The Mince Pie Mix-Up. Jennifer Joyce
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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