Free Coco Pinchard, the Consequences of Love and Sex: A Funny, Feel-Good, Romantic Comedy by Robert Bryndza Page B

men. She was wearing her signature gold character turban and heaps of makeup. Inside she’d written:
    I dedicate my millionth copy to you dear Coco Pinchard. Maybe one day you can do the same for me? I won’t hold my breth! Ha Ha! (Just joking darling) xxx

    ‘Has she really sold a million copies?’ I asked.
    ‘She signed that a couple of weeks ago, so it’s about 1.2 million now.’
    ‘Angie, she can’t even spell the word breath !’ I said.
    ‘I know she writes mainstream rubbish, but I need authors like her so I can nurture my... literary writers. Like you.’ I didn’t like the way she made quotation marks in the air when she said literary.
    ‘I’ve sold lots of books too,’ I said.
    ‘Course you have love. But I need mega-sellers. The ebook revolution is doing me no favours. Especially now any old Tom, Dick or Harry living in a bedsit can upload a word document and have a bestseller. It makes my blood boil,’ she hunted around her desk for a cigarette.
    ‘Chloe, where are my bloody silk cut!’ she shouted. Chloe hurried in and lit her mother a cigarette.
    ‘Look, let’s not get into this again,’ I said. ‘Self-published authors are here to stay, there’s room for everyone.’
    There was an awkward silence.
    ‘Right,’ she said composing herself. ‘I’ve got a release date for Agent Fergie . Your publisher, The House of Randoms , is looking at April 16th, so we really need to start things moving.’
    ‘There’s just one other thing,’ I said. ‘I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby in August.’  
    ‘Bloody hell!’ said Angie. She sat back and puffed on her cigarette, then as an afterthought waved the smoke away from me. ‘You know, that could be a brilliant promotion angle. Old mum.’
    ‘Old mum?’
    ‘Have you got an ultrasound?’ I started to get it out of my coat.
    ‘No give it to Chloe to scan. It would be good to have on record if the press need it. This is such good news Coco! We could get Heat magazine to do a folic acid themed, ‘What’s in your fridge?’ You could recommend stretch mark cream in Boots Magazine . We could pitch something to Grazia or Cosmo about female incontinence – Ulrika Johnson has paved the way with that one. It’s perfect! Your readership is women over thirty five – and of course poofters. Could we do a mum and son thing in Gaytimes ? Rosencrantz topless, and you in maternity gear?’
    ‘Hey! Angie!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve just told you I’m pregnant.’
    ‘I heard you love.’
    ‘And what do normal people say in response?’
    Angie looked confused. ‘Um. Whose is it?’  
    I shook my head.
    ‘Are you gonna to keep it?’ Then it dawned on her. ‘Shit, congratulations Cokes.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    I showed her my scan and she became human again. She even asked if I wanted to be put in touch with her Harley Street gynaecologist.
    ‘He’s great,’ she said. ‘Got me into a private hospital that lets you smoke. I could choose when I had my Caesarean, and they did a bit of liposuction at the same time.’
    I lied and said I’d think about it.
    ‘Well when you get the next bit of your advance through you can afford it love.’  
    Then Angie said our time was up. She had to prepare for a conference call with Regina Battenberg’s American publicist.
    ‘So what’s happening with Agent Fergie ?’ I asked on the way out.
    ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said. I came out and walked to Chiswick high street where I found a bus direct to Marylebone. I managed to bag a seat upstairs right at the front with a super view. But my nose had been put out of joint. Now Regina Battenberg is with Angie, I am no longer her number one client.

    Wednesday 8th February

    I was making tea this morning, when I realised we had run out of milk. Adam was reading the newspaper so I kissed him on top of the head and nipped out to the Tesco Metro. When I returned twenty minutes later, he was gone… I tried his mobile but the call was rejected after two