The Mince Pie Mix-Up

‘I wish I could live your life. I’d happily swap lives with you.’

It might be the season to be jolly but for Calvin and Judy the usual festive bickering has already begun! Judy’s convinced that her husband has it easy – no glittery wrapping paper, no playground gossip and absolutely no Christmas baking.

Calvin wishes he could trade in his obnoxious boss and dull nine-to-five job to spend more time kicking back with his kids – how hard can Judy’s life really be?

But after a magical mince pie mix-up, one thing’s for certain – by Christmas Day, life for Judy and Calvin will never be the same again. Perhaps the grass isn’t always greener after all…

A hilarious, feel-good festive read, perfect to curl up with this Christmas. Fans of Carole Matthews, Jane Costello and Mandy Baggot will love this story!

The Mince Pie Mix-Up

Jennifer Joyce

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Jennifer Joyce 2015

Jennifer Joyce asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474045896

Version date: 2018-07-23

JENNIFER JOYCE

is a writer of romantic comedies. She's been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bee's knees typing on THAT. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their bunnies Cinnamon and Leah and Jack Russell Luna. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer likes to make things – she’ll use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram. You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk, on Twitter at @writer_jenn and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites

A great big thank you to my family for their support and encouragement. I’ll always be grateful that none of you have laughed in my face at my attempts to write. At least not to my face, which is good enough for me. Extra special thanks to Chris, Rianne and Isobel for not minding when I hole myself away at my desk – though I suspect you quite enjoy the peace.

Thank you to all the wonderful book fiends on Twitter, who make procrastinating all the more alluring. Also, massive thanks to Team Novelicious, who make being a book nerd so much fun.

Finally, thank you to Clio Cornish and all at HQ Digital UK, especially my editor Charlotte Mursell, who pushed me to make The Mince Pie Mix-Up the better book it is today.

For Chris, Rianne and Isobel, with love at Christmas and always

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One: Mince Pies at Dawn

A dozen pastry stars. Two lunch boxes. No, one lunch box – where was the other? Dog lead. Second batch of mince pies out of the oven. Quick, get the pastry stars on top of the third batch. Where is that lunch box? And why are there only ten pastry stars? Pastry cutter, pastry cutter, aha! Two more pastry stars, now plonked on top of mince pie cases. Mince pies in the oven. Woof. One minute, Miller. Where is that bloody lunch box?

‘Scott? Charlie? Are you out of bed yet?’

Lunch box, lunch box. Where could it be? Woof.

‘I’m so sorry, Miller. I promise I’ll take you out in two ticks. Scott! Charlie!’

Judy leapt around the kitchen, popping hot mince pies onto cooling racks while searching for the missing lunch box. It had been there only moments ago, sitting on the counter with the other one, she was sure. She’d only packed them a few minutes ago, just before she rolled out the pastry for the stars.

‘Aha!’ Lunch box. Half-buried beneath a blanket of flour. Judy blew the flour away and shoved the lunch box on top of its brother. ‘Scott! Charlie!’

‘All right, all right. We can hear you, you know.’ Scott, Judy’s thirteen-year-old son, wandered into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in comical black tufts, his eyes prised half-open in an attempt at being awake. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Whatever you make yourself. I need to take Miller out for a walk.’ The dog’s ears pricked up, eyeing his dog lead hopefully. It was sitting on the table, where it had been abandoned in favour of mince pies. Miller didn’t dare hope that he’d finally get to leave the house and empty his bladder.

‘Can you get something for Charlie?’ Judy grabbed the lead and Miller jumped out of his basket where he’d been sulking all morning, his claws clattering on the lino as he circled his owner’s legs. ‘And tell your dad to keep an eye on the mince pies. They need to come out in ten to fifteen minutes if I’m not back. Scott, did you hear me?’

‘What?’ Scott turned from the cupboard where he had been observing the cereal boxes. Frosties or Coco Pops?

‘The mince pies.’ Judy struggled to clip the lead onto Miller’s collar as he danced around her ankles. ‘They need to come out of the oven in ten to fifteen minutes. When they’re golden. Tell your dad.’

‘Mmm.’ Scott turned back to the cupboard and grabbed the Frosties.

‘Don’t forget Charlie.’ Judy had finally managed to tether the dog but paused on the kitchen’s threshold. ‘Cereal or toast for Charlie. Do not feed her mince pies for breakfast. Again.’ Miller tugged Judy towards the front door. He would not be teased like this. He either peed outside against a tree or he made a puddle on the floor, which was humiliating for Miller and infuriating for his owner.

‘Have you seen my tie?’ Judy’s husband was halfway down the stairs, his shirt open at the neck. ‘The grey one with the white stripes?’

‘I think it’s in the bathroom, on top of the drawers.’ It certainly wasn’t hung on the rack in the wardrobe where it should be, Judy thought as she grabbed her coat and shoved her arms through the sleeves. ‘Is Charlie out of bed yet? Can you make sure she gets up and has breakfast? No mince pies this time. Speaking of which, can you take them out of the oven in ten to fifteen minutes if I’m not back? Once they’re golden?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Calvin had already turned his back on Judy and was hopping back up the stairs to retrieve his tie. Judy finally opened the front door and Miller tugged her out into the cold December morning. The sky was still a deep navy, the village vaguely lit by street lights and the odd amber glow from the windows of early risers. The windscreens of the cars sparkled under a layer of frost and the grass was stiff and crunchy underfoot. Judy allowed Miller to set the pace – which was rather rapid due to his full bladder and the sight of his favourite tree. Once Miller had relieved himself, his pace dropped to a gentle trot as they made their way along the canal, following their usual route along the towpath until they reached the school’s playing fields and turned onto the public footpath. The path was little more than a dirt track that filled Judy’s shoes with mud. She should have changed into her wellies, really, but she’d been in a bit of a rush. They walked along to the high street, which was still asleep, and followed it down until they came full circle onto their road. She waved to their neighbour, who was busy scraping frost from his car, his teeth chattering at an alarming rate. The sky had lightened by now but it was still bitterly cold so Judy was glad of the warmth as she stepped into the house and removed her coat.

‘I’m back!’ Judy unclipped Miller’s lead and hooked it onto the coat stand. She hoped Scott and Charlie had eaten and were at least part-way dressed by now. The kitchen was silent, which was a good sign. She didn’t even mind seeing the dishes piled up on the side as it was at least evidence that her children had been fed.

‘My tie wasn’t in the bathroom.’ Calvin’s tone was almost accusatory as he joined Judy in the kitchen. He was wearing a lime green tie as he clearly hadn’t managed to locate the grey one.

‘Then I have no idea where –’ Judy paused mid-sentence, her nostrils flaring as she picked up the faint whiff of smoke. Her eyes scanned the kitchen. The mince pies! Flying towards the oven, Judy wrenched open the door, stepping back as a mixture of smoke and steam billowed out, clearing to reveal her mince pies – decidedly the wrong side of golden brown! The smoke alarm kicked into action, screeching despite Judy’s oven-glove-wafting in the air.

‘I asked you to check on them. Why didn’t you take them out of the oven?’ She shoved her hand into the oven glove so roughly, her fingers almost poked out of the other side. The mince pies were yanked out of their incinerator and the tray dumped on the worktop. There really was no way of salvaging them. She’d hesitate to serve them to her own family, never mind the paying public.

‘I thought they were already out of the oven.’ Calvin pointed at the batches cooling on the side. ‘How was I to know there were more in the oven?’

Judy closed her eyes. How to answer that ridiculous question without causing offence? ‘Because I asked you to take them out of the oven?’ That should have been her husband’s first clue. ‘Or how about the smell of burning?’

‘I couldn’t smell it, could I?’ Calvin wasn’t completely stupid. Had he actually been in the presence of the burning pies, Calvin was certain he’d have twigged that there was another batch awaiting his assistance. As it happened, he was detained elsewhere. ‘I was upstairs looking for my tie.’

Judy stared at her husband. He stared back. Neither was willing to back down, both believing wholeheartedly that they were in the right. In the end, Judy decided against saying what was on her mind – which would have caused offence – and instead turned her attention back to the mince pies.

‘Can you sort that out?’ She jabbed a finger at the still screeching smoke detector as she surveyed the singed pies before her. Did she have time to make a fresh batch? Not a chance. Instead, she pushed the tray to the back of the work surface – they were too hot to bin straightaway – cleared away the debris of the morning’s baking and hurried the children along. Calvin left for work somewhere along the way but Judy didn’t bother to say goodbye. She 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?’ 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.