessica for resisting his charms.’

  ‘You’re a right boring bastard lately,’ Curtis said but Pierce seemed to be mulling her words over. If only for a few seconds before he belched and cracked himself and Curtis up.

  Judy somehow managed to make it through the rest of the evening. They were joined by the rest of the pub’s pool team, apart from Richie, and Judy thought she held her own at pool, even if she didn’t actually win any of the games. Luckily, the team didn’t have any matches on until after Christmas, which was a relief.

  It was just after eleven when Judy crept into the house. Calvin was still up, squinting at the swathes of fabric as he stitched them together.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Judy flopped – exhausted and a little bit tipsy – onto an armchair.

  ‘It’s been brilliant.’ Judy detected a note of sarcasm in her husband’s words. ‘Best three hours of my life. I’m sober, have watched mind-numbing soaps and I’ve stabbed myself three million times with the needle.’

  ‘Do you need a hand?’ Judy asked, which she thought was extremely magnanimous of her.

  ‘No thanks.’ Calvin looked at his wife, who was quite clearly half cut. She’d probably make a worse job of the sewing than him, which was quite an achievement. ‘I’ve had enough for tonight. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Judy dragged herself from the chair and stumbled up the stairs. She tiptoed into the bathroom, but in her drunken state this meant she made much more noise than if she’d simply walked as normal. She washed her face and brushed her teeth while glaring at the towel she’d dumped on the floor the previous evening. She wasn’t going to pick it up.

  She was not.

  Calvin didn’t own a pair of pyjamas so Judy made do with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She missed her fleecy penguin pyjamas. They were so cosy and warm and she couldn’t wait until they fit her again.

  ‘So how was your evening?’ Calvin asked once they were both beneath the sheets. ‘Did I miss anything?’

  Judy snuggled herself up against her husband. His new curves were strange but she was in dire need of his warmth. ‘Nothing but a bunch of Neanderthals spouting misogynistic rubbish.’

  ‘Hey, those Neanderthals are my mates.’

  ‘I know. That’s the worst bit.’ Judy snuggled closer into Calvin. ‘Why didn’t you tell me your friend’s wife had had a miscarriage?’

  ‘It’s not my place to go telling people, is it? Richie doesn’t like to talk about it so it hardly seems right me talking to other people about it.’

  ‘Have you tried talking to Richie about it?’

  ‘We’re blokes,’ Calvin scoffed. ‘We don’t talk about that kind of stuff.’

  ‘Maybe you should.’

  Calvin kissed Judy on the forehead. ‘Maybe you should go to sleep. You’ve got a lot of work to do on the Benvenuti campaign tomorrow.’

  ‘Or maybe …’ Judy allowed her hand to roam across Calvin’s bare stomach. He refused to wear the fleecy penguin pyjamas – or any of the nightwear on offer. ‘Do you remember when we used to play pool in the Students’ Union and you used to press yourself up against me? I could feel everything.’

  ‘I know you could,’ Calvin replied. ‘That’s why I did it. But Judy …’ Calvin grabbed hold of Judy’s hand as it made its descent and held it firmly around his waist as he rolled onto his side. ‘We are not doing that. Not with our mixed up bits and pieces. That’d be way too weird.’

  Under normal circumstances, Judy would have been offended at her husband’s rejection. But the man had a point.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  There’s a Rumour Doing the Rounds

  Calvin couldn’t get used to this waking-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn thing. Before the crack of dawn, actually. The village was in complete darkness as he stood in his kitchen, shivering in Judy’s pink dressing gown as the heating hadn’t kicked in yet. His family slept soundly upstairs as he measured and sieved and rubbed flour and butter into every crevice on his fingers. His only company was Miller, who sat watching him from his basket, conveying how much he wanted to go out for a walk through doleful eyes.

  ‘In a minute, buddy. I just need to get these in the oven.’ Calvin dumped a pastry star on top of each mince pie, giving them a quick egg wash before he slipped the first lot into the oven. Miller’s ears pricked up but still Calvin worked, getting started on the next batch. Miller sighed loudly from the basket.

  ‘A few more minutes and then I’ll take you out.’ Calvin checked the time. He was running on schedule. As long as there were no major hiccups, he’d be fine. ‘Miller, noooooooo!’

  Miller, who had vacated his basket and was now squatting in the middle of the kitchen, kept his eyes glued on Calvin’s as his body quivered, his eyes bulging as he curled a turd out on the lino. Calvin was sure the dog’s lips twitched into a grin as it plopped onto the floor. Dropping onto the lino, his hind legs pointing out in front of him
, Miller used his front paws to shuffle himself across the kitchen, wiping his doggy butt on the floor.

  ‘Bad dog!’ Calvin was in a flap as he attempted to scrape the butter-and-flour mixture from his fingers but it was like glue. In the end he wiped his hands on a tea towel before grabbing a dog poop bag and scooping the offending lump off the floor. ‘Outside, now!’ Calvin marched the dog into the back garden, where he dumped the bag in the wheelie bin before returning to the kitchen. After giving his hands – and the kitchen floor – a thorough scrubbing (surely picking up dog shit contravened health and safety rules a million times over), he resumed his baking to the soundtrack of Miller howling outside.

  ‘Can’t you shut the dog up?’ Judy asked as she appeared bleary-eyed in the kitchen doorway. ‘You’ll wake the whole street.’

  ‘He crapped on the floor,’ Calvin explained as he arranged the pastry in the bun tins. ‘He’s out there as punishment.’

  ‘Has he been for a walk yet?’ Judy crossed the kitchen and opened the door. The howling ceased as Miller bounced inside, his tail now wagging joyfully.

  Calvin grabbed the pot of mincemeat and spooned it into the pastry cases. ‘It’s next on my list.’

  Judy tutted. ‘No wonder he had an accident. You need to take him out otherwise he’ll have no choice but to do it on the floor.’ Judy scratched behind the dog’s ears. ‘It isn’t his fault.’

  ‘I know that!’ Calvin grabbed the first batch of mince pies from the oven and placed them on a cooling rack. ‘I don’t need you pecking at me about it.’

  Judy lifted her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, Mr Grumpy.’

  ‘You’d be grumpy too if you’d been up since stupid-o-clock making stupid mince pies and picking up dog mess.’ Calvin flung the pastry stars on the new batch of mince pies. ‘I have a list as long as my arm to get through this morning and that mutt has knocked me right off kilter.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me about long lists and early mornings,’ Judy said. ‘This is my life, remember?’