The Mince Pie Mix-Up. Jennifer JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
‘I need your support, Calvin, especially with Christmas approaching. I’m rushed off my feet all day at work and then when I come home I have to do everything here.’
Calvin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Do you think I have it easy? Do you think I enjoy working my arse off to support this family?’
Judy threw her arms up in the air. Why did she even bother? ‘I work too, you know.’ Judy stormed from the room as hot tears threatened to spill and make her look like a fool. She wasn’t upset. She was angry. Frustrated. Why couldn’t Calvin understand? Why couldn’t he see that her job was just as important as his? Yes, Calvin worked hard but his duties ended as soon as he shut down his computer. He could come home and relax. He didn’t have to cook or clean or ferry the children here and there. He didn’t have to shop or organise or help with homework. Judy’s responsibilities were never-ending.
‘What, that little baking job?’ Calvin had followed Judy and was trailing her up the stairs. ‘You work a few hours a day. Try working my hours and then you’ll know what it’s like to be exhausted. I don’t need this crap after a day’s work.’
‘And I don’t need to run around after an overgrown child.’ Judy had reached the bedroom and contemplated slamming the door in Calvin’s face, but that would only diminish her point. Acting like a hormonal teenager wouldn’t give her the upper hand she thought she deserved. ‘I already have two children. I don’t need another.’
‘So I’m like a child now? You should try living my life and you’d soon change your mind.’
Judy reached out to close the door now Calvin was inside the bedroom, not wanting to wake the children. ‘You should try living my life and then you’d realise what a pig you’re being.’
‘I wish I could live your life.’ Calvin thought how luxurious it would be to work part-time without the commute. ‘I’d happily swap lives with you.’
‘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.’
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?’