Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy (7 page)

I spied Rosencrantz boogying away on the second level and climbed the dark wooden staircase to meet him.

‘Hello love,’ I shouted.
 

‘Hi Mum,’ he said carrying on dancing. ‘Are you on your own?’ I said I was.

‘The Manager isn’t keen on my family visiting.’

‘Why?’

He told me that Ethel had been in yesterday with her friend Irene, but they hadn’t twigged that Abercrombie & Fitch is a clothes shop. Ethel went up to the till and ordered half a cider and a port and lemon.

‘Nan was really rude to the guy serving,’ he said. ‘When he told her she couldn’t have a drink she accused him of being ageist then barged behind the till to pour her own.’

‘What happened?’

 
‘He called the Manager and had them escorted off the premises. She’s now barred from every Abercrombie and Fitch in the UK.’ I started laughing.

‘It’s not funny Mum. There’s now a CCTV picture of Nan in the staffroom, and underneath it says what to do if you see her.’

‘What do you do if you see her?’

’Trigger the silent alarm and then Security comes.’

‘I wish I had that for when she pops round,’ I said.
 

‘How about I meet you in the Starbucks opposite in ten minutes,’ he said. ‘I’m due for my lunch…’
 

He joined me a few minutes later and we had turkey cranberry sandwiches and Gingerbread Lattes amongst the chaos of Christmas Shoppers traipsing in and out laden with bags.
 

‘They’ve asked me to work on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day,’ he said through a bite of sandwich. ‘It’s triple time, so I said yes… It means I won’t be able to come with you all to Auntie Meryl’s.’

‘Meryl’s?’ I said.

‘Yeah for Christmas,’ he saw my face.

‘Aren’t you going to Auntie Meryl’s?’

‘No. I haven’t been invited,’ I said.

‘Dad is, so is Nan. I just assumed you would be… Well I’m definitely not going now.’

I spent the rest of lunch being nonchalant and saying it was all fine, but it wasn’t. A soon as I said goodbye to Rosencrantz I dived into a shop doorway further down the road, and called Meryl. She wasn’t in and her phone went to voicemail.

‘Watson Funerals! We take care of
any
body…’ The pun hurt my ears just as much as her voice. I debated leaving a message, but I didn’t want to end up actually being invited for Christmas, I just wanted to make a fuss about why I wasn’t.

Wednesday 8th December
 
20.37

TO: [email protected]

Meryl is really rubbing it in now. She’s just emailed her Round Robin Christmas Letter. I’ve attached it below.

ATTACHMENT FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and Tradespersons,

It barely seems like yesterday that I sat down, pulled up a pouffe and reached for the Basildon Bond to write to you with seasons greetings.
 

Apologies for me emailing this letter, but with more work on than ever at our Undertakers business, (a mass shoot-out at our local kebab shop has been keeping us very busy) I haven’t had time to organise my stationary. Not that I am too upset; Royal Mail's Wallace and Gromit Christmas Stamps are a classic example of this country's slipping standards. Should Queen Elizabeth The Second really share a stamp with two lumps of modelling clay? What is wrong with a Nativity Scene at Christmas? Moreover, why are we no longer permitted to lick our stamps? They've all gone pre-adhesive; no doubt due to some ridiculous European law for fear that the old ones were too high in calories or that we may cut our tongues.
 
Saying that, it hasn’t fazed Tony - he was never much of a fan of all the licking I made him do!
 

2010 has been a glorious year - I gave birth to our beloved son. He was very punctual and arrived on time, but thanks to a blunder at our local NHS trust I couldn't have the water birth I so desired. According to the Midwife, someone had stolen the plug for the birthing pool.

It was a long labour - 114 hours — and I am proud to say I survived the whole ordeal on just half a paracetamol. Wilfred Ogilvy Thatcher Watson came into the world at 2.03 in the morning on 14th March weighing 13lb 12oz (ouch)! He is my little angel, a gift I never thought I would get so late in life.
 

And gosh, he’s a very advanced baby! I’m quite positive he has already learnt to read. He always claps his hands in delight when he sees the Waitrose sign as we drive to do the weekly shop.
 

Watson Funerals had its best month ever in August, (twenty-three people died contracting Legionnaires disease from a mucky Jacuzzi at the leisure centre) so in September I decided to completely redecorate the house. I’ve had the living room and drawing room remodelled as almost an exact replica of Sandringham House, The Queen’s private residence. We have our own version of The White Drawing Room and The Saloon!

This will be Wilfred's first Christmas, so we’ll be re-connecting with family, spending the festivities with those we really care for; my brother Daniel, mother Ethel, nephew Rosencrantz and Tony’s family. I’ll be pulling out all of the stops. As we now share the same decor as The Queen, I’ve decided we’ll have the same Christmas! We’ll be having the same food, and following the same programme of events; although, I won’t be addressing the nation at 3pm. I leave that to her Majesty!
 

We wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy and prosperous New Year
 

Meryl, Tony & Wilfred Watson.

The cheeky cow, to think all the years she came here for Christmas, ate my food, and pulled my crackers! I’m seething.

Thursday 9th December
 
10.45

TO: [email protected]

Marika phoned me from the staff room at work. I asked her what I should do about Meryl.

‘Remind me what the problem is?’ she said. ‘You haven’t been invited to spend Christmas with her?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Or Ethel, or Tony or your idiot ex-husband…’

‘Yep.’

‘And you’ve always said it was your dream to spend Christmas on your own?’

‘Yes…’ There was a silence. ‘Are you still there?’ I said.

‘Yeah, I’m just waiting to hear what the problem is?’

‘It’s the principle,’ I whined.

‘People who bang on about ‘the principle’ never get far in life,’ she said. ‘What’s Meryl’s number? I could phone and remind her of the principle involved and demand you be part of her Sandringham Christmas.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ I said.

‘Just leave it then Coco. It’s her problem, not yours. Buy her a really shit present, like stretch mark cream.’
 

‘Hey I could get Tony some Viagra off the internet too!’

‘Talking of Viagra. What’s going on with that hottie at the coffee shop?’

‘Who? Xavier? Nothing!’ I said.

‘How often have been to the cafe?’

‘Well, lots. I’ve been going in to get milk for Rocco, he’s very sweet and a bit flirty.’

‘Well, maybe you should do something. God woman, you’ll regret your timidity when you’re a pensioner. You make life far more difficult than it should be…’

I came off the phone and thought maybe I
should
do something. Shake things up a bit.

Monday 13th December
 
11.36

TO: [email protected]

Thank you for your chat the other day. Over the weekend I had a think and you’re right, I do make things too complicated. I’m going to stop thinking about Meryl and have the most wonderful selfish lazy Christmas, eating Sushi and a whole tin of Quality Street under the Christmas tree.

I also did something about Xavier. It did strike me that he might be gay (the hot ones usually are) so I dragged Chris out of bed to Insomnia Cafe.
 

'He’s straight,' said Chris the second we walked through the big glass door. Xavier hadn’t even turned round, he was bent over re-stocking the fridge.

'How do you know?' I whispered. Xavier was wearing his tight black Barista trousers, smart black shoes.

‘It’s his underwear, see, he’s wearing some grey boxers off the market. Any respecting gay guy with his body would most certainly be wearing designer undies.'
 

Sure enough Xavier had a big pair of grey briefs bunching up and spilling over his waistband.

'That’s great,' I grinned.

'For you,' he huffed. 'I’m going back to bed.'

'Don’t you want coffee? My treat.’

'No, I’ll use my machine at home… At least my machine won’t reject me like a hot straight guy,' and he stomped off in his snow boots.

Xavier made me a Latte as usual, and as he was warming the milk, I took a deep breath and invited him to come as my date to Angie’s Christmas party next week. He looked a bit surprised - but he said yes! How impressed are you?

P.s Can you babysit Rocco whilst I’m at the party?

Monday 13th December
 
13.12

TO: [email protected]

Marika just phoned me from the staff room.
 

‘Are you mad?’ she said. ‘What are you doing inviting some random guy from your local coffee shop to Angie’s Christmas party?’

‘He’s not random. He’s Xavier.’

‘Okay where does he live? What’s his surname? Has he got a wife? An ex-wife? - Has he got children?’
 

‘I don’t know,’ I said sheepishly.

‘Well, you should find out before the party. All these people you work with are going to ask about your date, and you can’t say
I don’t know
… They’ll think you’ve hired an escort.’

‘You said I should do something!’

‘I meant flirt back! Look Cokes that’s the lunch bell, I’ve got to go…’

‘What should I do now?’ I said.

‘I’ll tell you what I told my year eights before their SATs.’

‘What?’

‘
Revise; s
o get down to Insomnia Cafe and start revising.’

Wednesday 15th December
 
08.12

TO: [email protected]

During my past three visits to Insomnia Cafe, I’ve managed to winkle some titbits of information about Xavier. He’s studying to be an Architect and he works the early morning shift and weekends. He has no children ‘that he knows of’ (his joke). His surname is Michael.

I also went for a full six hours without thinking about Adam yesterday, but then felt weirdly guilty that I’d forgotten him for so long.

Thursday 16th December
 
09.15

TO: [email protected]

Rosencrantz just sent me an email from Meryl with the arrangements for her Sandringham Christmas. I shudder to think I was married to her flesh and blood for over twenty years.

ATTACHMENT

FROM [email protected]
 

TO [email protected]

The Watson’s Sandringham Christmas.

At the behest and request of Meryl, Tony and Wilfred Watson you are cordially invited to spend a truly memorable Sandringham-themed Christmas.

When: 23rd-27th December 2010.

Where: ‘Bonvivant’, Abacus Blvd, Milton Keynes, MK1 7TY

Please familiarise yourself with the following programme of events.

CHRISTMAS EVE

(Dress code; casual tweed)

Guests will be expected to arrive before 4 p.m when tea will be taken on my Royal Doulton in The White Drawing Room (small scale replica of one at Sandringham House)

4 p.m Earl Grey. sandwiches, scones and muffins will be in abundance. This will be a chance to take the first look at the Christmas tree, freshly dug from Norfolk.

6 p.m We will open gifts (following in the German tradition of unwrapping gifts the night before Christmas). All gifts will be laid out on a white linen-covered table with name tags (be prepared to make a short thank you speech if required).
7.10 p.m After gifts, it is off to the Saloon for Dubonnet and gin cocktails.

7.45 p.m Amply refreshed, we will dress for dinner. Ladies in gowns, gents in black tie.

At 8 p.m The gong will sound for dinner (I found a nice gong in John Lewis). The Queen always arrives fashionably late at 8.15 p.m and as your hostess I will observe the same. Dinner will be by candlelight in the dining room with a shrimp appetiser, followed by a main course of game and a dessert of tarte tatin.

10.15 p.m coffee, port and brandy.

Midnight - bed.

CHRISTMAS DAY

(Dress code smart church outfits, no jeans or crop-tops)

7 a.m Breakfast in the dining room. Bacon, sausage, eggs, toast and tea -–
 
you will be able to take your pick from the traditional English menu for breakfast.
 

11 a.m Christmas service at the St. Michael’s Church led by the Reverend Damian Leviticus. This is walking distance, although dial-a-ride will take my mother and any small children.
 

12.30 p.m Turkey lunch with all the trimmings, the Queen has a bird from her Norfolk estate so we have done the next best thing and ordered something from Bernard Matthews.

2.30 p.m Meryl’s Christmas Speech. I’ve decided to do my own Christmas speech, just before The Queen. This will either be live in the White Drawing Room, or if Tony can get the video camera going, I’ll pre-record it.

3 p.m The Queen’s Speech.

3.15 p.m The Queen’s Speech, (The movie starring Helen Mirren).

5.30 p.m Charades, Monopoly whatever people want, this will be free and easy (Fill in the enclosed form with which you’d prefer).

8 p.m Turkey leftovers (with a fresh lobster salad to start).

10.15 p.m coffee, port and brandy.

Midnight - bed.

BOXING DAY

(Warm smart tweed)
I’m trying to arrange a Pheasant shoot, and hire a few Corgis to pick up the dead birds. I will keep you posted!

Saturday 18th December
 
03.37