Jennifer Joyce - The Mince Pie Mix-Up

‘Me too!’

Judy and Calvin stood just inches apart, glaring at their spouse. In the movies, they’d fall into each other’s arms and make up like there was no tomorrow. But this was no movie and Judy and Calvin were far too incensed to even think about sex.

‘You think my life is easy, do you?’ Judy asked. There were those damn tears again! She didn’t want to cry – she wanted to speak and be heard for a change.

‘Compared to mine, yes. You don’t have a jumped-up prick of a boss breathing down your neck or deadlines looming around every corner. You don’t have to battle rush hour traffic or miss out on the kids’ stuff. Do you think I wanted to miss Scott’s award ceremony?’

Judy honestly didn’t know the answer to that. Calvin’s work commitments were unavoidable but she sometimes got the impression Calvin would rather be anywhere else other than with his family.

‘I just need you to understand what my life is like,’ Judy said.

Calvin pulled his hoodie over his head and tossed it towards the laundry basket. It missed by about a foot but he made no attempt to pick it up and try again. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his jeans before climbing into bed.

‘I know what your life is like, Judy. You never stop bleating on about it.’ Calvin turned away from his wife and within minutes he was snoring and making enough noise to rattle the windows. Picking up Calvin’s discarded clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket, Judy got herself ready for bed, but sleep was not as forthcoming for her as it so audibly was for Calvin.

‘I wish we could trade lives,’ she told Calvin’s back. ‘Then you’d understand.’

Chapter Four: We Made a Wish

The alarm clock jumped to attention, emitting an annoying but effective siren to wake the occupants of the nearby bed. The occupants groaned and stretched but, as no attempt was made to reach for the clock, it kept going, enjoying stretching its clock equivalent of vocal cords. This clock was a true professional. There would be no snoozing on his watch.

From the bed, Calvin groaned, rubbing at his dry, scratchy eyes. How much had he had to drink last night? His brain was fuzzy but he recalled eating turkey with all the trimmings the evening before. So why could he taste mince pie? Slightly burnt mince pie? Had Christmas been and gone already? Did that mean that they had reached the Benvenuti deadline at work? He hoped the rescheduled photo shoot had gone well. He couldn’t remember it at all.

Shoving his head under his pillow, Calvin mumbled something incoherent about turning off the alarm. Though Calvin couldn’t remember much, he was pretty sure it was the weekend. Didn’t a bloke deserve a lie-in at the weekend?

Inches away from Calvin, Judy stretched out a hand, wriggling fingers searching for the off switch on the alarm. How could it be morning already? It seemed like only minutes ago she’d been driving home from her parents’ and having a stupid row with her husband. But she must have been asleep because she’d been having a weird dream about eating one of her burnt mice pies, fairies and pine needles. A life-sized fairy had crashed into the sitting room, waking her and Calvin and upending the Christmas tree.

Wait, she could even taste mince pie. Had she angrily eaten one before bed last night? She hadn’t really done her mum’s festive spread justice yesterday evening, what with seething about Calvin all through the meal. She’d gone to bed hungry so maybe that hunger had driven her to the kitchen in the night. A belly full of burnt pastry would certainly account for the bizarre fairy dream.

Judy couldn’t seem to locate the alarm. Squinting through one blurry eye, Judy realised what the problem was. She was sleeping on the wrong side of the bed, which meant the alarm was next to Calvin. She gave him a nudge, which ended up being more of a shove. Maybe there was a little residual anger left from their stupid row last night.

Calvin failed to stir and Judy knew there was no point giving him another nudge. Her husband could sleep through a hurricane rampaging through the bedroom. Reaching over Calvin’s cocooned body, she switched off the alarm and dragged herself out of bed, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep. She’d tossed and turned for what felt like hours before she’d eventually succumbed to sleep what felt like only a matter of minutes ago. Shoving her arms into her dressing gown, Judy made her way out into the hallway. The dressing gown felt oddly snug, as though it had shrunk in the wash.

Scott’s bedroom door swung open as she reached out to knock on it, revealing her scowling son.

‘Your stupid alarm woke me up.’ Scott pushed past Judy and stomped his way to the bathroom, only to poke his head back out to face her again. ‘Why are you wearing Mum’s dressing gown? Pink really isn’t your colour.’ Scott sniggered and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Judy would normally tell her son off about the door-slamming (he needed reminding at least five times a day) but she was too preoccupied by the dressing gown thing. Why are you wearing Mum’s dressing gown?

Judy turned around as a door opened behind her. Charlie emerged from her bedroom, one leg of her pyjamas lodged mid-calf so that she resembled a nineties rapper. Judy always thought her daughter looked adorable first thing in the morning, her curls amassed around her head to Sideshow Bob proportions. Of course, it wasn’t quite so adorable when Judy had to brush the curls later on, but for those first few minutes of the day she could appreciate the charm.

‘Is it morning, Daddy?’

Daddy?

Judy looked down at the increasingly uncomfortable dressing gown, pulling it tightly across her body, and realised she was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts underneath.

Boxer shorts?

Slowly peeling away the dressing gown again, she gasped when she caught sight of the hairy belly and even hairier chest beneath the fabric. And her legs! What the hell had happened to her legs? Yes, it was winter and she wasn’t quite as razor-happy as she was in the warmer months but she looked like a Yeti .

‘Can I go and watch cartoons?’ Charlie asked.

‘Yes, sweetie.’ Judy clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by the voice emerging from her lips. It was gruff but not in a first-thing-in-the-morning, bottom-of-hamster-cage sort of way. It was not her voice at all. It was a man’s voice.

‘Yay!’ Charlie bounded down the stairs, not at all concerned that her mother had spouted an alarming amount of body hair overnight and adopted a man-ish tone.

With shaking fingers, Judy pulled the waistband of the boxer shorts away from her body, wincing as it snapped back into place once she saw what was in there. That did not belong in there at all.

‘Da-ad!’ Charlie hollered up the stairs. ‘What’s happened to the Christmas tree?’

Judy’s eyes widened. The Christmas tree!

The fairy had catapulted into the tree, knocking it to the floor and scattering its pine needles. But that was a dream .

Wasn’t it?

‘Just leave it, sweetie. I’ll sort it out in a minute.’ Judy covered her face with her hands. That was definitely a man’s voice coming out of her mouth. Specifically, her husband’s.

‘What’s up with Mum?’ Scott asked as he emerged from the bathroom. Judy sighed with relief. So Scott could see it too. She wasn’t going mad and imagining things! ‘She usually gets up with us. Are you taking me to football?’

‘I don’t know,’ Judy said in Calvin’s voice. ‘I don’t know what’s going on.’

‘Okay.’ Scott gave Judy a funny look. ‘Whatever. I’m going downstairs.’