Mary was a slapper.

I am probably the worst person to be working in a Church of England school.  I have no reverence, I think the whole Christmas story lacks the element of plausibility and I've always said that Mary must have been a slapper.  As a musician, however, I really quite like the familiarity of singing carols where I know all the words.  I like singing 'Lo he abhors not the Virgin's womb' in O Come All Ye Faithful, even though it makes absolutely no sense at all. As a teacher I am sometimes torn about whether I should explain the words to the children; should they know what they are singing about?  In the second verse of Away in a Manger, for example, should the children be told that 'lowing' is the 'ordinary sound that cattle make' rather than the cattle sitting down?  Sitting cows aren't going to wake baby Wayne from his manger but mooing ones might.

The December thing has been tough but I have still found time to do some of the other things I like to do.  I have managed to continue working on the online creative writing course I've been doing. This is the last week of the course and we had to submit a short story (under 1000 words), which would then be reviewed by other people on the course.  Peer reviews are always interesting and the reviews of my story were no exception.  I was hoping for some editing tips and suggestions on how to improve the story but mainly they have just made me laugh. I will explain why but first you might like to read the story.

Lie Detector

Mhairi had never felt more alone.  She pulled the sleeves of her oversized black jumper over her hands, crossed her arms and gave herself a comforting hug. The researcher sitting next to her on the couch, whispering translations of what Joe was saying, even though she could hear every word and the reaction of the audience, didn’t feel like company.  Her breasts tingled, leaving two small wet patches on her jumper. She was very glad she’d chosen the black one and not her favourite light blue, as the thought of not being immaculate on national television mortified her.

“Come on love, it’s your turn now,” said the researcher, “Don’t let ‘im get away with that.  You go in there and tell your side of the story.”

Mhairi smiled sweetly adding, “Fuck you,” under her breath.

“Let’s get Mhairi on the show, ladies and gentlemen.  How are you, Mhairi?”

Mhairi sat in the orange tub chair, placed adversarially across from Joe.  Her heart flipped, as she looked at him. His gorgeous dark eyes , framed by long dark lashes avoided her.  She would forgive him anything, even this humiliation. “Alright”

“Brilliant.  Your hair matches the chair.”

The audience laughed  and Mhairi inched away from them.

“You told my researchers you’re 60% certain that he’s the dad.”

“Yeah. Maybe.  Maybe not that much.”

“Then you were having sex with someone else at the time?”

“Nah.”

“You must have been or you’d be certain he was the Dad.”

“No, I didn’t but it might not be his.”

She bristled at another ripple of laughter from the audience.

“How many people could be the father of this child?”

“Two.”

“Him and another bloke?  Tell me about the other bloke. Where did you meet him?”

“I’ve never actually met him but he did send someone to see me and they told me that he might be the dad.”

“Brilliant.  There’s always a friend stirring things up.  I suppose they put it all on Facebook too? When did you tell Joe that he might not be the father?”

“The next morning.  As soon as they’d told me.”

“Tell her what you told me, Joe.  Come on you two talk to each other.”

Joe still refused to look at her, “She told me when she was 7 months gone.  Two scans and nothing. She let me sit there holding her hand, pretending all the time.  It was only when Gabe told me that she had to own up.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but nothing came out.

“Oh, come on, Mhairi.  When did you sleep with him?  It was Jude wasn’t it?  You’ve always liked Jude.  I’ve seen you looking at him. “

“No. I never.  I wouldn’t.  I love you.”

“But it can’t be my baby, can it?”

“Don’t call our baby 'it'!”  She was getting angry now.  He could be cross with her all he wanted but not the baby.  Not her special gift.

Suddenly, the baby appeared on a screen behind them; smiling, dribbling and bouncing up and down in the crèche workers arms.

“That’s one special baby.  What would it mean to you Joe to be the father of this child?” Jeremy flicked his prompt cards and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder.

“Everything.  I love that little boy with all my heart but I could never forgive her if she’s lied to me.”

“Right, let’s do this then.  The DNA test results ………………….”

The wait was unbearable. Mhairi became fixated on a woman in the front row, wearing a tweed suit and pearls, with her head tilted back just far enough to make it look as though she had a bad smell under her nose.   Smug cow.  What would you do in my position?

“Well, well, well!  Joe this gives me no pleasure but you are not the baby’s father.” Joe threw his head in his hands and sobbed.

The smug, pearl festooned woman, almost cracked her botoxed face with glee.  “Do the lie detector.  You need to do the lie detector.  He needs to know.  I’m telling the truth, “ Maihri almost shouted.

The audience laughed again.  The woman in pearls turned to her friend, shrugged and Mhairi could imagine her saying something about her being a stupid girl.

“There really isn’t any point in that now.  It’s simple biology isn’t it?  You did biology at school, didn’t you? If Joe isn’t the father then you must have had sex with someone else.”  Jeremy and the audience were really enjoying her humiliation now.

“I didn’t come all this way for you not to give me those fucking results.”  She was surprised that her words weren’t covered by a bleep.  Joe was still sobbing.

“Joe, do you want to know what these results say?” asked Jeremy patting his back insincerely.  Joe shrugged.

“It’s nothing to do with him.  It’s my reputation that’s ruined.  Do the results.”

Mhairi tapped her bitten fingernails on the arm of the chair in time to the Dambusters theme that was unexpectedly playing in her head. She focused all of her attention on the woman with the pearls, trying to ignore Joe, as each result was read out.  The woman was captivated by Jeremy and laughed hysterically at his jokes making fun of her as she passed every test.

Joe moved his chair next to Mhairi and took her hand.  He was beginning to trust her again. 

“Well, well, well,” said Jeremy, “it’s a full house.  That’s most peculiar.  We at the Jeremy Kyle show stand by our lie detector results. Ladies and Gentlemen, it's a Christmas miracle.”

The first review said, "The plot goes after you and angages with you're emotions.  You would like to jump to the last sentence to see the end."   Already, I was worried about getting any useful editing tips.

The next review said, "Characterisation is very interesting.  Here we have the Mary and Joseph story and although it was never stated directly is is very obvious so we subconsciously fill in the characterisation from the bible story.  This conflicts with the characters presented, whose language and demeanour are in sharp contrast with the traditional.  You might ask yourself if this contrast is too sharp."  Oh dear, it wasn't looking good.  Everything about the course had been to encourage us to create characters with conflict, not to be drawn into stereotypes.

Then I thought it started to get a bit strange.  "I wonder should some clarity be introduced for those not familiar with the Christian culture."   Was my piece being reviewed by someone who lives on another planet?  Who isn't familiar with the birth of Jesus, as a story, whether they believe in it or not.

My final reviewer doesn't mince her words,  "This story should have come with a warning before.  It is blasphemous and outrageous.  At this time of year, you should be ashamed!"

I am ashamed - a little - but mostly I'm amused.  Sorry.  I'm resigned to the fact that I'm probably not going to heaven and that Santa will leave me a lump of coal but I still think that Mary must have been a bit of a slapper.