No-one Ever Has Sex on Christmas Day: The most hilarious romantic comedy you'll read this Christmas

by Tracy Bloom

  No-one Ever Has Sex On Christmas Day

  The most hilarious romantic comedy you’ll read this Christmas

  Tracy Bloom

  For Tom and Sally

  Wishing you both many, many great Christmases, and I hope your dad and I never screw it up for you!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Also by Tracy Bloom

  A Letter From Tracy

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  ‘Tell me there isn’t an enormous inflatable reindeer on the front lawn,’ said Katy as she walked into the kitchen and dumped her laptop carrier on the floor.

  ‘There isn’t a five-foot-high inflatable reindeer on the front lawn,’ replied Ben without looking up from rifling through a clutch of plastic bags on the table.

  Katy turned and left the room to go and check out the glowing backside of the wobbling reindeer leering at her through the lounge window. She went back into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, praying that Ben had pre-empted her need for a Friday night, long-week-at-work glass of wine. He had. It didn’t look like the sort they usually drank, but she didn’t care. She needed alcohol if she was to be enthusiastic about being greeted by an inflatable grinning Rudolph ogling her from the darkness.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Ben asked, looking up.

  She gulped the wine and screwed her face up. It didn’t taste good at all.

  ‘I love it,’ she lied. ‘I just wasn’t expecting to come home to something so big!’

  ‘And what about Santa on the roof? Is that too much, do you think?’

  ‘What Santa?’

  ‘Santa on the roof. Didn’t you see it? It’s taken me all afternoon.’

  Katy took another gulp of wine then went outside again to inspect what further festive carnage Ben had inflicted on their home.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Ben, coming up behind her. ‘What happened? You’re supposed to see Santa on the chimney next to a flashing Merry Christmas. Perhaps the fuse has gone.’ He headed back into the house, disappearing to a place Katy knew she would never understand nor want to understand.

  ‘Have they come back on yet?’ he shouted from the cupboard under the stairs twenty minutes later. Katy got up out of the kitchen chair, where she had managed to get past her dislike of the wine and drink the whole glass. Outside, the Santa remained in bleak darkness, and she returned with the news to a crestfallen Ben.

  ‘I’ll have to get someone round tomorrow to help me sort it out,’ he said. ‘It can’t have overloaded the system already. I’ve got a load more to go up yet.’

  ‘What do you mean more?’ said Katy, pouring herself another glass of disgusting wine.

  ‘Of course there’s more. It’s Christmas!’

  ‘But… but…’ She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to burst his festive bubble. She loved the fact that Ben had a childlike level of enthusiasm about decorating their new home for Christmas. It must be the eight-year age gap between the two of them that made him so much more excitable about these things, she thought. It was just a shame that their taste levels were somewhat different. Katy would have gone for a minimal look, probably consisting of white-only sparkling lights, whereas Ben’s creation looked set to rival a Las Vegas casino.

  ‘Can we afford all this?’ she asked. ‘I thought we were supposed to be on a budget now that we’ve moved house?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. It was all dead cheap. I got it from that discount warehouse place in town. I got all this stuff too – look, cost virtually nothing.’

  Katy watched as Ben started to pull out reams of cheap shiny paraphernalia from the carrier bags on the table.

  ‘One hundred baubles for less than a Starbucks coffee,’ he proudly showed her.

  Katy thought about the gorgeous Harvey Nichols’ pack of a dozen tree ornaments she’d bought a few years ago that had cost more than her party dress.

  ‘And a sign. Every house needs a sign.’ A cheeky elf now grinned back at her, holding a flag, which read ‘Santa, Please Stop Here’. ‘We’ve never had a sign before, have we? Not in the flat. You need a garden for a sign and now we have a garden.’

  Katy nodded. It had taken a while. Nearly three years of looking and saving and sales falling through until Katy’s promotion and subsequent pay rise had allowed them to think bigger and better. They had finally secured their dream home of a delightful house in a leafy suburb of Leeds, with a garden where you could put a sign up for Santa. Katy wasn’t sure whether the sign was for Ben’s benefit or their three-year-old daughter, Millie.

  ‘Aaaaaaaaand,’ continued Ben, ‘the best Christmas bargain of all time…’ Katy closed her eyes – she didn’t dare look. ‘Not one, not two, not three, but four chocolate advent calendars all for the knock-down price of just one pound.’

  ‘A pound!’

  ‘Yeah, four for a pound! What a find.’

  Katy thought she might vomit.

  ‘You don’t look impressed,’ said Ben, frowning.

  ‘Can you imagine how bad that chocolate is going to taste if they’re selling four for a pound?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘It’s not really about the chocolate, is it? It’s about opening the door.’

  Katy looked at Ben in shock. ‘I thought you understood kids… and women for that matter. It’s always about the chocolate! Or to be more precise, it’s always about the chocolate and the once-a-year opportunity to be allowed to eat it at 7 a.m.’

  Ben looked down, frowning at the four calendars. Katy wondered if it was the right time to tell him she already had a Lindt calendar stashed away in the back of a cupboard, along with a Star Wars one for him and a My Little Pony one for Millie.

  ‘It might taste all right,’ he said dejectedly. ‘I mean, you’re drinking the wine I got there. That must taste great given how quick you’re downing it.’

  ‘What!’ gasped Katy, almost spitting out her latest mouthful. ‘This is from the discount warehouse? No wonder it tastes terrible.’

  ‘Why are you drinking it then? I tried it earlier and had to chuck it away. I have to say I’m impressed at how hardcore you are, necking that stuff. Tastes like paint stripper.’

  ‘You could have warned me.’

  ‘Funnier to watch you screwing your nose up! You sure you’re not an alcoholic?’

  ‘You’re enough to drive me to becoming one,’ she said, getting up and chucking the rest of it away.

  ‘You couldn’t live without me and you know that,’ he said, laughing to himself.

  ‘What have I done to deserve you?’ She walked over and put her arms around him. She knew she must have done something really good at some point. She dreaded to think what
her life would be like if she hadn’t met Ben. She wouldn’t have Millie for a start – their funny, brilliant, gorgeous daughter. And she wouldn’t have her career. It had been Ben’s idea for Katy to go back to the job she loved in advertising while he stayed at home to look after Millie. Sure, it had made sense, as she earned a lot more than he could as a secondary school PE teacher but even so, it took a special kind of man to swap traditional roles like that. He was back at work now, working at Millie’s preschool as a teaching assistant. He said he enjoyed it, but it was still a compromise, Katy knew. It made everyone’s life easier that he had hours that fitted in with Millie, even if it wasn’t the most exciting job in the world. Still, her compromise was that she worked long hours in order to keep them in the lifestyle they were accustomed to. It worked both ways, she figured.

  ‘I’m so excited about our first Christmas in this house,’ said Ben, folding his arms round her shoulders. ‘It’s going to be so brilliant. I mean, we couldn’t have had a reindeer that size on the balcony at the flat, could we?’

  She grinned. He wasn’t wrong. Let him have as many reindeers on the lawn as he wanted. Katy wanted Ben to enjoy their new house as much as she did. She might have been paying the mortgage, but he was bringing up their child. They both deserved it.

  ‘I love it here,’ said Ben, looking down at her. ‘I’m half-expecting someone to come and rip it all away from us, it’s so great.’

  ‘Of course they won’t, silly,’ said Katy. ‘We’ve earned this,’ she added, casting her eyes round the room.

  ‘And…’ continued Ben, barely listening, he was so full of excitement and emotion, ‘we even have a chimney. I have never spent Christmas in a house with a chimney – do you know that? And now we have a Santa on the chimney that lights up. Well, it will… one day.’

  ‘I’m glad that a chimney has made your Christmas,’ said Katy, allowing her head to rest on his chest. He smelt of oranges and cinnamon. ‘Did you buy Christmas potpourri?’ she asked.

  ‘Is that what it is?’ said Ben. ‘It was free with a box of crackers. I thought you must put it on the fire or something.’ Katy buried her head in his chest, not trusting herself to comment. ‘Speaking of which, come and take a look at this.’ He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the kitchen and the hall and into the lounge. She gasped as she walked in. ‘Me and the Millster did it,’ said Ben, squeezing her hand. ‘Well, I did the fire, of course. Can’t have a three-year-old handling matches, can we?’ He laughed, and Katy knew that he had most definitely allowed Millie to play with the matches.

  There were no lights on in the room, just a warm yellow glow coming from the roaring fire in the grate and the sparkle of tiny white fairy lights strung across the ornate mantelpiece. It was magical. It was the reason why she had fallen in love with the house. It was everything their designer flat in the centre of the city wasn’t – it had character, it was quirky, and it had plaster ceiling roses for goodness’ sake. It was a home. More than that, it was a family home. The flat had suited her well in her single days, but Ben moving in and then the arrival of Millie had made it a squeeze. They’d been more than ready to relinquish the convenience of bars and restaurants within spitting distance for the quieter pace of the suburbs. It had taken a while to find this house, but this was why it had been worth the wait: the perfect Christmas tableau right before her eyes.

  ‘Millie put us all a stocking up,’ Ben pointed out.

  Katy looked at each of the three bright red stockings pinned to the mantelpiece, despite the fact it wasn’t even December yet.

  ‘I told her it was too early,’ said Ben, ‘but she insisted. She so takes after you.’

  ‘Well-organised?’

  ‘Bloody stubborn! She even made me put a carrot out for Rudolph – look. Apparently he visits the really good kids early. If I take it away she’ll think he’s been and not left her anything, but if I leave it she’ll think she’s not one of the good kids. What do I do about that? More lies I’ll have to think up and remember. Christmas is packed full of lies, have you noticed? I think I’m going to have to keep a Christmas lies diary just to keep track of myself.’

  ‘What if she finds the diary?’

  ‘Christ, what was I thinking? You’re right.’

  ‘She can’t read, Ben.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, tilting his head to one side. ‘Panic over.’

  ‘I love it,’ Katy told him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The fire, the lights, the stockings… it’s beautiful.’

  ‘We have another stocking,’ said Ben, picking a spare one up from off the back of the settee.

  ‘Was it four for a pound?’

  ‘No, ten pounds actually. Me and Millie came to a decision that stockings were a sound investment for years to come and so splashed out a little and well… maybe… you know… next year we might need four stockings to go above the fireplace?’

  Katy turned sharply to look at him.

  ‘Because we said, didn’t we, that once we moved, we’d get on it.’ He looked serious for a moment. A rare occurrence. ‘Start trying for another one, now we’ve got the room?’

  Katy said nothing, just gazed at the extra stocking. They’d been so busy, what with the move and work being crazy as usual, she hadn’t been thinking about extending their family. Ben hadn’t said anything for ages either so she half-thought he’d gone off the idea. Understandable. Being a stay-at-home parent is enough to put anyone off kids. But clearly it had been on his mind, even if he hadn’t talked about it. He’d been waiting for his moment; he’d bought the stocking.

  ‘And you are getting on a bit,’ he added. ‘We need to get a shift on or else you’ll be past it.’

  ‘Oh, thanks a bunch!’ she said, punching him in the arm. It was true; her clock was ticking faster by the minute. She’d turned forty that year so she was already leaving it late. Plenty of time for Ben of course, but maybe that’s what you got when you married a younger man – a constant reminder that your body will start to wear out way before his would.

  ‘And it would be nice to, you know, plan it this time. Have the full getting-pregnant experience,’ he said, shrugging.

  He said it as casually as if he’d missed the trailers before watching a movie, but Katy knew exactly what he meant. He may have sounded flippant, but he was gently reminding her of what she’d denied him when she got pregnant with Millie. Her pregnancy had come unplanned and early in their relationship. A shock to both of them – and on top of that it had taken some time to dispel confusion over who might be the father, as Katy had had a misguided and much regretted one-night stand with a childhood sweetheart around the time of conception. Fortunately they had got past it, and there was no disputing the fact that Millie’s auburn locks were directly descended from Ben’s ginger mop. Katy’s first pregnancy had not been a time of joy and harmony, and she still felt guilty about what she’d put Ben through to this day. She looked down at the fourth stocking, absent-mindedly stroking it.

  ‘Why don’t we start practising now?’ said Ben gently. ‘Millie’s fast asleep, and I bought scented candles. They normally get you going.’

  ‘Four for a pound?’ asked Katy, smiling.

  He nodded. ‘Norway Spruce flavoured.’

  She smiled again. The cheap wine had made her feel light-headed, so she allowed herself to be led across the lounge towards the stairs.

  She’d just put her left foot on the bottom step when the phone rang.

  Chapter Two

  Ben gripped Katy’s hand hard. They both paused on the stairs, neither saying a word as the phone continued to ring insistently. Ben prayed it didn’t wake Millie. He was about to have sex with his wife, Millie demanding another read of The Tiger Who Came to Tea would crush any man’s libido. The ringing stopped, and he heaved a sigh of relief until the answerphone kicked in. He glanced at Katy as they both stood frozen on the stairs, fearing any movement would spark the collapse of their entire evening.

  ‘Hel
lo, peeps. You are through to Ben, Katy and Millie. Say hello, Millie.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘We are currently partaking in a killer dolls’ tea party, so please leave us a message so we can forget to call you back. Bye.’

  Katy suppressed a giggle.

  ‘Hi, love, are you there?’ came a woman’s voice immediately recognisable as Katy’s mum.

  ‘Of course we aren’t here,’ hissed Ben. ‘Or else we would answer the bloody phone.’

  ‘But we are here,’ hissed back Katy.

  Oh yeah, thought Ben. But he wasn’t worried. Katy and her mum weren’t that close. Rita lived in Spain, and usually Katy avoided speaking to her if she could, so there was no chance of her disrupting their ongoing journey to the bedroom.

  ‘I really need to speak to you, Katy. Could you call me back as soon as you can? Unless your dad has already called you. I guess he might have done, but I need to give you my side of the story. He’ll have blamed it all on me – I know he will – but he needs to take some responsibility. As I keep telling him, you don’t walk out on over forty years of marriage for no…’

  ‘Hello, Mum. Mum, it’s me. What’s happened? What are you talking about?’ Katy had lunged for the phone and had already slid to the floor, clutching the receiver. Ben knew the night wasn’t going to go quite as he’d hoped.

  He wandered back down the hall and into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He picked himself a cold beer from the fridge then went into the lounge and slumped down on the sofa. He turned on the TV and found some football, resting his head on the spare Christmas stocking left on the sofa arm.