The Mince Pie Mix-Up. Jennifer Joyce
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was too annoyed and too frantic getting everybody ready to leave the house on time.
‘Have you got everything?’ With the two batches of mince pies packed away in boxes and stacked in her arms, Judy herded the children out of the door while going through her usual checklist. ‘Homework? Lunch? PE kit? Do you have that consent form I signed for the school? Have you got your reading book?’
With an affirmative for all of the above, Judy and the children set off through the village, Scott towards the bus stop while Judy and Charlie made their way towards the village green. Judy heard the rumble of the bus in the distance and hoped her son had managed to catch it in time. The last thing she needed was another ticking off from Scott’s head teacher. She and Mr Peebles had already had words over her son’s apparent lack of ‘educational motivation’. What Steve Peebles didn’t seem to grasp was that Scott was motivated by little other than sports and his band. She’d been tempted to invite Peebles over to take a peek at her son’s bedroom and see just how motivated he was to put his laundry in the basket or open his curtains once in a while. Instead, she’d taken the criticism on the chin and set about motivating her son via threats of taking away his football and band privileges.
Charlie skipped alongside her mother as they made their way through the village. The sky had lightened considerably by now but there was still a bleakness in the air. Still, the sight of Christmas trees in the windows and wreaths adorning the doors helped to inject a bit of cheer into the village. If Judy didn’t have a festive to-do list as long as the fairy lights wrapped around her tree at home, she’d be able to relax and enjoy the season.
The Green Teapot sat on the edge of the village green and was already open for business, catering to those in need of a good cup of tea to kick-start the bitter morning. Christmas music was playing softly in the background as Judy and Charlie stepped inside, with Bing Crosby crooning about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. It was warm in the tea room and the air was filled with the smell of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.
Judy placed the batches of edible mince pies on the counter, apologising profusely about their meagre numbers. ‘It’s been a bit of a nightmare morning.’ Judy didn’t mention her husband’s incompetence. ‘But I promise I’ll make some more during my shift.’
Judy worked as a waitress at the tea room, as well as baking at home to earn a bit of extra cash. She’d have to squeeze some baking in between her usual duties. Somehow.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Enid, owner of the Green Teapot and Judy’s boss, gave a wave of her hand. ‘We’ll sort something out.’
Judy knew she was incredibly lucky to have such an understanding boss. Leaving the surviving mince pies in Enid’s capable hands, Judy and Charlie returned to the cold and hurried through the village to the primary school. A rainbow of colours greeted them as children tucked up in hats, coats and gloves whizzed by with insatiable energy and Charlie eagerly joined them, seeking out her friends easily despite them being covered almost head to toe in winter gear.
‘I wish I had this much energy first thing in the morning.’ Laura, Judy’s friend and fellow parent joined her, blowing on her cold fingers to warm them up. She and Judy had met ten years ago, when their boys both started at the village nursery, and now Charlie and Laura’s youngest son were in the same class.
‘I want to curl up and go back to sleep.’ Judy had been up since dawn to fit in her baking before the school run, creeping around the kitchen so as not to wake her family.
‘If only.’ Laura sighed. Like Judy, as soon as the children were safely inside, she’d be off to work. ‘Don’t you wish you were her sometimes?’ Laura pointed across the playground to where Abby Frost was holding court, her designer handbag hooked over the crook of her elbow. Abby Frost was what some people might have described as a ‘yummy mummy’ but what Judy described as a stuck-up cow. Married to a wealthy ex-banker-turned-MP, Abby took every opportunity to flaunt her affluence and status within the community. She didn’t have to work for a living and looked down at the mums who did, publically pitying their offspring for their lack of parental presence.
‘I’d rather clean urinals with my own toothbrush than be her,’ Judy replied. Money was one thing – and quite a nice thing, Judy thought – but being a judgemental snob was another, and not something Judy would wish on anyone. Especially herself.
‘Mrs Neil!’ Judy looked up as she heard her name being called and saw Charlie’s teacher heading towards her, waving to catch her attention. ‘I’m so glad I caught you. I just wanted to check that you’re still okay making the extra costumes for the nativity? We’ll need them for the dress rehearsal next Wednesday.’ Miss Daniels scrunched up her nose. It was a lot of work but Charlie’s mother had volunteered and the school’s nativity budget was tight. Practically non-existent, in fact. They could only just about stretch to new material for the costumes.
‘That’s fine.’ Judy didn’t need to sleep, right? ‘I’ll have them ready.’
‘Great.’ Miss Daniels seemed to deflate with relief. ‘Thank you so much.’ She grinned at Judy before she rushed off to herd the children off to their classroom.
‘How did you end up with that job?’ Laura always did her best to avoid being lumbered with school duties. She had too much on her plate as a single mum of three without piling more on top.
Judy rolled her eyes. ‘I stupidly stepped forward. You know I like sewing and everything but I forgot how hectic it is around Christmas. I’ve only got myself to blame.’
‘Give me a shout if you need a hand.’
Judy thought it was very sweet of Laura to offer, considering she couldn’t so much as thread a needle. ‘I will, thanks. I’ll see you later.’ Charlie’s class had been led into the school by Miss Daniels so Judy made her way back to the Green Teapot, where she threw on an apron and helped clear the early morning rush. It was mid-morning before she managed to cobble together another batch of mince pies before the lunchtime crowd descended upon them. She was rushed off her feet for the rest of the afternoon so it was a relief to finally hang up her apron at half past two. She had just enough time to take Miller to his favourite tree and load the washing machine before dashing to the school to pick up Charlie. She made sure the children were washed and changed while transferring the washing to the dryer and piling in another load. She checked her watch as it began to grow dark outside. Calvin had promised he’d be home early tonight. Where was he?
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?’