A Very Coco Christmas Read online

  Dad brought my case in behind him and she jabbed her finger at our feet and mouthed SHOES.

  ‘What about her shoes?’ I muttered but Dad grinned at me so we complied.

  ‘Yes Yvonne, do bring your electric carving knife… we’re so looking forward to seeing you and Adrian, and Karen hasn’t stopped talking about how excited she is to see Kenneth.’

  ‘When did I say that?’ I muttered to Dad. Mum shot me daggers and lurched down the hall with the phone, the long wire following obediently into the living room as she pulled the door shut behind her.

  ‘What a nice welcome,’ I said.

  ‘She means well, it’s a lot to organise… Christmas. And it’s the busiest time at the shop,’ said Dad taking off his hat and hanging it up. ‘You can still help out on Christmas Eve with all the Turkey orders?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  ‘We’ve missed you around here,’ he said, kissing me on the forehead. Mum came out of the living room with the telephone and replaced it on the hall table.

  ‘Yvonne and Adrian say hello, and Kenneth sent a special hello to you,’ said Mum all twinkly-eyed. I pulled my face into a grin.

  ‘How is he?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, he’s doing wonderfully at Keele. Top of his class of course, and top of the athletics club.’

  ‘Is he still as boring as hell?’

  ‘You could do far worse than Kenneth Rosebury,’ said Mum, giving me the once over. ‘Oh Karen…’ She patted me on the rump. ‘What have you been eating? Your grandmother’s big bottom seems to have skipped a generation.’

  I shot an indignant look at Dad, but Mum carried on breezily saying,

  ‘We’ve had the whole house redecorated. It’s all Laura Ashley.’

  The decor was far too much, the floral patterns looming until they seemed to crush me. I took my coat off and hung it beside Dad’s and we went through to the living room. It looked beautiful with a huge Christmas tree by the bay window, decorated with tinsel and baubles. A fire was burning and hung above the fireplace were sprigs of holly and our three Christmas stockings.

  ‘It’s much nicer in here,’ I said.

  ‘Well we haven’t done this room yet,’ said Mum. She went to the record player, clicked on the turntable and placed the needle on a record. There was a crackle and the hushed warm harmony of Silent Night filled the room.

  ‘Oh. Now isn’t this elegant… Let’s have a sherry, Bill,’ she said. On cue Dad went to the sideboard and there was a soft chink as he pulled out three sherry glasses. ‘I think you’re grown up enough now for a little Emva Cream,’ said Mum. I longed for a pint of lager with Daniel and suddenly had an image of him pressed against me whilst a storm raged outside my little attic room.

  ‘Are you too warm darling?’ asked Mum sitting on the sofa. ‘I didn’t realise you’d come back to us… so well insulated. I wouldn’t have lit the fire.’

  ‘No I’m fine,’ I said gritting my teeth.

  ‘So tell us all about Aberystwyth…’

  I felt a screaming inside me. I wished I could tell them the truth, that I’ve got drunk and been skinny dipping in the freezing sea at night, that I know what a man looks like naked, and I’ve ignored Mum and won’t be a virgin on my wedding night…

  ‘What’s Wales like?’ she asked. ‘We don’t seem to get much time on the phone with you.’ I bit my lip. I wanted to at least tell them about Daniel.

  ‘I’ve made some good friends,’ I said. ‘Tania, Tanya and Claire…’

  ‘Yes, and they’re from London?’ said Mum.

  ‘Tania is from Highgate, Tanya from Chelsea and Claire is Scottish, from Fife.’

  ‘Well… two out of free aint bad,’ said Mum doing a terrible cockney accent then laughing at her own joke. ‘Well, it’s good they’re local. I worried that you’d want lots of Welsh people over to stay,’ she added in a relieved tone.

  ‘What’s wrong with Welsh people?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing, if they stay in Wales,’ said Mum.

  ‘Evelyn,’ warned Dad.

  ‘Well, I don’t know why you decided to be so far away,’ said Mum.

  I bit my lip again, shouldn’t it be obvious, you silly cow? To get away from you!

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re having a lovely time,’ said Mum. ‘Now. We’ve lots to organise over the next couple of days. I missed you helping me with the tree.’ She got up and crossed to the sideboard, pulling out a hand-painted glass bauble with Karen written across it in gold paint.

  ‘I saved this for you, and the Fairy,’ she said. I took it and went to the tree. As I reached up to hang it, the word Karen caught in the light.

  ‘I need to discuss something with you both,’ I said pulling the bauble away from the branch I’d chosen. They looked at me, confused, as if I’d deviated from the script that we’ve acted out every year since I was little.

  ‘People at university… (why couldn’t I just say Daniel!)… have given me a nickname,’ I told them. ‘They call me Coco and I like it, so I wondered if you’d call me Coco too.’

  ‘What?’ said Mum, ignoring her cardinal rule that you should always say pardon.

  ‘At university,’ I repeated carefully, ‘people have given me the nickname Coco and I like it, a lot.’

  This was crazy. I felt as though I was telling them I was a lesbian or something. Dad was looking to Mum for his next cue in this new script. Mum, who is rather good at improvisation when it involves being a bitch, responded.

  ‘Coco? What a horrible nickname. No, no, no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘I’m an adult and it’s important to me!’ I could hear my voice rising in pitch and volume. I really wanted to tell them about Daniel but my courage was draining away.

  ‘What? Important to you to sound like a French prostitute!’ Mum stood up. I looked at Dad but he was making a move to go, draining the last of his glass.

  ‘I’d better get to the shop and sort out some turkeys,’ he muttered.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done, Karen! You’ve ruined our Christmas tradition.’

  ‘It’s Coco!’ I shouted. I was now furious, as much with myself as my mother. She stalked across the room, grabbed the fairy and impaled the poor thing on the top of the tree.

  ‘There, happy now?’ she snapped.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ I said.

  ‘You are. What’s wrong with being Karen? It’s a beautiful name. You know you’re named after Karen Carpenter, although I wish you’d take a leaf out of her book and watch what you eat…’

  ‘You’re horrible!’ I shouted.

  ’I’m only saying it because I care! You’ve come back a different person. I hope you’re going to pull yourself together when the Rosebury’s are here for Christmas lunch.’

  ‘My name is now Coco,’ I repeated.

  ‘Oh no it’s not,’

  ‘I’m eighteen now, you can’t stop me!’ I shouted.

  ‘But I can stop your allowance… and there won’t be any more swanning around Wales like a French prostitute!’ she shouted back.

  ‘AAGH!’ I shouted and stormed out slamming the living room door. I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it up the stairs two at a time and once in my room I slammed that door too.

  Sunday 22nd December

  10.00 am My mother has sent me to Coventry. Well not literally, although I’d quite like to spend Christmas away from HER. No, I overheard her telling Dad after breakfast that she is sending me to Coventry for a couple of days. She won’t be talking to me. How bloody Famous Five can you get? I swear they were the only books that ignorant woman ever read out loud with me at bedtime. Oh, and that Joan Collins book on how to turn yourself into Joan Collins.

  I wish I hadn’t left my handbag on that stupid train, then I’d have money and I could go somewhere. Coventry, maybe. And of course I’d have photos of Daniel to look at and his phone number. I swear I’m starting to forget what he looks like – and he hasn’t phoned. Mum won’t keep the phone book or the yellow pa
ges in the hall because she thinks it looks common. Oh! The phone is ringing, it might be Daniel!

  * * *

  10.30 am It was Tania and Tanya from a phone box in Highgate. They just met up for coffee and are delighted because they’ve both been told they can have nose jobs from Father Christmas. I made a joke, asking how Father Christmas can fit a nose job down the chimney but the line was bad and they misunderstood and thought I was saying their noses were too huge to fit down the chimney. They hung up on me and then didn’t pick up when I called back. So now my new friends hate me too.

  * * *

  12.00 pm Just back from an expedition to find a phone book. Four phone boxes on Marylebone High Street were devoid of phone books and stank of wee. Finally found one in Hanover Square, the park off Oxford Street. There are six Pinchard’s in the phone book. Using some coppers I found in my moneybox I rang them all; none of them knew a Daniel Pinchard.

  Now I’m paranoid Daniel gave me a false surname. I’m racking my brains to think if I’ve seen anything official with his name on it. I haven’t.

  * * *

  12.15 pm I have! His jacket! His mother had sewn ‘DANIEL PINCHARD’ in the back of his jacket. Wonder what his mother is like? She can’t be worse than mine.

  * * *

  4.30 pm Phone rang again. I hoped it was Daniel, Tania or Tanya, but it was Claire calling from Scotland. She also hates being back at home. Her parents sound even stricter than mine. Her father runs a kilt making business and with Hogmanay coming up she has to help out in their shop for the next fortnight. I told her that I have to get up at four in the morning and help out in Dad’s butcher’s shop on Christmas Eve, but it didn’t sound as bad. She wished me a happy Christmas and promised that she would talk to Tania and Tanya about the nose down the chimney mix up.

  * * *

  8.00 pm Am in bed surrounded by my childhood toys: dolls house, wooden horse, Sindy dolls etc. Why did my mother put them all back whilst I was away? Have had a horrible thought, what if I fall down the stairs and end up an invalid… I’ll be stuck in this room for ever surrounded by my toys from childhood. No friends, no Daniel, just my mother bringing up soup on a tray… Her shoulder pads getting bigger and bigger until she has to negotiate doors sideways. I can’t sleep. I wonder what Daniel is doing.

  * * *

  10.00 pm I just screamed so loudly that Dad came rushing in.

  ‘What is it love?’ he asked blearily. I told him I’d had a nightmare, and he went back to bed. I was too embarrassed to tell him that I rolled over and lent on my glow-worm and its huge face lit up scaring me half to death.

  Monday 23rd December

  The doorbell rang early in the afternoon and I heard a familiar voice start to sing Good Kind Wenceslas. I came down the stairs two at a time and Daniel was standing in the open doorway his dark handsome face framed by his gorgeous long hair. He was singing beautifully, his voice carrying through the cold still air. I came to the bottom of the steps and joined Mum who was rapt with attention, actually clasping her pearls in joy. I’m sure if she’d known that this was the boy I had spent many a night lying underneath she wouldn’t have been so joyful, but I just watched, grinning knowingly at him as he entertained my mother.

  When he came to the end of the carol there was a brief silence as his voice faded, until we became aware of the sounds from outside once more, the cars rushing past at the end of the road, a bus hissing and roaring as it changed gear.

  ‘Thank you, young man,’ said Mum. ‘What a lovely rendition of Good King Wenceslas.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m studying for a degree in music.’

  ‘How impressive,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve always thought it’s a very broad subject, classical, modern…’

  ‘I’m studying classical, the history of music. Do you know how Good King Wenceslas liked his pizza?’ said Daniel.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Mum.

  ‘Deep and crisp and even,’ grinned Daniel. I burst out laughing but Mum looked blank.

  ‘It was a joke, Mum,’ I said cringing.

  ‘Oh, yes… Look I don’t usually do this, but come into the hall a moment out of the cold.’ Daniel came in and wiped his feet on the mat. Mum closed the door behind him.

  ‘Karen just stay here with…’

  ‘Daniel.’

  ‘Just stay here with Daniel whilst I find him something to be on his way with.’

  She adjusted her cardigan and went off down the hall to the kitchen. The door swung closed behind her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said thrilled to see him.

  ‘You didn’t ring me Coco, and when I phoned you, your mum kept saying you weren’t in.’

  ‘Did she now,’ I said darkly. ‘I thought you’d gone off me… I lost my handbag on the train with your number in and…’

  It was odd and thrilling to see Daniel standing in the hallway of my house in London. His presence was sexy and dangerous against the pastel flocked wallpaper. He leant in and kissed me. His mouth was a mixture of hot and cold and he tasted of cigarettes and sweets. His stubble rubbed against my chin and I felt warmth flood through me. We jumped apart as the kitchen door opened and Mum came back. This is ridiculous I thought, and I stood up straight in preparation to tell her that Daniel was my boyfriend.

  ‘Here we are, I’ve popped in some vegetables we’ve got spare.’ She handed Daniel a package wrapped up in the pale pink of the Financial Times and tied with string. It was a food parcel. Everything about it screamed charity.

  ‘Um… Thanks,’ said Daniel trying to hide his embarrassment.

  ‘I thought it was the least we could do, in the cold, well – it should keep you going.’ Daniel looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Mum leaned around him and opened the latch on the door.

  ‘Do you have a phone number?’ I said.

  ‘Karen!’ shrilled Mum.

  ‘What? He’s a musician, we might know people who need a carol singer…’

  ‘I don’t think so, Karen.’

  Now the sound of his beautiful voice had faded, Mum saw she had an oik in a leather jacket perilously close to her Laura Ashley wallpaper.

  ‘It’s Catford 67932,’ said Daniel quickly.

  ‘Catford 67932,’ I repeated.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said and he walked off down the steps trying to regain his composure.

  ‘Oh Karen,’ said Mum closing the door. ‘He’s nice to look at but you could do so much better. Kenneth, for instance.’

  ‘Why are you so obsessed with Kenneth? Do you fancy him?’

  ‘If I were lucky enough to be young like you I’d be thrilled to have the pick of an eligible young man like Kenneth. And his father Adrian is a meat distributor and Yvonne tells me the Masonic Lodge are interested in him.’

  I started to tell her about Daniel but the phone rang, and it was one of her reptilian Joan Collins friends who she talked to for nearly two hours. Which was long enough for me to lose my courage.

  However, Daniel still loves me!

  Tuesday 24th December – Christmas Eve

  We had to be up at three-thirty this morning to have the butcher’s shop open to cope with the Christmas Eve rush. At four a queue had started to form outside in the dark.

  I don’t know why Dad asks Mum to help out, she just upsets everyone. She’s always rude to Tom and Liam the two Saturday lads who come in to help, and she insists on wearing catering whites with full makeup and her best jewellery. Dad and I were both hoping there wouldn’t be a repeat of last year when she lost her gold bracelet up a Turkey. Having to root around in four hundred turkeys’ arses while she screamed the place down was not fun.

  From the moment the shop opened we argued about everything. I wanted to play Capital FM for the Christmas music, but Mum wanted a tape of traditional Christmas carols, we bickered about who should take the money and who should wrap the turkeys, which escalated into raised voices about how the turkeys should be wrapped. At this point Dad came o
ut in front of the long queue and said in a low voice.

  ‘You two need to behave yourselves!’

  ‘What do you mean you two?’ said Mum shocked. ‘She’s a teenage girl, I’m…’

  ‘You’re just as bad,’ he hissed. A truce was called for a few minutes until a lady came to the counter who looked in a real state. She had a kind face but her clothes were tatty and her hair unkempt. When she opened her purse to pay, she was five pence short.

  ‘You need to come back when you can pay the full balance,’ said Mum condescendingly. The woman’s eyes filled with tears. I had some change in my pocket so I pulled a five pence piece out and dropped it in the till.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ I said.

  The woman smiled gratefully at me, and went off with her bag bulging with turkey. Mum snapped and grabbed me by the back of my catering jacket and dragged me past the queue of customers and into the walk-in freezer.

  ‘Get off me!’ I said in shock.

  ‘Karen. Don’t you dare do that again,’ she said.

  ‘It’s five pence, the difference between someone eating and not eating on Christmas day!’

  ‘What if we did that for everyone? We’d go bust! Your grandfather started this business with nothing, nothing! He worked his fingers to the bone so you can have all the things you take for granted. Your nice clothes, and silly records, and that handbag which cost a fortune which you lost on public transport!’

  ‘Do you care about the poor?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘You’re a liar. You thought that woman out there was dirt, and you thought that carol singer yesterday was too!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Daniel. The carol singer… You gave him a load of old vegetables when you should have given him money, he’s hugely talented and funny and…’

  ‘That’s enough!’ she snapped. ‘Now pull yourself together and get out there and start behaving.’