Twenty-One
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