Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy Read Free

address is;
    3 Steeplejack Mews
    Marylebone
    London
    NW1 4RF  

    With thanks
    Coco Pinchard

    Tuesday 16th November   14.43
    TO: [email protected]

    I was clearing out one side of the wardrobe for Adam when the doorbell went. I peered through the peephole to see Angie stood outside smoking a cigarette with the wind whipping her dark hair about.
    ‘What you doing girl?’ she said when I opened the door. She was dressed in her usual Chanel power suit, her shoulder pads dangerously close to her ears. She ground out her cigarette end with a tiny pointed Jimmy Choo, and eased a fresh one into the corner of her mouth.  
    ‘I’m just making some space in the wardrobe for Adam. He’s moving in.’  
    ‘You’re gonna make him live in the wardrobe? Poor bastard,’ she said.
    ‘No, he’s moving into the house,’ I grinned. She rolled her eyes and came in.
    ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said. ‘I just had a meeting at the Groucho Club, so I thought I’d swing by on my way back to the office.’ We went through to the kitchen and she perched at the breakfast bar as I filled the kettle.
    ‘That’s a big detour,’ I said. ‘Is everything okay with the manuscript for Agent Fergie ?’
    ‘Yes, the book’s fine, they’ve just commissioned a cover designer. I’m here to tell you that you’ve won a Literary Award!’ she grinned and exhaled smoke through her teeth.
    ‘Oh my god! The Costa Book Award?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘The Orange Prize for Fiction?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘The Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award?’
    ‘No…’
    ‘The Edgar Allen Poe Award!’
    ‘That’s for mystery writers you twerp…’
    ‘Then what?’
    ‘The Doris Finkelstein Literary Recognition…’  
    ‘The what?’
    ‘It’s an American award. It’s a big deal in the States, loads of famous authors have previously won it,’ said Angie.
    ‘Is there a cash prize?’
    ‘Well, that’s the thing. There’s no cash prize per se. It’s so prestigious that the ‘prize’ is attending a ceremony to sign your name on the wall of the Doris Finkelstein Library.’
    ‘Oh…’  
    ‘In New York I hasten to add! Which means they want to fly you and a plus one over for an all expenses paid weekend.’
    ‘A free trip to New York!’ I screamed excitedly. ‘When?’
    ‘You fly out Thursday for the ceremony on Friday.’  
    ‘That’s quick?’
    ‘Well, these things are always last minute.’
    ‘I can’t wait to tell Adam, we’ve both been so busy with work we haven’t had a holiday in ages…’
    Angie looked up from scrolling through her iPhone.
    ‘Won’t he be working? It’s a Thursday.’
    ‘I’m sure they’ll let him take time off,’ I said. ‘He’s the boss of his department.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said, lighting another cigarette. There was an awkward pause.
    ‘Did you want to come with me?’ I said.
    Angie quickly recovered her composure; she flipped the cover over on her iPhone and gathered her things together.
    ‘Angie plus one means spouse, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Course it does,’ she said. ‘No, I’m far too busy. The bloody builders need to be supervised and, it’s fine. If you can email me your passport numbers. I’ll have my assistant arrange it all.’
    ‘Do you still want coffee?’  
    ‘No, I better go. I’m late for a meeting.’  
    She stubbed out her cigarette and clicked off in her little designer shoes with a slam of the front door.  
    It’s funny how people in your life surprise you. Saying that, Adam still hasn’t called back, which is unusual for him.  

    C x

    Tuesday 16th November   23.12
    TO: [email protected]

    Adam didn’t answer his work phone for the rest of the day, or his mobile. At 8pm, I pulled on my coat and walked round to his flat. I rang the bell several times before he answered. He looked exhausted, and was still wearing his work clothes, which smelt of stale sweat. When I followed him through to the living room, an Enya CD was blaring out. I noticed he