Coco Pinchard, the Consequences of Love and Sex

by Robert Bryndza

‘Yep. Civil Service, Band two.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘A fabulous salary, six weeks holiday plus a day off for Christmas shopping and the Queen’s birthday!’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I said relieved. I gave him a huge hug. ‘I love you, you’re so brilliant.’

  ‘They have to put it through HR and everything, as a formality, but she says I can start in two weeks.’

  We walked back home floating on air. The baby is well, Adam has a very secure job, life felt perfect. As we rounded the corner to our house, we were still in a state of bliss.

  Then we saw a hearse parked outside. The faint strains of the ‘Teletubbies’ theme tune floated toward us. The driver’s door opened and Meryl’s head popped out, hair on end. She was half shouting to get our attention, and half singing the Teletubbies’ tune.

  ‘Adam, Coco! Dipsy, La-La, Po- o - over here, say hel-lo. Hello!’

  ‘Meryl. Are you okay?’ I asked as we hurried over. Wilfred was dressed in a nautical-themed outfit and strapped in his car seat with an iPad.

  ‘I’ve left Tony!’ she said dramatically. She slammed the door and came round to the passenger side. Her eyes were red from crying.

  ‘What? Why?’ I said.

  ‘I’ve told him that’s it, it’s… time for the teletubbies, time for the teletubbies!’

  ‘What have you told him?’ I said as Meryl pulled a tissue from her handbag and blew her nose.

  ‘I’ve told Tony it’s, time for tubby bye bye’s!’ Meryl yanked open the passenger door. ‘Wilfred don’t fast forward to the end. Sit nicely while I talk to ex-Auntie Coco and ex step-Uncle Adam!’

  Wilfred looked solemnly at us all and began to prod at his iPad.

  ‘Meryl, what have you told him?’ I asked trying to get her to focus.

  ‘I caught him in our local Budgens with, tubby custard yayyy! Yes lots of tubby custard!’

  ‘Meryl!’ I shouted, closing the door on the hearse. ‘Leave Wilfred. Tell me. What is going on?’

  Then she broke down completely. I left Adam to bring Wilfred, and helped Meryl indoors, pleading with Rocco not to jump up when we got in the hallway. I took her into the kitchen and we sat down at the breakfast bar.

  She told me through tears that Tony has been having an affair. He has recently made three trips to China to talk to a factory about making some ‘Only Fools and Horses’ three-wheeler themed coffins for their funeral business, (Meryl’s idea). There Tony met Mai Ling, the nineteen-year-old daughter of a local factory manager.

  ‘He’d told me about her, how helpful she was, translating for her father,’ said Meryl. ‘Tony even posted pictures of him with her on Facebook when he was away. I even ‘liked’ them.’

  ‘How can you prove Tony was having an affair with this Mai Ling?’ I asked.

  ‘We saw her in Budgen’s last week,’ she said bitterly. ‘Of course Tony pretended it was a coincidence… Then I found out she’s rented a flat above Budgen’s, so she could improve her English.’

  ‘Oh Meryl,’ I said giving her a hug. Adam came in carrying Wilfred who was now asleep.

  ‘It’s our Budgens, Coco,’ said Meryl. ‘It’s got a very nice bakery, they’ve always got fresh rolls, even on Easter Sunday. We go there for all our bits. It turns out Tony’s been going there for more bits than I realised.’ Meryl gave a heaving sob.

  ‘Shall I put Wilfred in the spare room to sleep?’ asked Adam.

  ‘Could we come and stay with you both?’ said Meryl. ‘I’ve got nowhere else to go.’

  Adam looked at me.

  ‘What about all your friends in Milton Keynes?’ I asked.

  ‘They’re fair weather friends Coco, you were right.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘But I could see you were thinking it, at Wilfred’s christening.’

  I was racking my brains to find an excuse.

  ‘I thought of driving over to you, straight away,’ she said softly. ‘You inspired me, with how you picked up the pieces, when you found Daniel in bed with that girl… you’ve rebuilt your life.’

  ‘Of course you can both stay,’ I said. Adam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  ‘For a few days,’ he added.

  ‘Thank you Coco, and you too Adam,’ she said.

  A little while later I came out with Adam to the hearse. He grabbed Meryl’s suitcases and I stuck a visitor’s permit on the dashboard.

  ‘Why did you say she could stay?’ hissed Adam.

  ‘I was trying to think of an excuse! You could have said something…’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know, that we were about to start remodelling for the baby?’

  ‘Yeah, that would have been a good one,’ he said wistfully.

  Adam took their cases up to the spare room, and I poured Meryl a large gin and tonic and ran her an equally large bath. When I came back down Adam was sitting on the carpet with Wilfred and playing quietly with some building bricks. I stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching them. That’s going to be us in eighteen weeks I thought and tried not to panic.

  ‘Is she okay?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s having a bath with a large G & T.’

  ‘Did you tell her not to lock the door… you know.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s suicidal,’ I said. ‘This is Tony we’re talking about.’

  Tuesday 27th March

  The landline rang just after midnight, which set Rocco off barking, and then Wilfred crying. Adam ran downstairs, and called up that it was for me. It was Angie’s daughter Chloe.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ I asked, when I’d waddled my way down to the phone.

  ‘Mum asked me to call you and say that Agent Fergie has just gone on pre-order through Amazon and iTunes,’ said Chloe. Meryl appeared at the top of the stairs in curlers and cold cream clutching Wilfred.

  ‘Ok thanks. No offence Chloe, but why isn’t Angie phoning me?’ I said.

  ‘She’s got a meeting tonight about Regina, there’s a big media deal on the horizon for Regina Battenberg,’ said Chloe.

  ‘So the book is now published and that’s it, no publicity, nothing?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know, I’ll have to talk to Mum,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Can you get her to ring me please?’ I said. The doorbell rang which set Rocco and Wilfred off again. I said I had to go, and put down the phone. Adam got to the front door before me, where Mr and Mrs Cohen were standing in their matching rain macs.

  ‘Oh, who are you?’ asked Mrs Cohen. Adam introduced himself and I came to the door beside him.

  ‘Hello Mrs Pinchard. Is your husband here?’

  ‘I am her husband,’ said Adam. The Cohens looked surprised.

  ‘But you’re so um, um youthful,’ said Mrs Cohen.

  ‘Adam is only six years younger than me,’ I said.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Now. We’ve just got back from France, with a car full of fine wines and cassoulet, and there is a hearse taking two-and-a-half spaces outside. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Yes, sorry it’s my sister-in-law,’ I said.

  ‘Well I hope she’s not dead inside?’ said Mr Cohen. He wasn’t joking.

  ‘No I’m here, very much alive,’ said Meryl coming down the stairs holding Wilfred. Mrs Cohen looked at him, confused.

  ‘Have you given birth already?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, earlier this evening,’ I said. ‘I’m still a bit sore; as you can see he weighs nearly two stone!’

  ‘Mrs Pinchard, there is no need to be rude,’ said Mrs Cohen. ‘I never understand what goes on at your house, the police raided you last year, several times your mother-in-law has been very foul mouthed, and when your son was a teenager there were so many half-naked men clambering out of his window that the wisteria was almost bald!’

  ‘You know what Mrs Cohen?’ I said. ‘Piss off. I’m done being polite. You can piss off. Go and enjoy your cassoulet and stick that French bread up Mr
Cohen’s arse, give him a treat.’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Mrs Cohen. ‘Trevor did you hear how she spoke to me?’

  ‘Of course he heard, he’s right there under your thumb!’

  ‘Well at least I can keep a man!’ said Mrs Cohen.

  ‘Right, outside,’ I said.

  ‘Okay, okay, okay ladies,’ said Adam sliding between us. ‘Let’s calm down. No one is going outside. I’ll come and move the hearse.’

  He grabbed the keys and herded the muttering Cohens away. I slammed the door.

  ‘That bloody woman,’ I said.

  ‘You’re my hero Coco,’ said Meryl. ‘There are so many people at the Rotary club I’d love to say that to.’

  Adam came back an hour later saying he’d parked the hearse in the driveway at Chris’s old house.

  Wednesday 28th March

  My mobile rang at nine thirty this morning. I was lying spread-eagled in bed whilst Adam and Rocco were pushed into the corner with no covers.

  ‘Morning sleepy head, this is your wake-up call, breakfast is in ten minutes,’ said Meryl. On cue a delicious smell of bacon reached us. Adam and Rocco both woke up and began sniffing the air.

  ‘Cooked breakfast?’ asked Adam his eyes full of wonder.

  When we came downstairs, Meryl was singing along to Radio 2. She had on her twinset and pearls, her hair was curled, and she wore a neatly pressed apron. Wilfred was sitting in his high chair watching the proceedings with big solemn blue eyes. The breakfast bar was laid out beautifully with my fancy china, fruit and preserves. She’d even disrobed the butter from its foil, where it was sitting on a plate, like a little block of gold.

  ‘Morning, take a seat. Tea?’ asked Meryl. Adam asked for coffee.

  ‘It’s just tea. I’ve made a pot of PG or you can have peppermint, which is very good for poorly tummies. How is your tummy Coco? Not constipated?’

  ‘No. Where is the coffee machine?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve packed it away Coco. Caffeine is bad for expectant mummies.’

  We sat down. She poured us each a cup of tea, and added milk from a jug.

  ‘Where’s the bread bin?’ I asked, noticing that everything was different.

  ‘By the toaster,’ she said.

  ‘Where is the toaster?’

  ‘By the plug next to the fridge.’

  ‘Why is it by the plug next to the fridge?’ On cue the toast popped up and Meryl put it in the little toast rack I never use. She then picked up her miniature Dyson and hoovered out the inside of the toaster.

  ‘Now you’ve got two plugs, and can get rid of your crumbs!’ she trilled.

  ‘You are a proper Martha Stewart,’ grinned Adam enjoying my annoyance.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said bashfully. ‘Besides, you’ve got more in common with her than me. You’ve also been to prison.’

  I suppressed a grin as Adam looked annoyed. Meryl went to the oven and, returning with two plates, laid out a full English breakfast before us.

  ‘Now have the two of you got anything dark you need washing?’ she asked taking off her apron. We shook our heads like two little children.

  ‘Nothing red? No red knickers Coco?’

  ‘No, my red knickers are safely in the drawer, poised for a sexy occasion in the future,’ I said.

  Meryl laughed and went off to scour the house for errant garments.

  ‘Does she cook a full English every morning?’ said Adam.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I’m not cooking you breakfast,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not asking you to!’

  Wilfred stared at us both and then said, ‘Red knickers!’

  I remembered my call from Chloe last night and logged on to Amazon. Agent Fergie has gone to #65,970 on pre-order.

  ‘That’s not bad,’ said Adam seeing my face.

  ‘It’s not great,’ I said. I tried Angie again, but she was busy, blah, blah, blah.

  Friday 30th March

  Agent Fergie is #67,089.

  I don’t understand why. I’ve bought a copy, so has Adam, and Rosencrantz, and Oscar, and their housemate Wayne… Surely this would have propelled it higher?

  Meryl has spent the last two days cleaning my house from top to bottom. She’s done the kind of organising I only read about in magazines. My pastas are now sorted in glass jars, I have a peg bag, I also have a cloth bag for my used plastic bags. I’m the one who should be nesting, but maybe Meryl is doing it for me. I googled nesting-by-proxy but nothing came up. Maybe I’m just a lazy cow.

  Saturday 31st March

  Agent Fergie is #71,480.

  However, I think it could soon be much higher. Chloe just phoned. I’m booked in to do This Morning with Philip Schofield and Holly Willoughby next week! Chloe knows someone on the production team and has pulled some strings. I’m so excited.

  Tony hasn’t rung Meryl.

  April

  Sunday 1st April

  The morning began so beautifully. I woke, cosy and warm next to Adam. The sun was pouring in through the window, diffused to a warm glow by the curtains. I’d slept deliciously and woke up feeling rested, like a normal human being. Morning sickness was a distant memory and I felt full of life. Rocco was asleep on his back between us, his four legs up in the air. Adam lay beside him, equally sprawled. The bedroom door opened slowly and Wilfred peeped round it shyly. I smiled, and he toddled in wearing his pyjamas. He stopped to stare at Adam sleeping, then reached up and traced the outline of his nose and lips. Adam didn’t stir.

  ‘Morning,’ I whispered. Wilfred lifted his hand and gave me a little wave.

  ‘Is Mummy up?’ He shook his head solemnly.

  ‘Do you want me to make you some breakfast?’

  Wilfred shrugged.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ I asked. Wilfred nodded, reached up to Adam’s bedside table and pulled off one of his job application forms and started to push it into his mouth.

  We’ve discovered Wilfred likes to eat paper. I wondered why we didn’t seem to have had any junk mail over the past few days. Then Meryl told me that Wilfred has been eating it off the mat.

  ‘No, no, no,’ let’s get some cereal,’ I said pulling the form out of his mouth. I scooped him up and held him to one side, perched on my growing tummy.

  ‘Is that comfy?’ I asked. Wilfred nodded again, seriously.

  I was in the kitchen making tea, with Wilfred sitting in his high chair, when Meryl came down. She was wearing a huge towelling bathrobe, she had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was wet and combed back flat. This was unprecedented. Meryl never comes downstairs unless she’s fully dressed with coiffed hair and pearls. She had her phone in her hand, and I could see she’d been crying.

  ‘Morning,’ I said cautiously. ‘You fancy a cuppa?’

  She nodded and slumped into a chair.

  ‘Wilfred is still eating paper,’ I said, but Meryl seemed distracted.

  ‘That slimy toad,’ she hissed. ‘Tony has just RSVP’d to the Twelvetrees.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Mark and Sandra Twelvetrees. They’re both conservative councillors, and every year they hold an Easter Egg Hunt and finger buffet at their house in the country. Tony has RSVP’d - and he’s taking Mai Ling! Chinese whore!’

  ‘Little ears can hear,’ I said indicating Wilfred.

  ‘She’s twenty-four, Coco! How can I compete with that?’

  I’d never seen Meryl so close to the edge before.

  ‘Coco,’ she said gulping nervously. ‘I feel I trust you, and I’d like your opinion on something.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. Meryl gulped and rose to her feet, with her back to Wilfred, she closed her eyes, untied her bathrobe, and yanked it open. She was stark naked underneath!

  ‘Tell me, what do you think?’ she asked. Adam walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Whoa!’ he said covering his eyes. Meryl screamed and pulled her robe shut.

  ‘Adam, what are you doing?’ I asked. />
  ‘What am I doing? What are you doing?’

  Meryl turned crimson and ran from the kitchen. ‘Is this an April Fool’s?’ he added.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid,’ I said. ‘Watch Wilfred for a minute.’ I came upstairs and knocked on the door to the spare room.

  ‘Go away,’ said Meryl.

  ‘Meryl, please let me in…’ After a moment she opened the door. I came and perched on the bed. She was sat with her back to me, brushing her wet hair. She couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror.

  ‘I want to die Coco, I actually want to die.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ I said. ‘And Adam is fine. He once walked in on Ethel when she was on the loo, which was far worse, believe me.’

  Meryl smiled weakly.

  ‘What made you flash me in the kitchen?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t have friends like Marika and Chris.’

  ‘I don’t flash at Marika and Chris.’

  ‘But you’re open with them. You can talk about things. Look at me. I’m old. Alone. I’ve lost my figure and I’m a fool. Now you and Adam are just going to think about my decrepit naked body every time you see me…’ She started to sob. ‘I’m a single middle-aged mother. No one is going to want me.’

  ‘Meryl. Meryl, look at me,’ I said. She turned to me with red eyes. I took a deep breath, stood up, and yanked open my robe, where underneath I was naked too. She gasped.

  ‘Now we’re even,’ I grinned closing it. Meryl gulped.

  ‘Your bosoms, er, well they’re blooming,’ she said, as if they were Hydrangeas at the Chelsea Flower Show.

  ‘Yours are pretty good too.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Really. You’ve kept your figure Meryl.’

  She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘And what about?’ she bit her lip.

  ‘What about what?’

  ‘My down below…’