The Not So Secret Emails Of Coco Pinchard (27 page)

Angie was feisty, but we had no trump card to play. On Tuesday, they want to move us to another of their venues called The Carnegie Fun Bags. Which are two tiny inflatable cubes in a car park at the top of the Royal Mile. It has twelve seats.

We are doing a swap with a show called Twitterati
,
something to do with tweeting on Twitter, and video screens. It has become huge and people are clamouring to see it.

Angie asked them what would happen if we said no. They said we would be liable for the first 40% of gross ticket losses.

We agreed and left. I cried, Chris cried, Angie had a tear in her eye, but it could have been smoke. I think I am going to get the show settled in the new venue and come home. I now have to go and tell the cast.

On our way out, we saw Kate Moss arriving for her interview with Regina Battenberg. There were so many flash bulbs that I feared for epileptics.

Sunday 9th August  20:24

TO: [email protected]

Chris has done what he always does when things go tits up and booked himself a suite in a hotel. I have come too, to get away, and keep an eye on him. Angie has flown back to London. She didn’t say much; we are both going to lose a lot of money and I think she is finally about to cut me loose.

How is the cast? I have put a bag of fifty pence’s on top of the meter, plus cash for a take-away on the table in the hall of Palace Apartments. The one I feel worse for is Beryl. I had no clue she had a Casting Director coming on Tuesday who is interested in her for a part in a film. The show will look awful on a four-foot square inflatable stage.

If you want to get out, there is a bed here.

Mum x

Sunday 9th August  23:33

TO: [email protected]

I just called Daniel from the phone in my hotel room. I don’t know why. I suppose I just wanted to talk. He was always good to talk to. I told him all about the show, and I told him I missed him… which I don’t. I just miss the idea of him.

He admitted that Whistle Up The Wind is in trouble. Middle America hates it.

Audiences come thinking it’s the sequel to Whistle Down The Wind and get confused/angry or bored. They just did a week in Springfield Massachusetts and the huge venue was only a quarter full. They are all waiting for the phone call to say it’s closing.

“I might need a place to live,” he said. I panicked and put the phone down. I could see where this was going, and in my vulnerable state of mind, I might end up asking him to come back. It rang a few times, but I ignored it and turned off the light.

Monday 10th August  14:45

TO: [email protected]

I was woken by the phone next to my bed, shrieking in the darkness. Fearing it was Daniel, I let it ring out. Then my iPhone began to trill. It was Rosencrantz,

“Mum, it’s me. Wake up,” he said excitedly. “Tell the Concierge I’m your son, and that he should let me up to your room.”

“What?” I said, looking at my watch. “It’s two in the morning!”

“I’ve just seen the front page of tomorrow’s, well today’s Sun,
”
gabbled Rosencrantz. “You’re not going to believe this. On the front page, there’s a picture of Kate Moss, and she’s holding our poster, the poster for Chasing Diana Spencer: The Musical!”

The Concierge came on the line and asked if I knew who this excited young man was. I said I did, and to let him come up. By the time Rosencrantz arrived, I had made some tea. He handed me the newspaper.

The picture was a close-up
of Kate Moss sitting outside a pub on the Royal Mile boozing with Regina Battenberg. Kate was laughing at something Regina was saying and in her hand was our poster.

The Sun headline read;

‘KATE HELPS REGINA GET OUT OF HER BOX.’

My iPhone rang again, it was Angie.

“Have you seen this?” she said. “I just spoke to the pap what sold the picture. He says that Kate wasn’t really looking at the poster, she just used it to fix the wobbly table outside the pub.”

“Oh,” I said disappointed. “So she didn’t want to see the show?”

“Course not. She just folded it up and shoved it under the table leg. But in the picture she
looks
like
she’s planning to see it!” Angie hung up.

“Talk about luck,” said Rosencrantz. “Remember that book Skinny Bitch? It sold a packet after Victoria Beckham was pictured holding it.”

“What are we getting excited about?” I said. “The fact we’re the reason Regina Battenberg’s lager doesn’t get spilt?”

“This is how the noughties work,” said Rosencrantz. “It’s not about getting things on merit or hard work, it’s all about opportunity and branding.” I said I was going back to sleep, that this was all ridiculous, and I wasn’t about to get excited about our poster being used to fix a wonky table leg.

An excited Chris woke me at ten o’clock the next morning.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Byron just phoned,” he said. “We’ve sold a hundred tickets for today’s show. The box office has only been open an hour!” My mouth fell open. By the time I got dressed and down to the Royal Mile today’s show only had thirty seats left.

The difference in the cast was incredible. All the fighting has been forgotten; they were brimming with excitement at the prospect of a full house. Just before 2pm, the show sold out!

We are just about to go in, Chris and me are going to have to sit with Byron at her technical table, as there are no spare seats!

Friday 14th August  16:02

TO: [email protected]

It has been an amazing few days. After Kate Moss was pictured holding our poster, on the front page of The Sun, Chasing Diana Spencer: The Musical became THE must-see show at the Festival. By 1pm on Tuesday, we had sold out every ticket for the rest of the run and there were requests for press tickets and interviews from every newspaper and magazine covering the Festival.

Inga and Orla Shaw seemed to be the only ones who were not pleased. They said that due to an, ‘unprecedented surge’ in ticket sales, they were unable to move us to The Carnegie Fun Bags.

“It’s due to the complexities of refunding,” said Inga, sour as ever.

“We still think the show a little too,
mainstream
for us,” said Orla.

I reminded them they have an old biddy in a giant fake window box doing a chat show, but they stalked off, their matching Beatrix Potter dresses swishing in the breeze.

Byron has stapled quotes from some of our reviews on our posters. These are my favourites:-

THE SCOTSMAN “The audience went wild! Toe tapping songs and a brilliant story, I laughed, I cried, I tried… to buy another ticket, but it’s sold out!”

SUN “Book before it sells out! It’s a hit! It’s The Sun what done it!”

SCOTSGAY “We saw it first,
before
it became a diva of a show. We loved her then and we love her now. Tickets are like this seasons Fendi, a must-have!”

Did you see The Independent today? They did an article about the show and it’s led to me being booked to go on BBC1’s Saturday Kitchen tomorrow. I am a last minute replacement for Anne Widdecombe, who has the flu. I am driving back down to London for a few days. Do you fancy a catch up?

Saturday 15th August  16:00

TO: [email protected]

I’m glad you didn’t see Saturday Kitchen. However, they say no publicity is bad publicity…

The gorgeous Chef Jean Christophe Novelli hosted it. I had to perch on a stool in the studio kitchen, whilst he cooked steak and kidney pie, and we talked about the Edinburgh Festival.

I had stupidly left my iPhone on, and it rang during the live show. I tried to ignore it but he told me to answer. He then grabbed my phone and put it to his little radio mic.

Ethel’s voice boomed into the studio saying,

“Ere Coco, that Anne Widdecombe is on the telly, I never knew how much she looked like you.” There was a pause and Jean Christophe told her she was live on BBC1.

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, but Ethel continued chatting away.

“Ooh! I’m on telly!” she said. “Oh yer gorgeous, you are, if I were forty year younger…”

She went on to ask if Jean Christophe was single, and when he said no, she still tried to set me up with him.

“Go on Jean Christophe, give Coco a kiss, you’ll make ‘er day!” he gathered me up in his arms and kissed me full on the lips, to the squeals of Ethel echoing through the studio.

“Slip ‘er the tongue Jean Christophe!” She shouted. “Not all ‘er eggs are past their sell by date!”

I could have killed her.

After the show, the producers were thrilled at such an ‘hilarious’ segment. Jean Christophe was very sweet. Kissing my hand before his car took him off to meet his girlfriend at Claridges.

He made me think of Adam. I wonder if he was watching and if so, I hope he was a bit jealous.

Sunday 16th August  12:30

TO: [email protected]

I have just been to see Ethel in her new flat. It’s in a nice little block, just off Catford High Street. There is a warden on the front door and a communal lounge, but apart from that, its self-contained. The IKEA furniture looks quite good, she still can’t get over the fact that it all belongs to her.

“I’ve never ‘ad nothing I’ve owned before,” she said stroking the sofa. I remember Daniel telling me that growing up, even their toaster was rented from the Co-op.

Jean Christophe Novelli gave me a signed cookbook for Ethel; she is still excited about having been on television. Everyone in the sheltered housing is talking about it. I met her new ‘best friend,’ an Australian woman called Irene who reads palms. When Ethel cleared away our coffee cups, Irene offered to do a reading.

“You’re going to meet a tall dark handsome stranger,” she said examining a crease in my palm.

“She’s done that already,” shouted Ethel from the kitchen. “He’s a beautiful dark man, but she buggered it up.”

“Ah yes,” said Irene looking closer. “Yes, love could be something which eludes you, but,” she said, leaning into a crease by my little finger. “I do see a companion … A cat. You’re going to get a lovely cat.”

I asked her to tell me about my career.

“I just see cats,” said Irene. “Maybe you’ll open a Cattery?”

“Thas’ a good idea Irene…” shouted Ethel from the kitchen. “This writing business will never make ‘er rich.”

I want to be back in Edinburgh, I miss it all. The buzz on the Royal Mile. The roar of the crowd before our show begins.

Marika is moving into my spare room. Her Landlord has vanished; he hasn’t paid the mortgage on her flat for six months and it’s been repossessed. She thought she had until October, when her tenancy agreement ran out. I am just going over with the car to collect her and all of her stuff.

Monday 17th August  17:44

TO: [email protected]

Marika persuaded me to go to the Allotment today. We finished moving her stuff late last night and after waking up after lunch, she said we must go and enjoy the sunshine.

I really didn’t want to see Adam, but Marika was putting on a brave face about losing her home so the least I could do was risk seeing him.

I raided Marika’s suitcases for summery things to wear. I haven’t been on a proper shopping spree in ages, and I picked out a cool tracksuit. When we got to the Allotment I began watering, Marika opened a deck chair, stripped down to a string bikini, and began to oil herself. You should have seen the old guys, ha! Not a lot of digging was done.