Dont bother unpacking that suitcase youre moving out
So whats going on? demanded Irene, marching in like a field marshal. Leo was sprawled on the sofa and didnt even bother to get up when she walked in.
Whats going on is, youre leaving me, darling! So dont go unpacking were getting divorced and youre moving out tonight! said her husband, uttering darling with the enthusiasm of a man discovering hes sat on a wasp.
Irene wondered if shed misheard him. Darling?
Have you seen me? What kind of darling do I make? Im nearly six foot six! Leo had told Susie the other week when shed suggested he play a bunny rabbit at her work do.
Well, then youll be an extra-large bunny flatten everyone and hop into the sunset! Susie had countered, as sharp-tongued as ever.
What sizes the bunny costume anyway? Leo had asked, suddenly nervous.
Oh, blimey, youre right! The bunny suits tiny! Why didnt I think of that? Susie groaned, mentally cursing her own oversight.
Then, with a devious smile: Alright, heres what well do. Youll be Father Christmas, and Victor can hop about as the bunny hes a good foot shorter than you!
Do Victors clothes even fit me? Leo wondered aloud. The coat, jacket, whatever Father Christmas wears?
Of course! It drowns him hes always tripping over the hem!
And what about the script? I dont know what to say!
Oh, for heavens sake, what script? Just wing it, you got top marks at school! Ill cover for you, Susie promised.
Susie, Leos mate since Year 7, now worked at a party agency. This year, their bunny caught pneumonia at precisely the wrong time, leaving a distressing bunny-shaped hole in their Christmas trio.
Bunny? Whats this nonsense? many may tut, and quite rightly. Whats wrong with the classic Father Christmas and helper? Stick to the time-honoured festive formula no need to reinvent the wheel.
But the new boss was all about innovation (and reminding everyone he signed the cheques). Maybe he had unresolved bunny issues in his childhood? Who knows. Possibly never got to be the bunny, so now everyone else had to hop along too.
Thus, the bunny was born: white fur, floppy-eared hat, and a carrot the size of Kent strapped to his back for authenticity. Were shaking things up!, announced the boss. Injecting vitality into British Yuletide tradition!
Next to their energetic manager, even Mr. Pickwick would seem positively subdued.
So now, off theyd go, Father Christmas Victor, Susie the Snow Fairy, and the bunny. Only now the bunny was ill, and at the worst possible time late on 30 December!
I dont care how you do it, said the boss, but we WILL have a bunny!
It was like that old childrens song: Im feeling sad today poor bunnys poorly and lettuce just doesnt taste the same anymore and so on.
Leo, already down in the dumps, wasnt planning anything for New Year. His wife, Irene, had gone off to see her mother yet another health crisis for the ever-ailing mother-in-law so he was left alone.
Sadly, his mother-in-laws health had been declining for months every other week, something new. So Irene, sweet little Irene, kept packing her bags and running to her mum. This was her third visit in two months.
Darling, surely you understand, I cant leave Mum on her own like this, shed said, folding clothes into her suitcase.
Shall I come with you? Itll be grim spending New Year by yourself, Leo suggested.
Oh, dont be silly! Why ruin your holiday as well? Its bad enough mines shot to pieces.
What about in sickness and in health then? Leo asked, a little wounded. We did say our vows, remember?
Youll ring me, and support me. Thats all I need. But you go out, have some fun!
Leo could have crashed someone elses party, though most gatherings were already sorted. Truth was, he felt miserable, as if channeling a tragicomic Alan Bennett character the worlds most melancholic Englishman.
Thats when Susie called. Thankfully, she was not only a mate, but a proper friend-in-need. Good old Susie Smith, like in the songs everybody should have one.
Theyd been mates ever since Year 7 and never drifted, not even after Irene wrinkled her nose, claiming men and women couldnt be just friends. Shed even banned Susie from their wedding, despite Susie having a perfectly respectable husband. Leo, never wanting to rain on Irenes parade, let it slide. Clever Susie, of course, didnt mind they just called each other at work instead.
So, a lonely New Year, and Susie offering to pay him for a little festive work well, the money was nice, though it wasnt about the cash. It was about getting out of the flat and away from wall-to-wall EastEnders repeats.
The Father Christmas coat fit. The boots fit. They glued on a beard and off into the night he went! Kids recited poems; the bunny, carrot bobbing, leaped about the tree. There was a bit of a conga; it all went spectacularly well.
One last booking: 10 p.m. on New Years Eve. Then theyd be off the hook. Susie, sensing her friends loneliness, invited him back to theirs just her, her husband and her mum (who everyone knew from school). Susie had no kids yet which suited the party scene just fine.
They rolled up for their final gig in high spirits. Victor even risked a cheeky drink which, as Father Christmas, was strictly against regulations.
At 9:45 p.m., in between stops, Leo rang Irene:
How are you, darling?
Surviving, love.
Happy New Year! Pass me to your mum; I want to wish her too.
Shes just dozed off dont want to wake her! Im watching telly with my earphones in, thinking of you!
I love you! Ill call again at midnight.
Love you too! Take care bunny! she replied.
When the door of the last house swung open, Leo nearly dropped his sack. Standing there in the hallway was his wife, Irene who, two days earlier, hed loaded into a cab for the train to Newcastle, and who hed spoken to only fifteen minutes ago!
He had offered to drive her himself, but shed refused. Im fine have a rest!
She was wearing her party dress and favourite heels.
When did she sneak those in? I watched her pack! wondered Father Christmas. How very Paul Daniels of her!
Unless was it someone else? A secret twin, perhaps? No, it was Irene hed know that birthmark above her eyebrow anywhere. Or maybe hed finally gone mad. There was, after all, the weird weather and that asteroid supposedly about to hit wasnt that what Mystic Meg said?
But if he was hallucinating, then so was everyone else.
Bunny! called Irene into the living room.
Bunny? But he was the bunny! Or at least, thats what shed called him on the phone a quarter-hour earlier!
Leo was dumbfounded, as if watching himself in a soap opera fog.
Yes, darling! came the reply, and out waddled Bunny: a balding, rotund man in his very thirties.
Wheres the child? Wheres little Wayne? Susie-as-Fairy asked.
Im Wayne! chuckled the bloke, patting his remarkable belly. Decided I deserved a party too!
Leo stared in disbelief. So *this* was why his dear Irene had lied through her gleaming teeth! It was horribly clear hed been well and truly taken for a mug.
His first instinct was to cause a scene, right then and there. But, too embarrassed in front of Susie and Victor, he decided to muddle through. Lowering his voice so as not to give himself away, he commanded, Right then, Wayne, lets have a poem!
Wayne mumbled something unintelligible, while Irene and her new man giggled drunkenly, already a couple of glasses over the limit.
How had fussy, primadonna Irene ended up with this walking disaster? She clung to him, shrieking with laughter at nothing much.
Everything fell into place for Leo especially those thoughtful gifts from Irenes poverty-stricken pensioner mum up North
Time for the conga! Wayne declared. And off they went, staggering in a circle.
Darling, play our song! he slurred. And darling did, and the dancing began.
Wayne, Irene and Victor (now on his third glass of cider) boogied wildly, while Leo recorded it on his phone for evidence Irenes alibi melting faster than an ice cube in a gin and tonic.
It wasnt long before Wayne wearied of festivities and bundled everyone out the door.
Thats enough Im knackered. Cheerio! Show em out, darling!
Irene obediently saw them to the kerb.
Amazing, that, murmured Susie as they headed home. Pretty girl like her! What on earth does she see in that walking tub of margarine? Hes not her husband, is he?
*I* am her husband, Leo wanted to shout. But he bit his tongue.
Leo never did make it to Susies afterwards he knew he wouldnt be able to keep a straight face. No way could he confess the sorry mess that had just landed on his head.
So he texted instead, lying that he felt a cold coming on. Temperature, aches, all that. Then he went home. He didnt ring Irene at midnight. Or after. Let her have fun with her bunny.
He saw in New Year alone. Which, frankly, gave him time to think things through.
Yes, he still loved his wife. Though after that shambles, he loved her less than he did yesterday. And he certainly wasnt planning to forgive. Divorce it was, and the house was his.
Irene, not getting her usual flood of calls and texts from Leo, grew agitated. What hed gone from five calls a day to radio silence? Something was up.
She rushed back from Mums (which apparently had an express Uber service) not on the 4th, but the night of the 2nd. She had to take a taxi Leo (unusually) had ignored her text with all the details.
Whats happened? Irene snapped when she saw Leo on the sofa, not even bothering to get up.
Whats happened is, youre leaving me, darling! So dont bother unpacking. Were getting divorced, and youre moving out, repeated Leo, this time not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Irene stared at him had she misheard? Darling? But only Wayne called her that
And just where am I meant to go? she said, trying an aggressive approach.
I dont know. Back to your bunny? Or up to Newcastle with your mum. By the way, how is she? Leo replied cheerily.
Youve got it all wrong Irene began, panic in her eyes. How did he know? Mum was under orders not to answer the phone until the 4th. Wayne couldnt have told him. Who saw? Who snitched?
Go on then, lets hear your version, Leo replied, almost fascinated now. Maybe your balding mates her new specialist or perhaps an alchemist, promising to whip up a miracle cure for your dear mum? Or just a male nurse, paid for by yours truly, to do the nightshift, change the sheets and so forth? Or, heaven forfend, a funeral director? Making arrangements, like a true loving daughter?
And come now, Irene, theres no need to play coy. You werent shy about showing your knickers while dancing with both bunnies, were you?
And thats when Leo played the film for her.
Irene just stood there, dumbstruck. What could she say? Yes, shed got herself a lover. Why? Thrills, mostly. Sitting at home every day was boring, and Wayne showered her with expensive presents.
Work for a living, just to kill time? Not for her! She was a rose, after all, and roses dont graft.
But what an appalling bit of rotten luck!
She did love Leo, in her own way. Or maybe she just depended on him. Either way, shed hidden things carefully, wanting cake and eating it too.
Had she left because shed fallen for her new balding bunny, Leo could maybe have understood and moved on. Or if shed confessed to a one-off fling maybe hed have forgiven her, big-hearted Leo. Or perhaps, not her Leo anymore.
But the cheating plus the endless lies about Mum and such creative, well-orchestrated lying! It was practically a criminal enterprise, and worthy of a harsher sentence.
Irene wept, pleaded, swore blind, and appealed to Leos better nature. But he was immovable: A trip to the morgue, darling, if I say so! Thats Father Christmas for you always right in the end.
In the end, they split. Leo walked away convinced he was absolutely in the right. He only regretted not making a scene right there in the house on New Years Eve.
After all, when it comes to lifes true drama, why hold back? Whats the point of all those bows and curtsies?
Still, not a bad ending, when alls said and done. Wouldnt you say?
