Chapter Two:
Frostie the Snowman Forgot
Perry was fuming. Calvin had never seen a face quite so puce as his boss stalked up and down the office, firing off expletive after expletive, practically foaming at the mouth as his rage spilled forth. His head was going to explode, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing apart from the mess it would create on the walls of B&R Marketing. Maybe Calvin would get splattered and then he’d have to listen to Judy go on at him about the stains on his shirt. At least he wasn’t wearing his favourite grey tie, Calvin supposed. He didn’t mind if the horrible lime green one was ruined with his boss’s brain matter.
‘Are you all frankincense stupid or something?’
Perry hadn’t really used the word frankincense, but Calvin was passing the time by replacing the swear words with those associated with Christmas. It made the experience a tad more pleasant – as long as you ignored the spittle flying across the office as Perry went about his business of giving his employees an almighty ticking off.
‘What kind of idiots do I have working for me? You’re all a bunch of figgy pudding chestnuts. I should fire the whole baubles lot of you, you incompetent donkeys.’ ‘Donkeys’ could have been an actual insult for Perry to use, but the one Calvin had replaced was marginally more insulting. ‘Whose job was it to book the photo shoot?’ Perry’s eyes shone as they ran across each employee, seeking out the weakest member of his team. The one who had well and truly dropped the ball on this project. ‘Which advent am I going to sack?’
‘Sack?’ Everyone in the office had been silent up until this point (they’d long ago figured this was the best way to deal with Perry’s rages) but now a voice squeaked from the back of the office. ‘But it’s December.’
It was Sarah who had spoken out. She was relatively new to the B&R Marketing office and wasn’t familiar with all the rules yet. You didn’t take stationery from the cupboard without permission from Perry first (which was sometimes only granted after a full-on grovelling session. Pens were precious in the B&R office, according to their tight-fisted boss). You didn’t take the last biscuit out of the tin in the kitchen unless you wanted an ear-chewing from Overlord Perry and you never, ever spoke out during one of his tirades. To do so would only put you in the firing line and prolong the agony for everybody else.
Poor Sarah.
‘I don’t give a flying fa la la la la what month of the year it is.’ Perry gave a hoot. ‘Are you referring to Christmas? Do you actually think I give a rat’s antlers about Christmas?’ Perry marched towards the back of the office, where Sarah was quivering in her chair. ‘Christmas means more business. Profits!’ Spit flew through the air, landing on Sarah’s cheek. She didn’t dare move to wipe it away. ‘It doesn’t mean I’ll turn into a soft Tiny Tim just because you lot stick up a bit of tinsel.’ ‘Tinsel’ was Perry’s own word this time. He flailed his arms around to indicate the sparkly stuff attempting to add cheer to the grim office. ‘Don’t think I won’t sack the lot of you at Christmas because I will if I have to. You French-henned this project up and I want to know why and, more importantly, who.’
He glared at his employees, turning full circle so that nobody was left out. His nostrils were flared as he attempted to sniff out the weak link.
‘Well?’ The fact that he had failed to sniff out the culprit was making a vein throb in his temple. It grew larger as he turned to examine his staff yet again and the offender remained hidden. ‘May I remind you how much work we’ve got on over the next few weeks? Francesco Benvenuti is coming into this office next week. Francesco. Benvenuti. Do you realise how much money that dude will bring to this company? I cannot allow any of you to fairy lights this campaign up!’
Perry stormed out of the office, his fury continuing for the remainder of the day, though thankfully he took it into the solitude of his own office once it became clear that nobody was actually going to be man enough to own up to messing up the campaign. Although he’d threatened to sack the lot of them, it wasn’t really plausible, so he’d stormed into his office to seethe and plot for the rest of the day.
‘Perry should expect the arrival of three ghosts this Christmas,’ Sarah said as they packed up at the end of the day. Perry had moments earlier popped his head through the door to tell them they should all ‘frost off home’ and ‘thank themselves festive lucky that they still had their Father Christmas jobs’. Calvin was running out of Christmas-themed F words.
‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ Sarah paused by Calvin’s desk and lowered her voice. ‘And thanks for not landing me in it. I thought I’d booked that photo shoot weeks ago.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It was a mistake.’ Calvin thought of the blackened mince pies from that morning. ‘We all make them.’
With his computer shut down for the evening, Calvin made his way down to the car park and climbed into his car. He had an hour’s commute from B&R Marketing’s city centre office to his home in Hartfield Hill. He knew how much Judy loved the village but it was a pain in the artificial Christmas tree (Calvin must stop doing that now) getting to and from work during rush hour. It was half past six by the time he pulled up outside the house, the evening already well and truly underway. Judy and the children would have already eaten, meaning he’d have to sit in the kitchen by himself yet again. Calvin opened the oven but it was empty. Probably punishment for the mince pies, which were still sitting accusingly on the side – he was evidently not out of the doghouse then. Never mind. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. He’d grab something later.
‘Where have you been?’ Judy was sitting on the bed when Calvin went upstairs to change, her face twisted and strangely resembling that of Perry’s earlier. Great. Just what Calvin needed. He’d already had a bollocking from his boss – he didn’t need another from his wife.
‘I’ve been at work. Where do you think?’ Calvin opened the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans and a hooded top.
‘You’re late.’
‘I know.’ It was all right for Judy. She only worked a few streets away. If she ran, she could be home from work in two minutes. Not everybody had it so easy. ‘Traffic was terrible. It always is at this time of year.’
‘And you really couldn’t have got here any earlier?’
Calvin held in a sigh. No, he really couldn’t have unless he had the ability to sprout wings and fly home. Which he didn’t. ‘Is this about the mince pies? I said sorry.’
‘You didn’t, actually,’ Judy muttered. Calvin chose not to hear and instead changed out of his work clothes (which Judy snatched off the floor where they fell before dumping them forcefully into the laundry basket) and into more comfortable attire. Sometimes it felt like he was wearing a noose to work instead of a tie.
‘I’m sorry, okay? About the mince pies and being late and everything.’ Over the years, Calvin had come to the realisation that it was easier to apologise, even for the things out of his control. ‘I’ll see you later. I won’t be late.’ He stooped to kiss Judy goodbye but she put out a hand to stop him.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To the pub.’ It was Friday. He always went to the pub with the lads on a Friday to unwind after a stressful week at the office. It was the only thing that got him through the week at times.
‘But we’re going to my parents’.’ Judy folded her arms across her chest, her eyebrows raising a fraction in challenge. ‘It’s been planned for weeks. It’s the last chance we’ll get to see them before Christmas. They’re spending Christmas and New Year with my sister.’
‘Your sister only lives down the road from your mum and dad.’
Judy’s eyebrows rose further, no longer a challenge but a threat. ‘She moved to Edinburgh. Eight months ago.’
Yes, Calvin remembered now. They’d helped pack up the house and Judy had cried for a week.
‘I forgot.’
‘You forget a lot of things.’ Judy let that statement hang in the air for a moment before she continued. ‘Anyway,
we planned to go to Mum and Dad’s tonight. It’s been on the calendar for weeks and they’re expecting us.’ They’d been expecting them over an hour ago but Judy forced her lips to close tight. For a millisecond. ‘You promised to be home early so we could go.’
‘But it’s Friday night. It’s the only night out I get.’
Judy threw back her head and barked with laughter. ‘Are you taking the piper’s piping?’ Calvin really couldn’t help replacing the obscenities. It had become a habit. ‘You go out on Monday and Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings!’
‘But that’s to play pool and football.’ He couldn’t let his teams down, could he? ‘Friday night is the only chance I get to relax.’
Judy looked at him. She looked at him some more. Too angry to speak, she stalked out of the room.
‘Does this mean I still have to go tonight?’ Calvin called after her.
‘YES!’
Chapter Three:
Two Parents A-Rowing and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
Judy and Calvin thought it was best if they didn’t communicate for a while, so the journey to Judy’s parents’ was strained as they each did their best to ignore the other. Calvin turned away from his wife as best he could while confined to the passenger seat of the car and tethered to his seat by his belt, staring out of his window while Judy put on her very best everything-is-fine-kids voice as she chatted away to them. Not that the children noticed the tension between their parents. Scott was engrossed with his phone while Charlie was chattering away non-stop about the importance of shepherds.
‘What do you think, Daddy?’
‘About what?’ Calvin dragged his gaze away from the window and looked at his daughter through the gap between the seats.
‘About shepherds.’
‘Oh.’ Calvin shifted into a more comfortable position. ‘It must be a pretty boring job, mustn’t it? And cold and wet. Who would want to be stuck out in a field all day with nothing but sheep for company? It’s a rubbish job if you ask me.’
‘Da-ad!’ Charlie’s bottom lip started to tremble and her brown eyes pooled with tears.
‘Charlie is playing a shepherd in the school nativity next week,’ Judy hissed.
Oh, candy canes. ‘I was only kidding, Charlie-Chalk.’ Calvin laughed, to show what a silly, jovial mood he was in. ‘Being a shepherd is one of the most important jobs there is. What would we do without shepherds? There’d be sheep running around everywhere, wouldn’t there?’
Charlie nodded, eyes dry again. ‘And they’d poop everywhere, wouldn’t they, Daddy?’
‘Everywhere. Imagine the smell.’
Charlie giggled, her father completely forgiven for his mishap.
‘You did book the time off work, didn’t you?’ Judy asked, ruining the mood. ‘It’s been on the calendar since last month.’
‘Yes, yes, of course I’ve booked the time off work.’ How could Calvin forget when Judy had been chewing his ear off about it for weeks? He turned back towards the window, spending the rest of the journey counting fairy light-framed windows and lit-up Santas along the way.
‘I’m so sorry we’re late.’ Judy hugged her mother when they arrived, trying to convey through body language alone that it was all Calvin’s fault. ‘I hope tea isn’t ruined.’
‘Of course not. No harm done.’ Susan led the family straight through to the dining room where everybody squeezed around the table. ‘I’ve made an early Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. I know it’s not the same as spending the actual day together but it’s the next best thing. I’ve even bought crackers!’
‘Mum says you and Grandpa can’t come to my nativity play.’ Charlie’s wobbly lip was back as she spoke to her grandmother.
‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ Susan stroked Charlie’s curly brown hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. ‘We’ll be away. But maybe your daddy can film it and we can all watch it together when we get back in the New Year. Would you like that?’
‘Can we have popcorn?’
‘Of course.’
‘And ice cream?’
‘Don’t push it,’ Judy said and Charlie reluctantly backed down, fearful that she’d lose the popcorn she’d already bagged if she persisted. ‘Do you need a hand with anything, Mum?’
‘No, thank you. Everything’s under control.’ Susan went through to the kitchen and when she returned she brought with her the festive smells of a good, old-fashioned festive feast. Calvin’s stomach rumbled and he temporarily forgot about the lads and the pint he’d sacrificed for family harmony. The evening’s misdemeanours seemed to be forgotten as the family ate and chatted and pulled crackers with naff jokes and even naffer prizes.
‘Have you told Grandma and Grandad about your band?’ Judy asked Scott.
The tips of Scott’s ears turned pink, glowing brightly against the yellow paper crown he was wearing. ‘We’re playing our first gig on Sunday. They’re switching on the village lights and we’re allowed to play three songs.’
‘Three songs? Wow. You’ll soon be a superstar.’ Susan smiled encouragingly at her grandson before turning to Judy. ‘They’ve left the lights until the last minute, haven’t they?’
‘They were supposed to be switched on at the beginning of December,’ Judy explained. ‘But vandals nicked the bulbs from the tree and they’ve only just been replaced.’
Susan gave a tut. ‘Is nothing safe these days? Bulbs!’
‘So what songs will you be playing?’ Scott’s grandfather asked. Bernard had been in a band himself in his youth, though it had been the church’s brass band and probably not quite in the same league as his grandson’s.
‘We’re playing a couple of Christmas songs. But, like, really cool ones. And then we’re playing a song I wrote with the drummer.’
‘Very impressive. It’s a shame your Grandma and I will miss it.’
‘At least Dad will be there this time.’ Scott couldn’t quite bring himself to forgive his father for missing his first football match for the Woodgate Juniors. Months had passed but it still stung.
‘I only missed one football match.’ Calvin had been caught up with work and he’d made sure he’d been at every one since.
‘You missed all of my basketball games.’
‘You gave up after three.’
‘And you missed my awards ceremony at school.’ Scott believed this was now his trump card for life. Whenever he wanted something, he could always bring out the awards ceremony card to get his way.
‘I had a very important meeting at work.’
‘Yeah, because everything’s more important than us.’ Scott scraped back his chair, excusing himself with the pretence of needing the loo.
‘What’s up with him?’ Calvin asked, watching as his son disappeared from the room with slumped shoulders.
‘Think about it, Calvin,’ Judy said.
Think about what? That his son had turned into a moody teenager? That was hardly his fault, was it?
Calvin sulked – in Judy’s opinion – for the remainder of the evening, sitting hunched in his seat and giving mumbled, one-syllable answers. For Calvin, he was merely sitting and observing his family, responding when he had something to say rather than wittering on. What was the point of speaking anyway when his words were twisted and made into something else? No, he would keep his gob shut and that way he couldn’t be blamed for anything else.
‘Are you going to sulk all night then?’ Judy slipped into the driver’s seat of the car, smiled fixed in place as she waved to her parents on the doorstep, belying the fact that she was livid.
‘I haven’t been sulking.’ Calvin was already belted into his seat, arms thumped across his chest and his gaze fixed on the window. The house across from Susan and Bernard’s was decked out like the Blackpool illuminations. It must have bumped their electricity bill up to at least double the normal price. It was a ludicrous waste of time and money in Calvin’s opinion.
‘You’re still sulking now.’ Judy sighed. There was no point
in having this row. Not when they would be stuck inside the car with the children for the next twenty minutes. ‘Are you buckled in, Charlie? Scott, can you check for me?’
‘Just a sec.’ Scott was already engrossed with his DS. His sister’s safety could wait.
‘Scott! Now, please.’ Judy snatched her own seatbelt and dragged it across her body. Why was it always her who had to drive on occasions such as these? Calvin claimed he didn’t feel like driving after enduring rush hour traffic twice a day already, but what about Judy? She baked and served all day but that didn’t stop her from getting food on the table each evening or picking up after three people who were more than capable of picking up after themselves. Judy suspected it had more to do with the cans of lager Calvin had downed and the whiskey he and Bernard had enjoyed on the sly.
‘All right, all right. No need to get all snappy.’ Scott, still clutching his DS, leaned across to check his sister’s seatbelt.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ Judy shouldn’t take her bad mood out on the children. ‘Are we all ready?’
Judy’s mood didn’t improve during the drive home, especially when Calvin parked himself in front of the television as soon as they arrived, leaving it up to Judy to get Charlie ready for bed. It was always the same. If it involved the children, it was automatically Judy’s responsibility.
‘Thanks for tonight. I really appreciate it.’ Judy had been seething all evening but waited until both Charlie and Scott were in bed before venting her frustration.
‘What do you mean?’ Calvin was instantly on edge. Was she truly thankful? Because her tone suggested otherwise.
‘I mean you being a complete baby and sulking. Why do you have to be so rude whenever we visit my parents?’ Judy could understand if her parents were anything like Calvin’s, who couldn’t give a toss about any of them and would rather spend time with their daughter and her family than Calvin’s. But Judy’s parents were nothing but pleasant towards Calvin. They saw him as their son.
The Mince Pie Mix-Up Page 2