No-one Ever Has Sex on Christmas Day

by Tracy Bloom

  ‘Am I making a massive mistake?’ Braindead asked as they watched Abby walk out of the pub. ‘I’m going to look like a complete tit flying through the air in a penguin suit, aren’t I?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I imagine that would be the cause of much mirth for you.’

  ‘You’re not wrong.’

  ‘You knew with Katy though, didn’t you? You knew you had to get married.’

  Ben took another gulp of his beer. He knew he couldn’t talk about his utter certainty that he wanted to spend his life with Katy. Not at this moment. This moment had more pressing issues to face.

  ‘Katy forgot about the Nativity,’ he said, putting his pint down. ‘She might not be back in time from Australia to see it.’

  ‘Millie’s Nativity?’

  Ben paused. ‘It’s my Nativity too,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m running the show.’

  ‘I’ll come, mate – if you like,’ said Braindead after a moment.

  Ben looked up at him gratefully. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why I feel so emotional about it. It’s only a bloody Nativity, isn’t it, after all? A bunch of kids running around with tea towels on their heads, singing out of tune.’

  ‘You spend a lot of time with women,’ said Braindead. ‘It was bound to happen.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘That you start behaving like them.’

  Ben nodded. ‘Right.’

  ‘But it isn’t a bad thing. It’s just that you start caring about stuff you didn’t used to. That’s all.’

  ‘Like kids in Nativity plays?’

  ‘Yeah, stuff like that.’

  ‘So what do I do?’ asked Ben.

  ‘There’s only one thing you can do, mate.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Claim back your inner man.’

  ‘How do I do that?’

  Braindead shrugged. ‘Get pissed.’

  ‘I’ll certainly drink to that,’ said Ben, raising his glass.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Rudolph!’ cried Ben, stumbling up his garden steps three hours later.

  He lurched towards the leering inflatable animal and threw his arms round its neck. Rudolf was surprisingly soft and squishy, caving in easily to Ben’s affections and leaving them rolling around on the floor in some bizarre festive wrestling match.

  ‘What are you doing?’ someone hissed behind him.

  Ben tried to struggle to his feet but couldn’t get a grip as the wobbling reindeer thwarted his efforts at every turn. Eventually he gave up, falling back into a giggling heap.

  Katy peered down at him through the darkness. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘This is fun,’ he said, laughing. ‘Come on, you try it.’

  Katy folded her arms across her dressing gown and pursed her lips. It didn’t look like she fancied reindeer wrangling at this time of night. He made another effort to get to his feet, and this time he managed to find safe ground and hauled himself up.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked. ‘You’ve been gone ages, I was worried.’

  ‘Everything is great, brilliant in fact. Me and Braindead got stuck into a session and put the world to rights.’

  ‘I can see that,’ replied Katy as Ben lost his footing slightly and had to grab hold of the fence. ‘It is a school night, you know,’ she pointed out.

  Ben felt his high spirits leak out of him, making him feel as deflated as poor Santa on the roof. He didn’t want a lecture; he was well aware it was a school night but needs must. He’d needed his escape for a while, and now Katy had dragged him firmly back to reality.

  ‘I am very aware it’s a school night,’ he said stroppily. ‘You’re not my mother, you know. If I want to go out and have a few beers with my mate, I can. I don’t need to ask your permission.’

  ‘I never said you did. You just could have texted me to say you were staying out late, that’s all,’ replied Katy.

  ‘Oh, like you let me know every minute of every day what you’re doing,’ bit back Ben.

  Katy stared back at him for a moment.

  ‘Is this about the Nativity?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s about the Nativity,’ said Ben, raising his voice. He didn’t care any more. The beer had undone him, and it was all about to spill out.

  ‘I’ve spent all night online trying to work out what to do,’ said Katy. ‘I’ve managed to change my flight to get me straight into Manchester rather than London, and I’ve booked a car to pick me up from there. I should make it, really I should. I’m doing everything I can – honestly.’

  ‘Oh, well done you,’ replied Ben. ‘Doesn’t make up for the fact that you forgot about it in the first place, you were so excited about going on holiday!’ He was leaning into her now, their faces inches apart. He felt himself sway and had to pull himself back quickly.

  ‘I’m not going on holiday,’ she said. Her hands were screwed up tightly into balls and she looked on the verge of tears.

  ‘Really? Really?’ cried Ben, swaying even more. He turned and paced round Rudolph, trying to gather his rapidly unravelling thoughts.

  ‘Let’s go inside and talk about this properly,’ said Katy. ‘There’s something—’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ declared Ben. ‘Cooper What’s His Face has clicked his fingers and you’re off. Just like that without a backward glance at me and Millie.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You tell me,’ said Ben, leaning forward to look her closely in the eye again. ‘First dinner, and now a free trip to Australia. Just sayin’, that’s all.’

  ‘What are you “just sayin”’ said Katy, a look of horror on her face.

  Ben took a deep breath. ‘Just sayin’ that this man seems to have you wrapped around his little finger. I’m starting to wonder what’s so special about him.’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Katy a little too quickly.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure about what?’

  ‘That there’s nothing going on between the two of you.’

  ‘Between me and Cooper?’

  ‘Yes, between you and Cooper!’ shouted Ben.

  ‘Of course there’s nothing going on!’ shouted back Katy. ‘How could you accuse me of that? You know I would never, ever do anything like that.’

  Ben narrowed his eyes. He paused.

  ‘But you did, didn’t you – once?’ he said quietly.

  Katy snapped her head back as though she’d been slapped. Ben watched as her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘And that’s exactly why I would never do anything like that ever again.’

  She turned and he watched her flee back into the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I know it’s late, darling, but we are at a Christmas party on the beach. Such fun! Just about to head home to bed. To sleep obviously ;) Did you call Carlos’s son to invite him for Christmas? Mum xx

  Katy slammed the phone on the kitchen table before she ran upstairs and buried her head in the pillow. The tears came with force as the tension of the last few days and the devastation that Ben could think she was capable of an affair came flooding out. Could he really still be carrying around such a deep resentment over her stupid one-night stand? It was nearly four years ago. She’d thought he was over it. They had been through so much since then. Did he actually trust her at all?

  Eventually she cried herself to sleep and didn’t hear him come to bed. She woke up the next morning to the sound of him in the shower, trying to revive himself ready for his day at preschool. She sat on the bed, waiting for him to come out. Thinking what to say. Trying to make sense of the mess she seemed to have got herself into over Cooper White and his job offer. She knew she had totally screwed up her timing, but she had to tell Ben the secret she’d been hiding. She just prayed he understood why she hadn’t told him before and could understand why she was finding it so hard to make a decision.

  He finally emerged, and
she stood up to begin to talk to him, but he stopped her in her tracks, holding his hand up.

  ‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ he announced. ‘I know you wouldn’t do anything. Can we just pretend last night didn’t happen?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course we can,’ replied Katy, engulfed with relief that he hadn’t meant what he’d said. ‘I wouldn’t, couldn’t—’

  ‘I know,’ interrupted Ben. ‘You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just forget it, shall we?’

  ‘Yes, but I think we need…’ started Katy.

  ‘No, Katy,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

  ‘I know, but about this trip to Australia—’

  ‘I said enough, Katy,’ he replied, slightly raising his voice. ‘The subject is closed. Go to Australia. Go and do your job and then, maybe, finally, we can start looking forward to Christmas.’ He looked grim and determined. ‘That’s all I want to do now.’

  ‘But I—’ began Katy again.

  ‘I don’t want to hear another bloody word about Australia,’ he said. ‘Do you hear me? Not a word.’ He walked out of the room with just a towel wrapped round his middle. Moments later she heard him next door talking to Millie.

  Several times in the days that followed she wondered how she had got it so wrong as her trip remained firmly the elephant in the room. She contemplated numerous times trying again to share with Ben the job offer, but as Australia was now the root of all evil she felt sure that any rational conversation would be immediately rejected. Her going away was risking a mother not seeing her daughter and husband deliver the best Nativity of all time, and Cooper White was a nasty villain trying to steal Ben’s wife. How could they possible live there? It was an evil, evil place.

  Besides, she wasn’t actually going to take the job anyway, was she? So why cause further upset? Ben was right: she should just go over there and then come back so they could all start finally looking forward to Christmas. Forget the job offer, it was never going to happen. Cooper’s comment about gender did, however, occasionally prey on her mind. If their roles were reversed and Ben had been offered the job of a lifetime overseas, they would have jumped at it. But then Ben wasn’t racing against a ticking clock to have a baby. She would just have to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind and not be flattered into anything by the sunshine or Cooper White. She was going on a work trip as requested and would return and resume normal life. That was how it had to be.

  The mood was sombre on Christmas party day in Ben and Katy’s house. Katy glided the iron over the crisp new white dinner shirt she’d bought Ben to go with the hired monkey suit hanging on the back of the door. He was lying on the sofa in jeans and T-shirt, pretending to watch football on the telly, but she noticed he kept glancing at the disparate ironing pile that Katy was currently working her way through. Floaty, summery dresses passed over the ironing board in between heavy jeans and thick woollen jumpers. She felt herself wince every time she bent down to fold a T-shirt and put it into the suitcase open next to her.

  The mood was not helped by the tearful farewell she’d had earlier with Millie, who had gone for a sleepover with Ben’s mum and wouldn’t be returning until after Katy had left for the airport the following day. Ben had watched as they had both worked themselves up into a state, saying nothing to soothe either of them. Katy couldn’t blame him of course – he had every right to be sulking. The onus was very clearly on her to smooth over the inconvenience of her trip.

  ‘There,’ she said, holding up the crisp white shirt. ‘Do you want to try it on?’

  ‘No,’ he replied without looking up.

  She draped it over a coat hanger and hung it on the back of the living-room door. ‘Your bow tie is on the chest of drawers upstairs,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Daniel said he would help you tie it when you got there if we’re struggling. I’ve never done one before, have you?’

  ‘No,’ murmured Ben, staring at the long flowery skirt she’d picked up from the pile.

  Silence descended again as she ran the iron over the bright patterned fabric. The material was thin and ironed easily. She remembered wearing it last summer in Cornwall. Her, Ben and Millie had gone out to find food in the early evening and had ended up on the beach eating fish and chips. She’d kicked her sandals off and buried her toes in the sand. It had felt good, as she’d munched on salt-and-vinegar-drenched food. She would never have thought the next time she’d be wearing it would be in Australia. Never in a million years. She bent down and placed the skirt in her suitcase. She glanced over at Ben. He was already looking at her; he held her gaze for a moment then looked away.

  ‘By the way, I’ve asked Mum if she’ll babysit one night while she’s here,’ she said to Ben in an effort to get a conversation out of him. ‘So we can have a Christmas night out together. On our own.’

  He looked over. A small smile crept on to his face for the first time in days.

  ‘Thought we could go to Fever,’ she continued. ‘Dance to “All I Want For Christmas is You” again. Do you remember?’

  He nodded and the smile grew a bit more. Their first Christmas together they’d met up in a pub in Leeds at lunchtime on Christmas Eve with Braindead and some other mates. Happy drinking had followed until about 4 p.m. when everyone left in a panic to do some last-minute drunken shopping. Ben and Katy, slightly the worse for wear, had wandered down the street and heard Christmas music coming from a bar. They’d dashed in and stormed the deserted dance floor, wobbling and gliding to Mariah Carey’s classic Christmas track and meeting together for the last chord with a full-on festive kiss. Two middle-aged men supping pints had clapped and they’d taken a bow, leaving the pub without even buying a drink. They’d both agreed that it had been without doubt their best Christmas Eve ever. Only improved by a Chinese on the way home and a hangover by 9 p.m.

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said.

  ‘Great.’ She nodded. ‘It’s a date.’ She bent down and grabbed some of Millie’s costume to iron, ready for Friday. She was quiet while she concentrated on making sure it was crease-free and spic and span. She turned to Ben as she hung it up.

  ‘I will do everything in my power to make sure I’m there,’ she said to him.

  ‘I know,’ he replied, not even looking at her.

  ‘Oh and I’ve booked an electrician to come round on Monday and sort out Santa on the roof,’ she said. ‘Can’t have him saggy for Christmas Day, can we? He said he’d put some more lights up as well while he’s up there.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ben, turning to look at her wide-eyed. ‘I’ve got loads. I went to the discount place again,’ he admitted.

  ‘Did you?’ Katy smiled. ‘Well, after Monday our house will look the best in Leeds, I reckon.’

  Ben got up from the sofa and walked over to Katy.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, putting his arms around her.

  ‘Call it an early Christmas present,’ she said.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, slapping his forehead. ‘I haven’t bought you anything yet.’

  ‘No need,’ she replied. ‘All I want for Christmas is you – you know that, don’t you?

  ‘Me too,’ he replied, reaching down to kiss her. ‘Me too.’

  Matthew had never felt more uncomfortable in his life than at this precise moment. He was perched on the sofa in the kitchen in just his dinner-suit trousers, his chest bare for all to see. Across the room stood Lena in full make-up and gown, ironing his shirt for him. He didn’t know where to look or where to hide. For some reason he was acutely aware of his hairless chest, making him feel more exposed than the mere lack of shirt did. Lena knowing an intimate detail like the fact that he had no chest hair had crossed a boundary he wasn’t comfortable with. He imagined her sniggering to her friends. Why had she come down just as he was struggling to iron his dress shirt? There is no man more vulnerable than one standing half-naked behind an ironing board in his kitchen.

  ‘Is it all OK?’ she had asked as he’d tried not to st
are at her stunning transformation when she’d walked into the room.

  ‘Can’t seem to get the iron to work,’ he’d muttered. ‘Is it broken?’

  ‘But I used it today,’ she’d said, walking towards him with a confused look on her face. Standing directly opposite him with only an ironing board between them, she’d picked it up and shook it. His senses had been immediately engulfed in her exotic perfume to the extent that when she’d asked him to move out of the way so she could solve the puzzle of the cold iron, he’d been only too happy to escape her heady proximity. He’d dashed to the other side of the room and watched as she’d smiled to herself.

  ‘The temperature is on low, it would not iron a fly wing,’ she’d said to him. She’d set the iron down again and walked over to retrieve the shirt from where he’d slung it on the table, before draping it over the board and picking up the iron again.

  ‘No, no,’ Matthew had said, flustered but not daring to move closer. ‘Please let me, I didn’t mean for you to do it.’

  ‘It will be quicker and better,’ she’d said.

  He couldn’t argue about that.

  He’d sat wordlessly on the edge of the sofa until she extended her hand out, a perfectly ironed shirt hanging on the end of it. He sprang up and took it from her as quickly as he could, muttering his thanks before trying hard not to break into a run on his way out of the kitchen.

  The tension, however, wasn’t much better when he arrived back in the bedroom.

  ‘Look at me,’ demanded Alison as soon as he walked in.

  He had his defence prepared as to why he had been so long ironing his shirt, but one look at Alison told him that his ironing issues were not at the forefront of her mind at the moment.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said, pulling his shirt on.

  ‘Oh shut up,’ she said. ‘I passed Lena on the landing. I look like an overstuffed sofa and she looks like she just stepped off the dance floor in Strictly.’