A Very Coco Christmas Read online

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘’Ow about a tin of condensed milk for the pud? An’ I think I’ve got some pickled walnuts in the back of the sideboard…’

  ‘Yes, look can I speak to Daniel please?’ I asked, realising that sooner or later Mum would spot the wire for the phone and hoist me out of the cupboard to make brandy butter. The sound of Jingle Bells ceased and Daniel was summoned to the phone.

  ‘Merry Christmas, sexy,’ he said.

  ‘Look, Daniel,’ I said. ‘I’m so excited about you all coming, but I have to warn you… there’s no other way to say it. My mother is a snob, she looks down on everyone and she’s got this awful couple coming called Yvonne and Adrian, with their equally awful son Kenneth who Mum seems to want me to marry. Please just promise you’ll still love me afterwards whatever happens?’

  ‘Course I will. You’re my Coco. Trust me I can charm the pants off any woman.’

  ‘Daniel!’

  ‘That came out wrong, your pants are the only ones I want to charm off.’

  Then I heard his mother shouting, ‘’Ere Danny ’ave a sniff of these pickled walnuts, are they meant to look like this?’

  ‘Right, I’d better go, see you at twelve,’ he said. ‘Love you.’

  ‘Love you too,’ I said. I wasn’t hopeful about lunch.

  * * *

  The Roseburys rang the doorbell at eleven-thirty. Mum’s high heels appeared first as she came running down the stairs. She was wearing the white off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater Dad had given her plus the entire contents of her jewellery box.

  ‘Yvonne!’ she cried opening the door where the Roseburys stood. They stamped the snow off their shoes and came in bearing expensive wine, vintage port, a huge piece of Stilton and a giant bouquet of flowers.

  I dreaded what Mum would say when Mrs. Pinchard handed over the condensed milk and tinned fruit.

  ‘Oh! Thank you!’ cried Mum. Dad helped Yvonne out of her coat. She was wearing an identical off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater in red.

  ‘You got the Nicole Farhi in cashmere too!’ squealed Yvonne as she and Mum admired each other.

  ‘Great minds think alike Bill,’ said Adrian gripping my father’s hand. Both he and Kenneth were dressed in shirts and ties with dreadful knitted Christmas jumpers.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Bill,’ said Adrian pulling out a cigar.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Adrian!’ said Dad doing the same. They swapped cigars and held them to their noses.

  ‘This is the life, Bill, rolled on a Cuban virgin’s thigh,’ said Adrian raising his eyebrows lasciviously. Kenneth stood moodily by the door.

  ‘Karen, say hello to Kenneth and take his coat,’ parroted Mum.

  ‘Hello. Coat please,’ I said holding out my arm.

  ‘Not like you’re working in the coat room of a public house… You’ve got her all flustered Kenneth,’ said Mum. Kenneth muttered something neutral.

  ‘I’ve got my boyfriend coming,’ I announced loudly.

  ‘Oh! Boyfriend indeed,’ said Adrian, going all bug-eyed at the thought of me being with a boy. ‘What does your father think of this?’

  ‘Well, Adrian, he’s going to have to come through me first,’ said Dad being all comedy macho.

  ‘Oh Kenneth, do give Coco your coat, don’t stand on ceremony,’ smiled Mum. He handed me his jacket and they all went into the living room. I had to admit, it looked great. The room was candlelit, with fairy lights twinkling on the tree, the fire was burning and holly hung around the mantelpiece. Nat King Cole gently crooned in the background encouraging us all to have a merry little Christmas.

  ‘Oh Evelyn your tree is beautiful,’ said Yvonne. Mum did a coquettish little laugh and zipped out, returning with a silver tray with champagne and glasses.

  ‘Bill would you?’ asked Mum. Dad started to open the bottle of Moet & Chandon.

  ‘Shampoo eh? Business must be good…’ grinned Adrian. Mum subtly twisted the bottle round so the label was showing, and Dad popped the cork. As we clinked glasses Mum started going on about how I’d invited some people over at the last minute, some friends who were having trouble at Christmas. She made it sound like they were coming to us as a soup kitchen!

  ‘It’s my boyfriend’s family,’ I clarified.

  ‘Well, just someone from university,’ said Mum airily.

  ‘No. I like Daniel a lot,’ I said.

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ said Mum through gritted teeth.

  ‘You don’t get to tell me who I can go out with,’ I growled.

  ‘Bill!’ shrilled Mum. ‘Why don’t you take Adrian outside and enjoy those cigars.’ The two dads went off gleefully. ‘Kenneth, I’m going to show your mother my new Le Creuset range – I got it last week and Delia swears by it. Why don’t you talk to Karen about what you’re getting up to at Keele.’

  Mum ushered Yvonne out leaving Kenneth and me standing awkwardly together.

  ‘So… Is Delia your housekeeper?’ asked Kenneth after a pause.

  ‘She means Delia Smith, you know? The television cook?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Kenneth nodded, there were droplets of sweat forming on his upper lip.

  ‘Do you want to take that jumper off?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he snapped.

  ‘Well you don’t look it, at least move away from the fire.’ He slammed his glass down on the table and yanked his jumper over his head. Underneath he was wearing a starched white shirt and tie.

  ‘Better?’ I smiled.

  ‘Yes.’

  He folded the jumper up and laid it on the arm of the sofa. We stood in silence.

  ‘Can I just say that I really do have a boyfriend, and despite what our parents want…’

  ‘You can stop flattering yourself,’ he said. ‘You’re hardly my type.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well,’ he said sneeringly looking me up and down.

  ‘You can piss off!’ I snapped. I went to leave but the living room door opened softly and my mother and Yvonne poked their heads inside.

  ‘How are you two getting along?’ asked Mum. Yvonne was standing beside her looking equally hopeful.

  ‘Oh wonderful,’ I said. Kenneth gave me a look.

  ‘Karen! Charge Kenneth’s glass,’ snapped Mum as if this would make us fall hopelessly in love. They both left the room. I grabbed the glass out of his hand and went to the sideboard. I began pouring more champagne when, through the window into the back garden, I saw a young guy poking his head up over the fence. His hair was gelled up and blow-dried into a Simon Le Bon style, and he had an orange scarf twirled theatrically round his neck. He caught sight of me, stared angrily for a moment then his head vanished.

  ‘God, how long does it take you to pour a drink?’ said Kenneth sarcastically.

  ‘There was some guy trying to get over the fence,’ I said, handing him his champagne.

  ‘Was it your boyfriend? Trying to escape?’ he smirked.

  ‘No this boy was trying to climb in actually…’

  Kenneth became rather tense.

  ‘Hang on. What did he look like?’

  ‘I dunno. Blond, Simon Le Bon haircut…’ Kenneth gulped and gripped his glass harder, and then the doorbell rang. It was Daniel. He was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt open at the neck. His silver St. Christopher glinted against a glimpse of hairy chest. He looked gorgeous.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Coco,’ he said leaning in for a kiss.

  ‘Where are your Mum and Meryl?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, um. They’re just parking the car,’ he grinned.

  ‘There are loads of spaces out the front, aren’t there?’

  He shrugged oddly and I took him through to the living room where everyone was now standing with drinks. Mum was a little annoyed at how warmly he was welcomed in. Daniel even called my Dad Sir, which earned him several brownie points. Twenty minutes of sipping and chatting passed before Mum started making noises about the dinner being ruined.
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  ‘Where did your mum park, Daniel? Tottenham?’ I asked. Then the doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be them,’ said Daniel, obviously relieved. Mrs. Pinchard and Meryl were standing on the doorstep with their hair slightly on end as if they’d emerged from a tussle. Meryl smoothed her hair nervously. Mum appeared with Dad, Adrian and Yvonne and they all said an awkward hello.

  ‘’Ooh, yer jumper’s slipped,’ said Mrs. Pinchard pulling Mum’s off-the-shoulder firmly back on-the-shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t want one of yer boobies popping out… well not until we’ve lit the Christmas pud!’

  ‘It’s supposed to be like this,’ said Mum, yanking it back down.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs. Pinchard noticing Yvonne. ‘The fashion these days!’ Dad helped Meryl and Ethel out of their winter coats. Meryl seemed very agitated and barely said hello.

  ‘Oooh, ’ere iss very nice,’ said Ethel taking off her headscarf and leaning in to peer up between the bannisters. ‘’Ave you got the upstairs or the downstairs?’

  ‘The whole house belongs to us!’ said Mum, horrified that Ethel might think we only rented – and only part of the house at that. She pulled a face at Yvonne and pulled her into the kitchen. I was left to take everyone into the dining room.

  ‘Did you find a parking space?’ I asked.

  ‘What? Oh yeah, yeah…’ said Mrs. Pinchard. A look passed between her Meryl and Daniel, but I didn’t get a chance to press them further because Mum appeared and banged her little gong.

  ‘Christmas lunch is served,’ she said.

  ‘Ooh iss just like them Rank films! You got a man in a loincloth ’oo can do that again!’ said Mrs. Pinchard, cackling.

  The table was laid out beautifully. I was put between Kenneth and Daniel, and opposite me, Ethel and Meryl were squashed in beside Adrian and Yvonne. Meryl muttered something in Mrs. Pinchard’s ear and made as if to get up but Ethel hissed,

  ‘Sit down… Ooh the grub smells lovely!’ she added loudly, pulling the ring off her napkin and tucking it into the neck of her blouse. Meryl reluctantly did the same and so did Daniel. Dad came through with the turkey steaming on a huge platter. Yvonne followed with the plates, and Mum rolled in the hostess trolley and began to unload everything onto the table. There was an awesome amount of food. I saw a look shoot between Mum and Yvonne when they saw how my guests were wearing their napkins.

  Mrs. Pinchard livened up the proceedings, cutting through the formal atmosphere and encouraging everyone to pull their crackers, put on the silly hats and read out the jokes. My mother was not happy with this. Halfway through another knock knock joke the front doorbell rang.

  ‘Get that would you, Karen?’ said Mum. When I opened the front door the Simon Le Bon guy was standing angrily on the doorstep in his orange scarf.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘Karen,’ I said. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Chris,’ said the boy pacing up and down and staring past me into the hallway. ‘Is Kenneth in there?’

  ‘Yes. Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I don’t know anymore,’ he said dramatically. ‘I thought I was someone special… Now he’s here. With you.’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Oh I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. Go and enjoy your romantic Christmas lunch.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Ask Kenneth!’ shrilled Chris and with a flick of his scarf he turned on his heel and marched off down the steps. I closed the door, confused.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Mum when I came back in.

  ‘This really odd chap. He said he knew you, Kenneth, his name’s Chris. He was the one peering over the fence earlier.’

  Kenneth choked on his sprouts.

  ‘Chris? Chris Cheshire? Blond, about this high?’ he asked coughing.

  ‘I suppose so,’ I said.

  ‘That’s Lord Cheshire’s son,’ said Yvonne proudly whacking Kenneth on the back. ‘Lord Cheshire who owns the napkin empire… He’s a friend of Kenneth’s. A very good friend. In fact, Kenneth has been to Cheshire Hall no less than three times!’

  ‘Oh Karen, can you see who Kenneth is friends with?’ said Mum. She then turned to Daniel’s mum who slurping mashed swede off her desert spoon.

  ‘So. Mrs. Pinchard,’ she said baring her teeth and going in for the kill. ‘Where do you work?’

  ‘I’m a cleaner, at Catford Police station, and call me Ethel,’ she said chewing.

  ‘Oh a cleaner,’ said Mum. ‘Well I suppose someone has to do it.’

  ‘Yeah. It can be a mucky job,’ she said oblivious to the sarcasm. ‘Do you know, we ’ad a couple of lads in for GBH the night before last. Lary as you like. The filthy buggers went on dirty protest! Urgh. You should’ve seen it… Ooh – that reminds me, Meryl love. You left that yule log in a carrier bag in the hall.’

  Meryl jumped up and practically ran out. There was silence, just the sound of knives and forks on china.

  ‘’Ere, Adrian, iss come to me now. I knew I recognised you,’ said Mrs. Pinchard fixing her gaze on him.

  ‘Ooh, I love a mystery,’ he grinned.

  ‘Actual Bodily Harm weren’t it? You were mixed up in that Millwall business last month. I cleaned out the cell they put you in.’

  Adrian’s face dropped.

  ‘What? Oh, no that wasn’t me.’

  ‘Yes! You and yer mate got arrested for peeing in a post box after the match. Then you slapped that copper round the chops.’

  Mum and Dad looked at Adrian in dismay.

  ‘It must be someone else, Mrs. Pinchard, you sound like you don’t come north of the river often,’ said Mum nervously.

  ‘No ’e came south, I never forget a face,’ said Mrs. Pinchard pointing at Adrian with a roasted parsnip.

  ‘Well, ha ha, it was just a silly thing that got out of hand at a football match,’ said Adrian.

  ‘You smacked a copper in the gob, that ’aint just silly. When’s your court date?’ said Mrs. Pinchard.

  We all froze at the table.

  ‘OOOH! You’re such a thug!’ screamed Yvonne suddenly out of character. ‘I knew people would find out! You’re strutting around the place like Lord Muck with your bloody cigars!’ She threw her napkin down and left the room in tears. Adrian jumped up.

  ‘Thank you very much!’ hissed Adrian and followed Yvonne.

  ‘What? I’m not the one ’oo did in that copper,’ said Mrs. Pinchard to the horrified table. ‘Nice lad ’e is too…’

  At that moment we heard a scream from Yvonne.

  ‘Oh Bill, do you think Adrian’s attacking Yvonne?’ asked Mum in horror. We all jumped up and rushed into the hall. The front door was open and, bizarrely, Meryl was staggering in under the weight of John Paul Belmondo, the Christmas turkey. His huge wings were flapping as she tried to keep hold of him. Yvonne was screaming in terror.

  ‘What the bloody ’ell are you doin’ Meryl!’ shouted Mrs. Pinchard.

  ‘He was scratching the upholstery of my car!’ she said apologetically. ‘Will someone help me carry him through to the back garden!’

  ‘What in God’s name?’ said Mum.

  ‘We found ’im ’alfway up the Old Kent Road, I couldn’t leave ’im! I thought ’e’d be alright in the car while we ’ad lunch!’ said Mrs. Pinchard. ‘It were Coco ’oo lost ’im in the first place!’ she added.

  Meryl lost her grip on John Paul and he jumped out of her arms and into the hall. Yvonne screamed in terror and Adrian kicked out at him. John Paul quite rightly got upset and started to hiss and spit with his wings flapping. They scarpered into the dining room, the angry turkey half running half flying after them.

  We followed and found Yvonne and Adrian standing at the far end of the dining table. John Paul Belmondo was on the table with his impressive wingspan fully deployed, beak down and advancing towards them knocking over glasses. Yvonne’s lipsticked mouth was stretched wide in horror and then John Paul charged forward and they all disappeared
under the table.

  ‘I won’t take this!’ shouted a voice. We turned to find Chris, the Simon Le Bon guy standing in the dining room doorway. He must have come in through the open front door.

  ‘I love you Kenneth Rosebury,’ he shrilled. ‘I deserve to eat Christmas lunch with you. I refuse to be a dirty secret! Let’s stop creeping around. Let’s be out and proud!’

  No-one took much notice as there were terrible sounds coming from under the dining table.

  ‘My mother’s being attacked by an eagle!’ shouted Kenneth.

  ‘It’s a bloody turkey you prat!’ shouted Mrs. Pinchard as Chris dived under the table and managed to wrangle John Paul just enough so that Yvonne and Adrian could escape.

  * * *

  An hour later I was standing on the doorstep with Daniel and Chris. Meryl and Ethel had managed to sedate John Paul with a teaspoon of cooking sherry and get him back into the car.

  He was sitting apologetically on the back seat, his eyes sad once more. I said goodbye to Meryl and she got in the driver’s side.

  ‘We’ll take ’im back ’ome, get ’im settled in the yard. Thanks for lunch love,’ said Mrs. Pinchard. ‘Ooh I forgot to give these to your mum, she’ll think I’ve got no manners!’ She handed me some tinned fruit and pickled walnuts. I was lost for words as she waved goodbye and they drove off with John Paul Belmondo’s head poking out of the back window.

  Mum and Dad had taken Yvonne and Adrian to the casualty department at Guy’s and St.Thomas’s Hospital. I think it was mostly for shock. They emerged fairly unscathed and the only thing that would require stitches was Yvonne’s Nicole Farhi cashmere sweater.

  As we walked up to the front door Kenneth was leaving.

  ‘Stay away from me,’ he shouted and ran past us without a word of goodbye. Chris was in tears so I asked him to stay for a bit.

  ‘I’m sorry I barged in and ruined your Christmas day,’ said Chris as we all sat by the fire with the rest of the champagne.

  ‘I think it had already gone down the pan when the turkey went on the rampage,’ I grinned.

  ‘And when my mum outed your friend’s father as a police beater,’ added Daniel.