The Mince Pie Mix-Up. Jennifer Joyce

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      ‘It’s an absolute nightmare,’ one of the mothers said with such drama she should have been performing at the Globe Theatre. She looked vaguely familiar. Calvin had never been to Charlie’s ballet classes or any of her performances as he’d always happened to have meetings scheduled that he couldn’t get out of. And if he didn’t, he’d made one up. He couldn’t help it. Ballet wasn’t his thing at all.

      Calvin figured this woman must be a parent from Charlie’s school. She’d been bleating on about the extension her husband had bought her as an early Christmas present for the past fifteen minutes.

      ‘There’s nothing but dust and noise! It wouldn’t be so bad if there were any hunky builders but they’re all fat and hairy.’ The mother shuddered. ‘I can’t wait to escape over Christmas. Did I tell you he’s booked a Caribbean cruise for us? It’s going to be gorgeous. No stress over cooking or putting up with family squabbles. I can’t wait!’

      Calvin should have bought a newspaper en route. He didn’t think he could put up with much more of this garbage.

      ‘I’ve bought him a car. He’s had the Merc for three years now so I thought he deserved an upgrade. He’s had his eye on this Ferrari for a while now so I’ve treated him.’

      Calvin leapt out of his seat and wandered to the window but he could still hear the woman going on and on about money as though it grew on a tree at the bottom of her garden.

      ‘I’m going to take Tabitha on a surprise shopping spree at the end of term. She’s been desperate for this Dolce & Gabbana dress and she’s going to need a whole new wardrobe for the cruise.’

      ‘You’re taking Tabitha on the cruise with you?’

      ‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t want to go without my baby! My mother’s coming with us though, so she can babysit and give us a bit of time together, you know.’

      Calvin thought seriously about jumping through the window. Hopefully the glass would slice into something vital and end this torture.

      On and on she went, the other mothers oohing and aahing and nodding in agreement when all Calvin wanted to do was scream at her to shut up. He didn’t care about her extension or the new kitchen or the cruise. He certainly didn’t want to hear about the bloody Ferrari. He bet this woman and her super-rich hubby wiped their arses on bank notes.

      ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ Finally the ballet class ended and Charlie came tearing towards Calvin. ‘Come and meet Miss Pasquin!’ Calvin had been hoping to head straight home once Charlie’s ballet class finally came to an end, but his daughter had other ideas and dragged him to meet her new ballet teacher. Miss Pasquin was tall and implausibly thin and she couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.

      ‘Mrs Neil.’ Miss Pasquin shook Calvin’s hand daintily. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you. I’m going to be helping out my mum here to make sure the girls are ready for the Christmas show.’

      ‘Mrs Pasquin is Miss Pasquin’s mummy.’ Charlie covered her mouth and giggled, finding the whole concept hilarious. What would she think if she knew her mummy was really her daddy?

      ‘Are you looking forward to our Christmas show?’ Miss Pasquin brushed Charlie’s curls with her dainty hand. ‘Charlie here has been working so hard. She’s going to be a superstar reindeer!’

      ‘Tabitha wanted to be a reindeer but she has to be an elf.’ Charlie beamed up at Calvin, proud of her achievement.

      ‘Elves are just as important in the show too,’ Miss Pasquin pointed out.

      ‘But I bet they’re not as important as reindeer, are they?’ Calvin nudged Charlie and she giggled.

      ‘All parts are important to the show, Mrs Neil.’ Miss Pasquin’s features had become pinched so Calvin decided it was time to get out of there before she gave him a ticking off. Miss Pasquin may have been young, but she looked fierce.

      ‘Come on, Charlie-Chalk. It’s time to go home.’ Calvin held out a hand for his daughter, but Charlie hesitated.

      ‘You don’t call me Charlie-Chalk.’ Her little brow was furrowed as she looked up at Calvin. ‘Daddy calls me Charlie-Chalk.’

      Good point. ‘What do I call you then?’

      Charlie giggled, assuming her mum was playing a game. ‘You call me sweetie. Because I’m sweet.’

      ‘Then come on, sweetie.’ This time Charlie took Calvin’s hand. ‘Let’s go home.’ The sooner the better. But it took a good while to actually get Charlie into the car as she insisted on showing off her ballet moves after every other step, proving her worth as a reindeer. But eventually she was in the car and buckled into her seat. Calvin couldn’t wait to sink into his chair at home and have a well-deserved rest.

      ‘Reindeer are better than elves, aren’t they, Mummy?’ Charlie asked as they made their way back towards the village.

      ‘A million times better,’ Calvin replied. ‘Elves smell like wee.’

      Charlie covered her mouth and giggled. ‘Tabitha isn’t going to be home at Christmas. She’s going on a big boat. That means she won’t get any presents, doesn’t it? There won’t be a chimney for Santa.’

      Calvin guessed that Tabitha was the offspring of Mrs Super-Rich and suspected she’d be getting a lot of presents. Expensive ones her mother could brag about. But he didn’t tell Charlie this.

      ‘Mummy?’ Charlie had continued to chatter away for the entire journey but her tone was suddenly sharper as they reached the village. ‘Why didn’t we pick up Scott?’

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