The Not So Secret Emails Of Coco Pinchard by Robert Bryndza Page B
Authors: Robert Bryndza
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culminating in,
“ I aint a grass!” She is plotting to bring down Mrs. Burbridge.
“I control what is on the box round ‘ere,” she said, her eyes flashing. I told her not to make trouble, but she said whatever she does, it won’t be traced back to her. If I was Mrs. Burbridge, I would be scared. I saw Ethel surreptitiously slide the key off the tin of Corned Beef and into her handbag.
Thursday 12th February 15:47
TO: [email protected]
Rosencrantz has ended it with Clive. They went on a second date yesterday to The Chamber of Horrors at Madam Tussauds . It was very dark, and for Health and Safety reasons a member of staff ordered him to remove his Prada sunglasses. Apparently, Clive has rather overdone it on the eye surgery. It looks like two peeled eggs are straining to evacuate his head. Rosencrantz screamed in terror and ran into the arms of a Dracula waxwork.
Saturday 14th February 13:44
TO: [email protected]
You got six Valentine cards? I got a gas bill. Marika has had nothing from Aristotle, even though on their last date she let him take her up the Oxo Tower.
Presents from Clive keep arriving for Rosencrantz. They were supposed to be going for a luxury Valentine’s journey on The London Eye… The eye-rony!
Saturday 14th February 17:07
TO: [email protected]
At four thirty, after Champagne, Handmade Belgian chocolates and a Tiffany Silver Spork had been delivered, Clive knocked on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” said Rosencrantz leaping into the airing cupboard and closing the door. Clive banged again and looked through the letterbox. I ran into the living room but he followed and saw me through the window. I pretended to be surprised to see him, and went to open the door.
“What can I do to win his heart?” begged Clive.
“You should find someone who wants to settle down,” I said, as nicely as I could. Clive pulled off his sunglasses and shouted,
“Does he know how rich I am? He’ll want for nothing!” Despite being forewarned, I still took a sharp intake of breath. I don’t know how his eyes were managing to stay in his head.
“Um…Money isn’t everything,” I said weakly.
“If you believe that then you’re a fool!” He spat. “I know you’re in there Rosencrantz,” he shouted. “I could make you a star!” We stood there awkwardly, as Rosencrantz remained in the airing cupboard.
“Fine!” he said, and turning on his loafers, he hailed a cab.
Rosencrantz quickly forgot about Clive. In fact, within three quarters of an hour, he had arranged a date via Facebook with a boy from his Elizabethan dance class. I couldn’t forget the look of desperation on Clive’s face. Will he ever find someone? Will I?
Please don’t cancel your date. I am okay. Aristotle came through and is taking Marika on a romantic horse-drawn carriage ride through Hyde Park. I’m just going to have a bath and go to bed early with the Belgian chocolates. I’m going to mash them up in a bowl, and eat the lot with the Silver Spork.
Sunday 15th February 11:44
TO: [email protected]
No, I didn’t have the best evening. I was getting ready for bed when Daniel phoned. I thought it was going to be a nice build bridges/Valentine’s call, but all he wanted to know was if Ethel’s spare teeth were in the filing cabinet. She had rung him in a panic. Her set has vanished from the glass beside her bed. Yesterday, Ethel stole Mrs. Burbridge’s wig and threw it in the tea urn, where it melted onto the filament. She thinks the missing teeth are retaliation.
The sum of my Valentine’s evening was spent sterilising her spare set. I am taking them over in a minute, they have Steak Diane for lunch, and the Nursing Home use the cheapest cuts of meat.
You want to come over later? Marika wants to tell us about her amazing night with Kostas. She is also on at me to join up to Facebook. Which is where she found him. She thinks it would do me good to meet
“ I aint a grass!” She is plotting to bring down Mrs. Burbridge.
“I control what is on the box round ‘ere,” she said, her eyes flashing. I told her not to make trouble, but she said whatever she does, it won’t be traced back to her. If I was Mrs. Burbridge, I would be scared. I saw Ethel surreptitiously slide the key off the tin of Corned Beef and into her handbag.
Thursday 12th February 15:47
TO: [email protected]
Rosencrantz has ended it with Clive. They went on a second date yesterday to The Chamber of Horrors at Madam Tussauds . It was very dark, and for Health and Safety reasons a member of staff ordered him to remove his Prada sunglasses. Apparently, Clive has rather overdone it on the eye surgery. It looks like two peeled eggs are straining to evacuate his head. Rosencrantz screamed in terror and ran into the arms of a Dracula waxwork.
Saturday 14th February 13:44
TO: [email protected]
You got six Valentine cards? I got a gas bill. Marika has had nothing from Aristotle, even though on their last date she let him take her up the Oxo Tower.
Presents from Clive keep arriving for Rosencrantz. They were supposed to be going for a luxury Valentine’s journey on The London Eye… The eye-rony!
Saturday 14th February 17:07
TO: [email protected]
At four thirty, after Champagne, Handmade Belgian chocolates and a Tiffany Silver Spork had been delivered, Clive knocked on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” said Rosencrantz leaping into the airing cupboard and closing the door. Clive banged again and looked through the letterbox. I ran into the living room but he followed and saw me through the window. I pretended to be surprised to see him, and went to open the door.
“What can I do to win his heart?” begged Clive.
“You should find someone who wants to settle down,” I said, as nicely as I could. Clive pulled off his sunglasses and shouted,
“Does he know how rich I am? He’ll want for nothing!” Despite being forewarned, I still took a sharp intake of breath. I don’t know how his eyes were managing to stay in his head.
“Um…Money isn’t everything,” I said weakly.
“If you believe that then you’re a fool!” He spat. “I know you’re in there Rosencrantz,” he shouted. “I could make you a star!” We stood there awkwardly, as Rosencrantz remained in the airing cupboard.
“Fine!” he said, and turning on his loafers, he hailed a cab.
Rosencrantz quickly forgot about Clive. In fact, within three quarters of an hour, he had arranged a date via Facebook with a boy from his Elizabethan dance class. I couldn’t forget the look of desperation on Clive’s face. Will he ever find someone? Will I?
Please don’t cancel your date. I am okay. Aristotle came through and is taking Marika on a romantic horse-drawn carriage ride through Hyde Park. I’m just going to have a bath and go to bed early with the Belgian chocolates. I’m going to mash them up in a bowl, and eat the lot with the Silver Spork.
Sunday 15th February 11:44
TO: [email protected]
No, I didn’t have the best evening. I was getting ready for bed when Daniel phoned. I thought it was going to be a nice build bridges/Valentine’s call, but all he wanted to know was if Ethel’s spare teeth were in the filing cabinet. She had rung him in a panic. Her set has vanished from the glass beside her bed. Yesterday, Ethel stole Mrs. Burbridge’s wig and threw it in the tea urn, where it melted onto the filament. She thinks the missing teeth are retaliation.
The sum of my Valentine’s evening was spent sterilising her spare set. I am taking them over in a minute, they have Steak Diane for lunch, and the Nursing Home use the cheapest cuts of meat.
You want to come over later? Marika wants to tell us about her amazing night with Kostas. She is also on at me to join up to Facebook. Which is where she found him. She thinks it would do me good to meet
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