A Beginner's Guide To Christmas: A festive romantic comedy short story

by Jennifer Joyce

  Lesson 9: Seriously, read the recipe thoroughly before you begin.

  The dough was to be wrapped in cling film and put in the fridge for at least an hour. I didn’t have an hour so I shoved it in the fridge long enough to have a cup of coffee before I tackled the rolling out. I thought this would be the fun bit. I’d always loved playing with play dough and plasticine when I was a kid and this was pretty much the same but with the added bonus of being able to eat it afterwards.

  I was wrong. It was a bloody nightmare with the dough alternating with sticking to the rolling pin and the counter top, and crumbling into tiny unusable bits. I managed to clump together enough to make half a dozen snowmen before I gave up and dumped the rest of the dough in the bin.

  ‘Bastard biscuits,’ I muttered as I nudged the oven door shut and began clearing up. I’d finished washing up and was drying my hands on a tea towel when I heard chaos erupt in the hallway. Stephen was here! Forgetting I was still wearing a butter-encrusted apron, I flung myself into the cramped hallway where my brother, his family and an array of suitcases were squeezed. Stephen, Aubrey and the kids lived in New York so we didn’t get to see them very often. This would be the first Christmas we’d spent together in years. And it was all in my disastrous hands.

  Christmas Is (Unfortunately) All About The Kids – Part I

  Mum made a huge fuss of the grandchildren, which was natural as she usually had to make do with Skype and emails, so seeing them in the flesh was a treat. Dad came down from the loft and tried roping first Stephen and then seven-year-old Austin into helping out.

  ‘They’ve just got off an eight-hour flight and Austin doesn’t want to be cooped up in the loft.’ Mum gave a tut while Dad sulked in his armchair. ‘Besides, I’ve got a very special job for Austin and Riley.’

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ Riley jumped up and down, her blonde curls bouncing around her face. Had she really been on an eight-hour flight? Whenever I flew anywhere, even if it was a two-hour flight to Mallorca, I was comatose for the next day or so.

  ‘Do you see that tree?’ Mum pointed to the bare Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room. ‘It’s your job to decorate it and make it look fabulous. Do you think you can do that?’ Austin and Riley jumped up and down a bit more. ‘Brilliant. Aunty Ruth will help you to reach the branches at the top.’

  What?

  ‘Me? What about Stephen? He’s taller than me.’ And father to the kids. It was his job to entertain them.

  ‘He’s just been on an eight-hour flight. Give him a chance to rest a bit.’

  Lesson 10: After being on an eight-hour flight, you will be absolved of all tasks.

  ‘Fine. Come on then. Let’s get this over with.’

  Lesson 11: Never allow children within twelve feet of a Christmas tree.

  The tree was a shambles. One half was still bare while the other half was cluttered, with one branch containing seven ornaments, courtesy of Riley. It also transpired that Stephen’s youngest, the adorably chubby Ryder, was spawned from the devil himself and decided to make my life hell by pulling over the tree at every opportunity.

  ‘Can’t you stop him?’ I asked Stephen after the millionth time.

  My brother simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’s fifteen months. They’re into everything at that age.’

  I was sure strapping him down to a chair would help but apparently that was a ‘barbaric’ idea.

  ‘Oh, fuck!’ The smell of burning reached my nostrils and I tore into the kitchen, pulling the ruined biscuits out of the oven. They were unsalvageable and no amount of icing could mask the fact that they were burnt to smithereens. Still, at least we’d have some (char)coal to put in the children’s stockings if they misbehaved.

  I returned to the sitting room where I found the tree upturned yet again and three grown up faces glaring at me. Jeez, they were only biscuits and everybody makes mistakes.

  Ryder toddled towards me, gummy grin in place. ‘Fuck!’

  Lesson 12: Christmas or not, you have to be really careful with what you say in front of kids.

  Last-Minute Shopping – Part II

  The tree was righted, I apologised to Stephen and Aubrey – repeatedly – and then Mum gave me a shopping list.

  ‘You’ll have to hurry. The shops will be closing soon.’

  ‘You could have sent Stephen while I was helping the kids with the tree.’

  Mum gasped, actually gasped, the great big drama queen. ‘Your brother has just been on an eight-hour flight. The last thing he needs is to be traipsing around the supermarket.’

  ‘Fine.’ I snatched the list and gave it a glance. Potatoes, sprouts, carrots, parsnips and crackers. I could manage that.

  Stephen stretched and stifled a yawn. ‘Do you think that you could take the kids with you? We could do with a rest for half an hour.’

  Was he taking the piss? ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. The shop will be packed with people who have left it to the last minute.’ I glared at Mum. ‘And you want me to tackle that with three kids in tow?’

  ‘Your brother has been on an eight-hour flight,’ Mum pointed out, as though I didn’t already know.

  ‘They’re really good. They won’t wander off or anything,’ Aubrey piped up, but then she would say that, wouldn’t she? She was desperate to pawn them off on the first available sucker.

  ‘Fine. Whatever.’ I didn’t have the energy to fight.

  Lesson 13: Never ever venture into a supermarket on Christmas Eve.

  Lesson 14: Never ever venture into a supermarket with kids in tow at any time of the year, but especially not at Christmas.

  ‘Aunty Ruth, can I have these?’

  ‘No, Austin. Grandma will have loads of sweets at the house and we’ll be having tea soon.’

  ‘Aunty Ruth, can I have one of these?’

  ‘No, Riley. You’ll be getting loads of presents tomorrow. You don’t need a new doll today.’

  ‘Aunty Ruth, can I have these?’

  ‘No, Austin. I don’t know if you’re allowed bubble gum.’

  ‘Aunty Ruth, can I have this?’

  ‘Really? You want an onion? Ryder, can you stop putting stuff in the trolley please?’

  ‘Aunty –’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can –’

  ‘No. Seriously, Ryder. Stop grabbing things off the shelf.’

  ‘Aunty Ruth, can I have these?’

  ‘No, Riley. You don’t need tampons.’

  ‘But they’re pink.’

  ‘Where did that olive loaf come from?’

  ‘Aunty Ruth?’

  ‘I’ve changed my name.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m deaf.’

  ‘Aunty Deaf?’

  ‘Hey, Ryder. Can you say “Daddy is a big piece of poo”?’

  I was ready for screaming by the time we made it back home. And I mean a good old they’re-going-to-section-me-if-I-don’t-stop-right-now screaming session. How did parents manage this on a regular basis?

  ‘What are these?’ Instead of kissing my feet in gratitude, Mum was inspecting the shopping bags and had pulled out an item, thrusting it at me.

  ‘It’s a packet of crackers.’ Obviously.

  ‘I meant crackers you pull, not a packet of bloody Jacob’s.’

  Lesson 15: Always make sure you know exactly what you’re shopping for, even if you have a list.

  ‘I thought they were for the Boxing Day buffet. To go with cheese.’

  ‘You’ll have to go back.’

  ‘I can’t.’ I’d end up in a strait-jacket if I had to step foot in the supermarket again today. We’d had to queue for forty-five minutes at the checkout (partly because Riley needed a wee and we’d had to join the back of the queue again afterwards). Forty-five minutes trapped with kids is an awfully long time and I never wanted to see the inside of a supermarket again. ‘It’s closed now. They were telling people to pay for their items over the tannoy when we left.’

  ‘Well the
n.’ Mum shoved the packet of crackers in the cupboard. They’d be reduced to dust if she carried on like that. And then what would we have with our cheese? ‘You’ll have to make some. You can’t have Christmas without a cracker to pull and it’ll be a nice activity for the kids. Pop next door and ask Mrs Jeffries if she’s got any toilet roll tubes. I bet she has, she hoards everything.’

  Unfortunately, Mrs Jeffries had a whole carrier bag full of toilet roll tubes (you never know when they’ll come in handy, apparently) so Austin, Riley and I made the crackers with leftover wrapping paper and small items I found around the house as novelty gifts. When we’d finished, Mum helpfully provided us with Christmas colouring books and a pack of felt tips as we were ‘feeling creative’. Ryder managed to toddle over and swipe a felt tip without me noticing and his mouth was bright blue before he was found sucking it under the table.

  ‘Why weren’t you watching him?’ Stephen demanded while Aubrey scrubbed at their son’s tongue with a wet tea towel.

  ‘Why weren’t you watching him? He’s your son.’

  ‘Your brother is supposed to be resting,’ Mum chipped in. ‘He’s been on an eight-hour flight.’

  I wanted to take that eight-hour flight and kick it up its arse.

  Shit! The Presents!

  I was exhausted and flagging before the kids who, despite their infamous eight-hour flight, had bags of energy. They were eventually coaxed into bed after leaving milk and a burnt gingerbread snowman by the fireplace for Santa. The novelty of being in a strange house and country was proving to be too much and they were in and out of bed, giggling on the landing and asking if Santa had been yet for the next hour. Just as they were giving in and settling down to sleep, Gideon finally turned up and chaos ensued with the novelty of a new person to pester. Austin and Riley wanted to meet Gideon and demanded he read them The Night Before Christmas for the third time that evening.

  Yeah, good luck with that, little ones. Gideon was even less interested in kids than I was.

  Two hours later, they finally drifted off to sleep and it wasn’t long before the grown-ups followed.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ I whispered as Gideon and I squeezed into my old childhood bed. The last thing I wanted to do was wake the kids up who were sleeping next door.

  ‘I had to work late.’

  I knew that was a lie. Gideon never worked late, citing it wasn’t in his contract to do so. And he reeked of beer. ‘Never mind. You’re here now.’ Despite the long, tiring day, I cuddled up to Gideon, kissing his collar bone, knowing it would get him in the mood. But Gideon was already snoring.

  Great.

  Turning over, I closed my eyes and was gently drifting off when a thought struck me.

  ‘Shit! The presents!’

  Lesson 16: Do not forget to wrap the presents.

  CHRISTMAS DAY:

  Christmas Is (Unfortunately) All About The Kids – Part II

  It was difficult to explain my relationship with Gideon. We met in the pub and though I wasn’t bowled over by his looks or wit (which I had yet to discover), we somehow ended up together. Gideon was lazy, unreliable and as attentive as a dirty dishcloth but I had never disliked him as much as that night, as I gave him a prod and asked him to help me wrap the neglected presents.

  ‘What’s the point? They’ll only be unwrapped in a few hours.’

  I was about to argue my point but Gideon was already snoring so I left him to it, slipping out of the warm bed and creeping down the stairs. I couldn’t leave the presents unwrapped, the bloody Scrooge, especially not the children’s. Bah Humbug to that idle sod.

  I wrapped the gifts, leaving them under the appallingly decorated tree before creeping back up to bed where The Grinch had snatched all the covers and was still snoring away. I managed to prise an inch of duvet and had clamped my eyes shut for what seemed to be a matter of moments before I was wrenched from sleep by two small bodies bouncing up and down on the bed.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Gideon growled from beneath the covers and for once, I agreed with him.

  ‘Austin, Riley. Go back to bed.’ Please.

  ‘But it’s Chriiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaas!’ Since when had Riley turned into Noddy Holder? ‘Get up, Aunty Ruth. Get up.’

  ‘Yeah, get up Aunty Ruth.’ Austin punctuated his demand with a bounce for each word.

  ‘But it’s only…’ I reached out for my phone to check the time. Jesus. What time? ‘Quarter to six. It’s not morning yet. Go back to bed.’

  ‘But it is morning,’ Riley insisted, tugging at the covers.

  Lesson 17: If there are kids in the house, even if they aren’t yours, put a lock on your bedroom door.

  ‘Riley, Austin. Get out of there.’ Aubrey was in the doorway, squinting eyes trying to throw an apologetic look my way. A wide-awake Ryder was on her hip, gummy grin already in place. ‘I told you not to disturb Aunty Ruth and Uncle Gideon.’

  ‘I’m not their fucking uncle,’ I heard Gideon mumble from beneath the covers. I gave him a kick.

  ‘Come on, let’s go downstairs for breakfast.’ Aubrey motioned for the kids to get off the bed and follow her but they remained where they were, Austin squashing my feet while Riley perched on my bladder.

  ‘I want pancakes and I want Aunty Ruth to make them,’ Riley said.

  No chance, kiddo. Had she not seen yesterday’s charred gingerbread? And it was quarter to six in the morning.

  ‘I’ll make you pancakes.’ Aubrey motioned for the kids to follow her again but they didn’t budge, even when I gave them an encouraging nudge. ‘Downstairs now otherwise I’ll phone Santa and tell him you don’t deserve your gifts.’

  ‘Will he take them back?’ Riley’s bottom lip was trembling as she asked.

  Aubrey hesitated before answering, wavering between getting the children to do what she asked and devastating them. ‘Yes, he’ll take them all back to the North Pole.’ Good girl.

  Austin and Riley leapt from the bed, Riley’s knee giving me one last jab in the bladder before they scarpered.

  Lesson 18: The threat of Santa works wonders. If only it could be used all year round.

  Of course I couldn’t go back to sleep. I could hear the kids downstairs, excited at seeing that Santa had been but whining because they couldn’t touch their presents yet. Plus, thanks to Riley, I needed a wee.

  Mum, Dad and Stephen had joined Aubrey and the children in the kitchen by the time I admitted defeat and trudged down the stairs. Aubrey had made thick, fluffy pancakes for everyone so it was almost worth the early wake up call.

  ‘Should I make some for Gideon?’

  Poor naïve Aubrey. ‘I wouldn’t bother. He probably won’t even be awake for the Queen’s speech.’

  Despite her demand for pancakes, Riley had yet to touch her breakfast, her excitement at Christmas having taken her hunger away. Stephen and Aubrey spent an agonising half an hour trying to coax the kid to eat, offering alternatives to the pancakes, but she refused. I’d have thrown the towel in and let her open the presents – anything to stop the charade – but they were determined and Riley finally ate half a banana. I thought that would be it and the whining could finally cease.

  Poor naïve Ruth.

  ‘One more minute, Riley. I need to set up the camcorder.’ Stephen was rifling through his carry-on case for more batteries while Austin and Riley wailed about their presents. Even Ryder joined in, though he didn’t know what the fuss was all about.

  Lesson 19: Have camcorders/cameras/batteries ready. Don’t dangle the carrot of presents in front of kids and then make them wait. It isn’t fair on the kids – or any bystander’s ears.

  Turkey

  Mum tried to pull the whole ‘eight-hour flight’ crap on me again but I refused to make lunch by myself. Yes, Mum, I was willing to ruin Christmas for the whole family.

  Lesson 20: Just because it’s Christmas, it doesn’t mean you have to take any shit or fall for emotional blackmail.

  So Stephen, Aubrey and I
huddled in the kitchen, trying to decipher Dad’s instructions that Mum had dictated to him.

  ‘Why isn’t Dad in here helping?’ I grumbled as Stephen and Aubrey debated over the oven temperature. ‘It’s his house and I bet he’s a better cook than I am.’

  ‘We’ll be alright.’ Aubrey flashed me an irritatingly encouraging smile. ‘We’ll divide the tasks between the three of us and it won’t seem so daunting then.’

  That was true. And Mum’s sherry was taking the edge off my panic. ‘So what are my jobs then?’

  Aubrey took over the turkey while I was in charge of potatoes and gravy, and Stephen was to manage the vegetables and stuffing. That seemed simple enough and I didn’t have to do anything with the potatoes or gravy yet so I had another drop of sherry and took myself off for a nap.

  Lesson 21: Don’t get too complacent when it comes to Christmas lunch.

  ‘Where’s Stephen?’ My potatoes were doing wonderfully, with one lot roasting in the oven and the other boiling on the stove. I’d returned to the kitchen to turn the roast potatoes and was quite pleased with how golden they looked.

  ‘He had to pop out to find a shop for more batteries.’

  Lesson 22: If you’ve got kids, always have a vast supply of batteries ready for the big day.

  ‘The turkey’s been resting long enough, I think. Are the potatoes nearly ready?’

  I gave the boiling potatoes a prick with a fork and beamed back at Aubrey. ‘Ready. I just need to mash these.’

  Aubrey checked Stephen’s vegetables. ‘Brilliant. This wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  See Lesson 21.

  ‘We’ve done a fantastic job.’ After mashing the potatoes, all I had to do was make the gravy. ‘Oh, balls.’ En route to the potato masher, I spotted an oven dish filled with stuffing balls. Stuffing balls that Stephen had forgotten to put in the oven before swanning off to the shop. ‘Do we have time to cook these?’