Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy (30 page)

They came inside and I made us all spritzers. The shelf was still looming large and toppled in the living room, so we came outside and sat on the Champagne sofas.

I had told them all about the photo album and we’d chewed it over for a few hours, coming up with nothing. Chris had just started talking about something else when Marika gave a yell.
 

'What is it?' I said.

‘Look! Someone’s split the edge of the lining and made a compartment. There’s something in here,’ she said. She carefully pulled out a sheaf of old newspaper cuttings and put them on the table. We sifted through them.

‘It’s all crap,’ said Chris with disappointment in his voice. ‘Local newspaper crap.’

Rosencrantz was sitting opposite, and started to sift through them again. He unfolded one of them, a full-page article about a street fair, which was on in 2010. I noticed an article on the back and choked on my drink.

 
It was a photo of Sabrina Jones.
 

I screamed and grabbed it. The photo was taken outside the Magistrates Court in Camberwell, Sabrina was reaching out to try to prevent a photographer from taking her photo. Underneath was written;
 

Suspended sentence for £40,000 benefit thief

A 27-year-old South London woman has been given a suspended jail sentence after pleading guilty to five charges of benefit fraud amounting to almost £40,000.
 

Sabrina Colter of Woolwich, London was sentenced to six months in prison, suspended for two years, at Woolwich Magistrates’ Court on Thursday, 14 May 2010.

Colter pleaded guilty to five offences of dishonestly, making false statements, and creating false documents to obtain benefits amounting to £39,568 at an earlier hearing on Wednesday 22 April. She was also ordered to return the money she took and pay £500 costs.

Colter had previously been given a conditional discharge in 2008 for not declaring that her mother was her landlady, but continued to falsely claim Housing and Council Tax benefit using four separate identities.
 

'This is her!' I said.

‘I thought she was called Sabrina Jones?’ said Chris. ‘This article says she’s Sabrina Colter.’

'She must have changed her surname!' I said. I looked at the paper again. It
was
her, the fine wrists, and the long blond hair. Her face was twisted into the same angry snarl I saw when she was on the phone by the Thames during the trial.

'Surely this means something?' said Rosencrantz.

'It means everything!’ said Marika. 'If they didn’t know about her criminal record for fraud, it casts doubt on her reliability as a witness.’

'And if they didn’t know about it, it’s new information to present in an appeal!' I shrilled.

I jumped up and phoned Natasha, but just when I need her, she has left for her two-week summer holiday in The Maldives. Her secretary said she’s on a plane for the next twelve hours and unreachable.
 

I then grabbed my things and said I was going to go round and have it out with Sabrina.

'Mum that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard,’ said Rosencrantz. ‘She doesn’t know you know. Isn’t that your trump card?'
 

‘If you go round, she’ll probably call the police,’ said Chris. ‘You look ready to kill her.’

‘And it wouldn’t help Adam’s appeal if you get arrested,’ added Marika.

I had to admit they had a point. I came and sat down and tried to stay calm.

Now that they have all left, I’m feeling increasingly frustrated. I’m also creeped out about all of these coincidences. The dream I kept having about the old woman pointing behind the bookshelf… It’s her photo album…
 

 
However, I am so excited. We have a crack at an appeal! Phone as soon as you can. I love you, and we are going to get you out of prison!

Coco Xxx

Saturday 30th July
 
21.06

TO: [email protected]

All the wind seems to have been taken out of my sails. I haven’t heard back from Adam, he must have received my email letter by now. He didn’t call before we listened to Adele, which he always does.
 

Natasha isn’t answering her mobile and the offices of Spencer & Spencer are not open until Monday. Is the legal profession the only group of people who still have a two-day weekend?
 

I am so close to going over to Sabrina’s flat and, I don’t know, breaking in and looking for the cash, smacking her in the gob. Anything to make something happen!
 

August

Monday 1st August
 
13.12

TO: [email protected]

I haven’t heard from Adam. It’s been several days now, he normally phones before our listening party on a Saturday, and writes a letter, which he times to arrive on a Monday. When the post arrived this morning with nothing but junk mail, I phoned Cambria Sands Prison switchboard to ask if there was any way I could talk to him.

'You want me to ‘put you through’ to a serving prisoner?' said the gruff voice that answered.

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘He can go for walks; there are no bars on the windows. Can’t you just let him speak to me?'
 

'Well I would let you, but Prisoner AG26754 is currently occupied on the croquet lawn before he takes tea in the conservatory,' he said without missing a beat.

'Okay. I get it…' I said. 'Please could you at least tell me if Prisoner AG26754 is okay? You see I haven’t heard from him in days. He
always
phones or writes to me.'

'I can check if the prisoner is currently serving a sentence in the prison. But that is all.'

'Thank you,' I said. The line went quiet and I held for several eternal minutes. The silence was deafening. There is no hold music in HM Prison service. Finally, there was a click, a rustle, and the voice returned.

'The Prisoner is in solitary.’

'What? Solitary… Solitary Confinement?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ There was a sound of papers being sifted. 'It seems Prisoner AG26754 was involved in a fight. Ah… Yes… pulled up in front of the Governor last Thursday.'

'And by Prisoner AG26754 this is Adam Rickard?'

'Yes.'

'Was he badly hurt?'

‘He wasn’t admitted to the Hospital Wing, so we can assume not.'

'When can I expect to hear from him?' More pages turned.

'I see here Prisoner AG… Um Mr. Rickard has lost all privileges for a month, and had fifty-six days added to his sentence.’

'Fifty-six days?'

'Yes.'

I put down the phone. Fifty-six days! That’s another two months! To think how long two months is, especially during this terrible period. I was so angry. If I were at the prison, I’d put Adam in the hospital wing myself.

Later that afternoon the doorbell rang, and outside stood Wayne and Rosencrantz. I was in a t-shirt and shorts with a huge hammer and some clear goggles I had borrowed from Shane upstairs.

'Mum what are you doing?' said Rosencrantz.

'I’m going to bash that bloody bookshelf to bits,' I said. ‘It’s all cracked across the back and I need something to take out my anger on.’ I told them about Adam.

'You need to come down from your DIY cloud and the put the kettle on, Mrs. P,’ said Wayne. 'We’ve concocted a cunning plan.'

'We have Mum,' grinned Rosencrantz.

I pulled off my goggles, went to the kitchen, and filled a pan with water.

'We’ve got the answer Mum,' said Rosencrantz. 'And it’s been staring us in the face.'

'Social media,' said Wayne pulling out his iPad.

'What are you talking about?' I said putting the pan on the stove and lighting the gas.

'We did some research on Sabrina Jones,’

'Formerly Sabrina Colter,' added Wayne.

‘Sabrina, is all over Social Media,' said Rosencrantz. 'She’s very active on Facebook and Twitter.’

‘So?’ I said, pulling out mugs and some chocolate biscuits.

'This Sabrina is stupid enough to share her whole life on the Internet,' said Rosencrantz. ‘Just from looking at her twitter feed we know a lot of the places she’s been today. For example she went to Nandos in the O2 at eleven this morning, and she’s off to see a film…'
 

'Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, Part Two… With her friend Caitlin,' said Wayne holding up his iPad.

'People don’t realise, you can piece together their whole lives by silly updates they write. Her Facebook account goes back to 2007, her Twitter goes back to 2009,' said Rosencrantz.

'You know how in old James Bond films, when they wanted follow the bad guy without him knowing, they’d stick a tracking device to his car and then watch a moving red dot on a map?’

‘Yes…’ I said.

‘This is our red dot!’ said Rosencrantz. 'The info flashes up on Facebook or Twitter.'

‘Does she say where she stashed the two hundred grand?’ I said skeptically, pouring milk into mugs.

'No Mum, but we’re watching…'

We sat down for our tea and I told them about Adam not being in contact, about Natasha being on holiday, and how I felt desperate.

'This is going to work out Mum, I know it,' said Rosencrantz. I admired his positivity, but I didn’t agree.

Tuesday 2nd August
 
19.15

TO: [email protected]

Natasha phoned this morning! Her secretary had passed on my message. I told her about the newspaper cutting and Sabrina Jones having a criminal record for fraud as Sabrina Colter.

'This is very good Coco!' she said. 'It could be a mitigating factor in forcing an appeal… Can you fax me a copy of the newspaper article?’ She gave me a number for her hotel. As soon as I came off the phone, I ran round to the little corner shop and paid £4 to fax the newspaper cutting to Natasha’s luxury five star hotel.

As I stood there in the stinking shop, watching the newspaper as it was sucked into the cracked old fax machine, I hoped that this would be our breakthrough moment.

I came home and waited. And waited. I’ve heard nothing all day. I hope that crappy fax machine was working.
 

Friday 5th August
 
16.47

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

There has been nothing from Natasha, or Adam.
 

I took Rocco for a long walk and found myself up at the little church in Honor Oak Park. It was full of volunteers, old ladies bustling in and out with mops and buckets and bunches of fresh flowers. I wanted to go inside, but Rocco was with me and I didn’t have a coat to hide him in.

I was convinced for so long we would get married there on the 19th August. A date now only two weeks away. I thought how unfair life is. I’m stuck. Frozen in time. Engaged to man who won’t see the light of day until June 2014, no it’s now August 2014! I’ll be almost fifty! What’s to say he won’t be released and find some hot young thing?

 
Sorry to be such a misery. Love you both.

C xx

Monday 8th August
 
17.11

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

I would love to come out for a drink with you both, but I have just had to transfer more money over to Spender & Spencer law firm. Natasha still hasn’t contacted me after I faxed the newspaper cutting, which is a major piece of evidence, but I do get a bill from her office for her time! It all feels so relentless.
 

I don’t know if I will ever be able to move back into my house, or have a career… Sorry am just very low. Have fun.

Love Coco xxx

PS Have you seen on the news, there are riots breaking out in North London.

Tuesday 9th August
 
16.54

TO: [email protected]

Are you okay love? I saw the rioting is getting close to you in North London; they have spread to this side of the river too. People are going mad, smashing up shops and looting. Rosencrantz, Marika, and Chris came over last night for a drink and ended up staying the night. Chris had called for a taxi when it got late, but every cab company refused to drive through South London. The riots have broken out in Peckham (4 miles away) Lewisham (3 miles away) and just down the road, in Catford! We realised they were so close when the doorbell rang just before nine pm, and there was Ethel in her best coat, shaking with nerves.

'Can I come in love? I was on the bus ‘ome and the driver just kicked us ‘orf at the end of your road, Catford is closed off by riot police!' she said.

I pulled her in and locked the door. We were all genuinely scared that the rioters would reach Brockley.

I made toast and tea and we watched a live feed from the BBC News Channel of the riots unfolding. One journalist was shown walking along the high street in Peckham filming people throwing bricks through shop windows and grabbing what they could. Just after they reported that people were taking to twitter to organise riots, my Internet connection was cut.

'This is unbelievable,' said Chris stabbing at the screen of his iPhone. ‘I thought we lived in a democracy!'

'Democracy is an illusion at best,' I said.

'We’re all just pawns in the Capitalist master plan,' said Marika.
 

'You know woss worse?' said Ethel. 'I left me smalls out on the rotary line! Do you think they’ll get looted?'

'They want the latest gadgets, DVD’s and flat screen televisions,' I said. 'Your knickers should be fine.'

It was strange to be completely cut off from any television or radio. Every now and then one of us would go out into the street to see if anything was happening, but it was eerily quiet. In the distance there was an orange glow, but we couldn’t tell if it was fire or light pollution. The uncertainty didn’t do us any good.

Everyone stayed the night and bunked down where they could. I let Ethel have the bed. Marika and me shared the sofa. Rosencrantz and Chris pulled in a champagne chair each from outside, and curled up as best they could.

Around five, when it got light, we discovered we were all awake, so I got up and made more tea and toast. Rosencrantz discovered the Internet was back on, so he switched on the laptop, and we watched the early morning news.