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

by Tracy Bloom

  A KIND OF HELL.

  I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING.

  WHY DON’T YOU JOIN ME? YOU WOULD LOVE IT HERE.

  OK.

  WILL SEND ADDRESS.

  Excellent, thought Ben. He could run his genius plan by Braindead and they could stay for lunch. That would kill another couple of hours.

  Twenty minutes later Braindead sauntered in, hands deep in his pockets, eyes gazing around him at the padded cells frequented by delirious children screaming at the tops of their voices.

  ‘Is this what it feels like to be in a boy band?’ he shouted over the din, taking a seat next to Ben on one of the worn, wipe-clean pleather sofas.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘All this screaming… from children. Like being in a boy band?’

  ‘Could be,’ replied Ben. ‘I think it’s just what’s known as being a parent.’

  ‘Right,’ said Braindead, nodding slowly. ‘Listen, they wouldn’t let me pay to get in. Is that right?’

  ‘Yeah. You only pay for kids.’

  ‘Oh. Does that mean I can’t use any of this stuff?’ he said, indicating the inflatable trampoline and the ball pit.

  ‘Not really. Not on your own. You need to have a child with you.’

  ‘Any child?’

  ‘Well, preferably one you know. Or else you might get arrested.’

  ‘Right, right,’ said Braindead, taking off his coat, still looking utterly bewildered.

  ‘Listen, do you fancy some food? I’m just about to order for me and Millie.’

  Braindead took the plastic laminated menu from Ben and looked down the adult options decorated with childlike drawings of common fruits and vegetables. He looked back up at Ben, confused, then looked back down.

  ‘What kind of menu is this?’ he asked when he’d read it for the second time. ‘Salad? Omelette? Quiche?’

  ‘Mum food.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Kids’ hangouts like this don’t do real food. It’s all low-carb, diet crap that women pick to make themselves feel like they’ve been healthy before piling on the mayonnaise and having a full-fat cappuccino for desert. I’ve seen them do it.’

  ‘But where are the burgers?’ exclaimed Braindead, horrified. ‘You were right when you said this was some kind of hell.’

  ‘Only on the kids’ menu. It’s OK to ply the kids with lard as long as you put some salad on the side, which of course they never touch. Their bins must be piled high every night with limp lettuce and cherry tomatoes covered in ketchup.’

  ‘Tell you what, I’ll have two kids’ burger meals,’ said Braindead, putting the menu on a table next to him as though it pained him to look at it any longer.

  Ben stared at him. ‘Sometimes you are an utter genius, Braindead. Why have I been suffering watery ham omelette all this time when I simply should have eaten a double kids’ meal? Save our seat, I’ll go and order. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  By the time Ben got back, Braindead was nowhere to be seen. He looked up at the brightly coloured apparatus and spotted him at the top of the highest slide with Millie. They both waved enthusiastically as Ben felt his heart leap into his mouth. Millie had never gone down that slide before. They launched themselves off simultaneously then landed laughing in a heap at the bottom before Millie dragged him off to do it again. Ben smiled to himself. He’d give him five minutes and then he knew Braindead would be begging Millie to free him from his slide-partner duties. Fifteen minutes later and Millie dumped Braindead for a small boy who dived into the ball pit with her.

  ‘This is brilliant,’ said Braindead, flopping down next to Ben. ‘And it’s free! I’m definitely coming again.’

  ‘Please never come on your own,’ said Ben, handing him a coffee. ‘Coffee tastes shit by the way. But it’s cheap.’

  Braindead took a sip. ‘So where’s Katy?’ he asked.

  ‘Work,’ replied Ben.

  ‘On a Sunday?’

  ‘Apparently the CEO of an Australian budget airline is coming in next week and they need to prepare a pitch for him to try to win the communications account.’

  Braindead stared back at him blankly.

  ‘Crocodile Dundee is coming from Oz and Katy needs to impress him so she keeps her job,’ said Ben helpfully.

  Braindead nodded. ‘Hope he’s not some kind of surfer dude, mate. You know them Aussies, hit your women over the head then carry them off into the outback.’

  ‘I’m sure I have nothing to worry about. He’s more likely to be some old guy who’s been around the clock with leather for skin.’

  Braindead nodded. ‘Fair play. I was hoping Katy would be here though. I wanted to ask her something.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You know, girl stuff.’

  ‘Abby?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You bought a ring yet then?’

  ‘No,’ replied Braindead. ‘You were wrong there, you see. That’s why I wanted to talk to Katy. Not sure I trust you and your in-depth knowledge of the woman’s mind any more.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened? You haven’t split up, have you?’

  ‘No – well, I don’t think so anyway. I’m not sure really. Women are so weird.’

  ‘It’s Christmas, I told you that. Sends them crazy. So what’s happened?’

  ‘So we went for a drink last night. I was driving because Abby wanted to go to The Joiners, you know that pub out in Inkleworth with the—’

  ‘Fairy lights outside and the open fire and the mulled wine on tap,’ interrupted Ben.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

  ‘Festive, you see. Trying to get you in the mood.’

  ‘Anyway so she has a few mulled wines and then she announces out of the blue that she’s thinking of applying for a job in America.’

  ‘Wow, just like that?’

  ‘Yeah, no warning. Nothing.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I can’t remember, to be honest. I think I was a bit in shock. I might have said the weather’s nice over there or something. I didn’t know what to say. What do you make of it?’

  ‘She wants to get engaged,’ said Ben flatly.

  ‘No, she doesn’t. Didn’t you hear me? She wants to move away from me.’

  ‘It’s a threat, Braindead.’

  ‘What do you mean, a threat?’

  ‘What she’s saying is, if you don’t ask me to marry you, I’ll leave the country.’

  ‘If that’s true then why the bloody hell doesn’t she just say she wants to get married?’

  ‘You’ll just have to mind your language,’ warned Ben when two ladies turned to give Braindead a stern stare. ‘Kids present and all that.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologised to the two women. ‘I just don’t fucking understand women.’

  ‘Shush,’ said Ben, as they looked back horrified. ‘So sorry,’ he said to them. ‘My friend is going through a tough time.’ They nodded and turned away.

  ‘Look,’ said Ben, edging closer to him on the sofa. ‘She’s not said she wants to get married because she wants you to surprise her. She wants to see you down on one knee. She wants the full monty, Braindead.’

  ‘I’m not stripping off!’ he interrupted in horror.

  ‘I don’t mean that. She wants it to be your idea, not hers. She wants you to tell her not to go away but to stay here and marry you instead.’

  Braindead stared at Ben, blinking. ‘How do you know all this stuff? You never used to know about this kind of thing.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve been with living with Katy for nearly four years now. I watch a lot of reality TV, you pick things up.’

  ‘So she doesn’t actually want to leave me then?’ Braindead asked.

  ‘No,’ said Ben. ‘Ask Katy if you want but I’m sure. The last thing she wants to do is leave you. What she wants is to stay with you forever.’

  Braindead continued to stare at him then to Ben’s utter amazement a silent tear slid down his cheek before he heaved and fell on to Ben’s shoulder.

/>   ‘I thought she was going to leave me,’ he sobbed while the two women behind them stared. Ben patted his back in shock. In the thirty years he had known him, Ben had never seen him like this. Ever.

  ‘I think you’re ready,’ said Ben, struggling to hold the tears back himself. ‘Merry Christmas, mate.’

  ‘I’m not going to say what time do you call this, but what time do you call this?’ Ben asked when Katy finally walked through the door after ten that evening. ‘You been trying to import kangaroos for this bloke or something?’

  ‘Feels like it,’ said Katy, sinking down on the sofa next to him. ‘I’m so sorry. Andrew didn’t like the initial concepts the creatives presented so I had to rebrief and wait until they’d had another crack at it. We’re getting there though. It will all be over after Wednesday and normal service will be resumed. Promise.’ She bent over and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘So what kind of day have you had? Did you go to soft play?’

  ‘Oh yes, a new all-time record. Four hours we managed. Dropped a fortune at the café obviously, but Millie thought it was Christmas staying all that time.’

  ‘I bet she did. You must have been bored out of your skull. I’m so sorry. Promise I’ll take her next week. You go off and do something.’

  ‘It was OK actually. Braindead came over.’

  ‘To soft play?’

  ‘Yeah, couldn’t get him off the big slide.’

  ‘I bet!’ Katy laughed, kicking her shoes off and leaning her head on Ben’s shoulder.

  ‘He’s getting married, by the way.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Katy, sitting bolt upright. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Well, he hasn’t asked Abby yet but he’s going to.’

  ‘Are you serious? I never ever thought Braindead would be the type to get married.’

  ‘Neither did he until today.’

  ‘What do you mean? What happened today?’

  ‘Well I think I should take some credit. I pointed out to him last week that there was no way he was getting away with a third Christmas without it resulting in a proposal and then he turns up today saying Abby’s threatening to apply for a job abroad.’

  ‘Really?’ said Katy. ‘Doesn’t sound like Abby.’

  ‘Exactly. She’d no more move away from within spitting distance of the make-up counter at Boots than I would from Elland Road.’

  ‘Your football team is the main reason why you’d stay living in the UK?’

  ‘That and warm beer and Match of the Day. Abby doesn’t want a job overseas. It’s a threat, I told him that. Put a ring on it or she’s off. Probably not abroad, but it’ll be the end of them.’

  ‘Blimey.’ Katy sighed, sinking back down on the sofa and putting her head back on his shoulder. ‘And you think Braindead wants to propose then?’

  ‘You know Braindead. He takes longer to process these things than most people, but he’s getting his head round it. It’s dawned on him that he doesn’t want to be apart from her. He actually got really upset about it. I was about to mention the “L” word but I thought I’d save that until next time. Lead him there gently.’

  ‘He’ll think you mean lesbians.’

  ‘Of course he will,’ agreed Ben. ‘I’m sure he’d much rather talk lesbians than love, but I’ll get him there, slowly but surely. I’ll have him engaged by Christmas if it kills me.’

  ‘Oh, how romantic!’ Katy sighed. ‘A Christmas engagement.’

  ‘Bit better than mine, eh?’ said Ben. ‘Eleventh-hour proposal in the labour ward. I didn’t even have a ring, just a banana.’

  ‘It was the most romantic banana anyone has ever given me,’ she said, flinging an arm over him. ‘I will never forget it. It was perfect.’

  It so wasn’t, thought Ben. ‘I want to make sure Braindead does it right, you know, seeing as our engagement was… well, not the blissful moment it should have been.’

  Ben felt a knot form in his stomach as he remembered his last-minute dash to the hospital to claim his daughter and his future bride. Finding out about her one-night stand with Matthew had sent him off in a sulk until he came to his senses, stormed the labour ward and booted Matthew out. Ben often thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t got there in time; if he hadn’t proved his love for Katy and watched his daughter being born. How he would have regretted that. How glad he was that he’d proposed and been there to greet Millie into the world – he just wished it had happened in a different way. The next time he was in a labour ward he intended the experience to be poles apart.

  ‘So, er, how about we, er, go upstairs to bed,’ he said, feeling himself blush. ‘Carry on what your mum interrupted the other night,’ he added. ‘You know, that baby-making business.’

  He waited for Katy to answer. She didn’t.

  ‘Shall we go to bed and have sex?’ he asked, losing patience.

  But Katy still didn’t reply. Instead he heard the faintest snore as her arm fell unconsciously off his chest and on to the sofa.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘I should be in by ten, Ian,’ Matthew said into thin air as he sat in his car and indicated right. ‘Sorry, something urgent came up,’ he added, glancing over at Alison, who didn’t acknowledge the slight sarcasm in his tone.

  Ian’s voice crackled into the car from the speaker connected to Matthew’s mobile. ‘No worries, mate,’ he said. ‘I can cope with the splendid Lorraine from Splencor until you get in. In fact, it will be my pleasure.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ replied Matthew. ‘Remember you’re there to discuss their depreciation plan, won’t you, and not to chat her up.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll show her some depreciation. Some real depreciation.’

  Matthew could sense Alison bristling in the seat next to him.

  ‘In fact I thought I might ask her to the Christmas do. What do you reckon? Do you think we’re allowed to invite clients? Good corporate relations surely?’

  ‘There is no way Lorraine would come with you to our Christmas do.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because she’s not blind. Because she has taste. Because she’ll have far better invites this Christmas than coming to her tax consultants’ Christmas party at Christmas Party Land.’

  ‘But what if I tell her about the Zulu Sundance thingy theme?’

  ‘She definitely won’t come then.’

  ‘So who am I going to bring then? I can’t come on my own, can I? I’ll look like a proper loser.’

  ‘Surely you can find a date on one of the umpteen websites you’re on.’

  Alison was tapping her fingers on her baby bump now. Matthew knew she didn’t approve of Ian, his colleague for donkey’s years, but she did tolerate him – as long as he kept Ian out of her way as much as possible. He suspected this was way more contact than she would like.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘All the women on there are of a temporary nature. You know, the kind of women you don’t want to give any permanent encouragement to. Not the kind of women you’d introduce your colleagues to. Not the kind of women you’d want to be in public with.’

  Alison turned to stare in disgust at Matthew.

  ‘Doesn’t Alison know any MILFs?’ was the next comment that came crackling over the airwaves. Matthew saw Alison’s jaw drop open out the corner of his eye.

  ‘Alison is in the car with me now,’ stated Matthew.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ian. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise. I’ll ask her myself then. Do you know any MILFs, Alison?’

  Matthew hastily turned the air conditioning up to avoid Alison overheating.

  ‘Or MILs for that matter,’ added Ian. ‘Anyone presentable would do.’

  ‘If you so much as go near any of my friends, Ian, I will castrate you,’ was Alison’s reply.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘No harm in asking.’

  ‘Did you get my email with the new figures in it?’ asked Matthew, keen to change the subject. While Matthew found Ian’s love life at forty-plus
entertaining, he could fully understand how Alison would not.

  ‘They’re in front of me now,’ said Ian. ‘I’ll slot them into the document before Lorraine gets here.’

  ‘If she’s still there when I get back I’ll put my head round the door,’ said Matthew.

  ‘You going for a check-up?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tour of the labour ward then? Surely you know your way around there by now? Got your own room yet?’

  ‘Bye, Ian,’ said Matthew pressing his finger on the end-call button.

  ‘Hello,’ said a lady in her fifties coming towards them as they waited on two tiny chairs in a corridor full of photos of angelic-looking children beaming back at them. ‘You must be Mr and Mrs Chesterman. I’m Mrs Allcock.’

  ‘Oh Alison and Matthew please,’ purred Alison, getting up to shake her hand.

  ‘Hi.’ Matthew nodded briskly. He couldn’t even be bothered to smirk at her name. He was hoping to set the tone for the entire tour – short, to the point, conclusive. He really didn’t have time for this. They followed Mrs Allcock down a corridor that smelt of disinfectant and learning into the preschool room. A riot of primary colours and terrible artwork greeted them. Rectangles of brightly coloured card stapled on to walls displaying wedges and drips of paint as a multitude of children concluded the more the better. Unidentifiable flying objects hung from the ceiling, causing Matthew to duck as he came in close contact with a one-eyed… thing. Letters and numbers dazzled from every corner as though trying to sink into the children’s minds through pure osmosis.

  Mrs Allcock took them on a slow and tedious tour around the large room as Alison peppered her with question after question regarding their curriculum and policies. He didn’t know why she was bothering. They were three. Surely all that mattered was that they came here and had a good time and found some mates. Before any real work started in proper school.

  Matthew tried to zone out, distracting himself with writing a mental to-do list for all he had to get done before the year-end. Occasionally he would be called upon for input, at which point he would pretend to have been closely studying a piece of work on the wall and be forced to ask them to repeat the question.