‘’Ave yer told Danny?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘Well ’e’s ’is father, ’e deserves to know…’
‘Yes he does,’ I said feeling guilty.
‘Danny was a good dad, always kept Rosencrantz up to date with Lego.’
‘What?’
‘Well Rosencrantz loved ’is Lego an’ Danny never scrimped. I read in the Daily Mail that bein’ denied stuff as a kiddy may lead to booze addiction.’
‘So Rosencrantz having all the Lego he ever wanted means, what?’
‘I’m jus’ saying, Danny was a good dad…’
‘Ethel. I’m not blaming Daniel.’
‘Well it can be passed along in yer jeans. My Wilf’s mother, she liked a nip every now and again. An’ when she’d ’ad a few she used to sing along with the piano at some very rough pubs… An’ it wasn’t the done thing in those days.’
‘Rosencrantz is not an alcoholic!’
Ethel was quiet.
‘’E’s on my settee, under a blanket. Maybe ’e should stay there today, sleep it off?’
‘Okay.’ I said.
‘An’ love, try to get some sleep yourself. You sound ragged.’
We went back to bed, and woke up at three in the afternoon with the phone ringing. It was Ethel again.
‘Is Rosencrantz still with you?’ I asked.
‘Yes love, ’e’s in the bath… Irene is ’ere and we’re making a spread. Tinned salmon sandwiches and Angel Delight.’
I heard Irene shouting something in the background.
‘Yes love you can eat the spinal column, no one else likes it… That’s Irene, she’s just opened the tin of salmon.’
‘He can’t stay with you Ethel. I need to talk to him about his behaviour.’
‘’E can stay the night.’
‘Ethel, spoiling him won’t solve his problems.’
‘’Ave you told Danny yet?’
‘No.’
‘Well I will. Leave Rosencrantz with me, Angel Delight always used to sort ’im out.’
I said I’d talk to her tomorrow. Adam lay beside me in bed and stroked my bump.
‘She says Angel Delight will sort it all out…’ I said.
‘Did she.’
‘I think it’s just a phase he’s going through… Don’t you? I drank a lot at university…’
‘He’s not at university Cokes.’
‘But actor’s live very much like students.’
Adam looked at me for a long moment.
‘I have to work tonight,’ he said.
‘Oh,’ I sighed.
‘Why don’t you come with me? Monday is dead… You could invite Marika, and Chris is about. You can all sit on the edge of the bar and admire me in my tight trousers. I’ll admire you in…’
‘In my tight trousers, in fact everything is now tight on me,’ I said.
Adam kissed me.
‘I’m sorry about everything,’ I said.
‘What do you have to be sorry about?’
‘I spent all that time obsessing over bloody Regina Battenberg, and you were unhappy with life, and Rosencrantz ...’
‘I love you Coco. I love you for your honesty. I love you for your brain, I love you for your body.’
‘There’s a lot of that to love...’
‘I love you for your royalties,’ he grinned.
‘My royalties?’
‘Yeah, Agent Fergie must be raking it in.’
‘Do you think we’ll be okay?’
‘Of course. Things are going to work out; my flat is earning us money again… It’s all going to be fine,’ he said.
I invited Marika to The Hop & Grape. Chris was in London too, so they both came and we sat at the end of the bar, talking to Adam in between customers.
‘You realise there are now six of us here,’ said Chris. ‘Us three, and three babies.’
Marika was still in the first flush of being pregnant, where as I felt just flushed.
‘I can’t believe you two are drinking Schloer,’ said Chris. ‘It’s what middle-class women drink at picnics when they’re driving.’
‘What should we have?’ said Marika.
‘Have a virgin cocktail or at least a J20… Cool people drink J20.’
‘I think a virgin cocktail will just make me want to drink,’ said Marika.
‘Promise me you won’t turn into those women at picnics when you have these babies. And don’t forget about me…’ said Chris.
‘I didn’t forget about you when I had Rosencrantz.’
‘No. You weren’t a helicopter parent. These days babies are like little gods. I was in the Westfield Shopping Centre last week, when I heard a woman say to her screaming eighteen-month-old, ‘Okay what do you want to do?’’
‘What did the baby want to do?’ asked Marika.
‘Lie in its pram and shit itself; what else can a baby do?’ said Chris.
‘So children should be seen and not heard?’
‘To a certain extent, yes. Don’t bring it to any coffee shop or bar until it can order its own drink. If I see anywhere with a babychino on the menu, I carry on walking.’
‘And to think I wanted you to be a Godparent.’ Marika grinned.
‘What do you mean I wasn’t a helicopter parent?’ I said.
‘You never fussed over Rosencrantz. You didn’t hover above him watching. You let him make mistakes, and look how he turned out… What?’ said Chris seeing my face.
I told them about Rosencrantz. They listened with mounting horror, and were quiet when I’d finished. Adam came over and squeezed my hand.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I said.
‘I can make a couple of phone calls; we could get him into rehab,’ said Chris gently. ‘Private and discreet of course.’
‘My son doesn’t need rehab.’
‘Coco, after everything you’ve told us, it sounds like Rosencrantz has a problem,’ said Chris softly.
‘Why are you saying that? God, you spend a few months in LA and suddenly Rosencrantz needs to go to rehab? Adam, tell them they’re stupid.’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Marika. ‘But if you’re asking, I agree with Chris.’
‘My son does not need to go to rehab. He needs…’
‘Tinned salmon sandwiches and Angel Delight with Ethel?’ said Adam.
‘You agree with them too? You said to give him time!’
‘Time to reach rock bottom? Coco there isn’t an expiration date on alcoholism. It usually gets worse.’
‘What makes you an expert?’
‘Sally the landlady here.’
‘Sally with the shaved head?’ I said.
‘Yes. She’s a raging alcoholic, she’s upstairs now. Drunk.’
‘Well she runs a pub.’
‘She’s a trained opera singer Cokes, but she can’t get any work; now she drinks herself unconscious most days,’ said Adam.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It didn’t seem relevant until now.’
‘And, we can’t forget what happened to Rosencrantz when he went to America in 2009,’ said Chris.
‘No. It was an accident that he got stopped at customs with a joint in his suitcase…’
Marika and Chris looked embarrassed.
‘It was! You both agreed with me... well we didn’t need to agree because… Rosencrantz is not an addict!’
My phone rang. I grabbed it out of my bag. It was Ethel.
‘That little shit stole twelve quid out of me ’andbag!’ she shouted.
‘Rosencrantz?’
‘’Oo else? Thieving little bugger. We were in the kitchenette giving the Angel Delight a stir and we come back and ’e’s gone. Not a word of goodbye.’
I came off the phone and told them he’d nicked money from Ethel.
‘What about an intervention Coco?’ suggested Chris.
‘Let’s call it a talk,’ said Marika. ‘What if we all sat him down and just talked?’
I felt the walls of the pub close in on me.
Wednesday 13th June
After another night with no sleep, and no clue of Rosencrantz’s whereabouts, Adam told me to seriously consider the intervention.
‘Rosencrantz is your son, but remember my son is inside you. He’s feeling all your stress and suffering. If we don’t do something, you might end up with no children.’
I spent the morning on the phone feeling embarrassed and stupid, but bless my family and friends. They all said they would come over tomorrow afternoon. Adam suggested we tell Rosencrantz I’m having a baby shower. He’d be more likely to show up to one of those.
Rosencrantz came back at midday, and went straight upstairs for a shower. We were in the kitchen having lunch.
‘I should go up to talk to him, should I go up?’ I said feeling terrified.
‘Let’s just remain cool, we don’t want to scare him off,’ said Adam.
Rosencrantz came downstairs in clean clothes and grabbed a glass of orange juice. My heart was pounding when I mentioned I was having my baby shower tomorrow, and I’d love it if he could be there for a bit.
‘Okay Mum,’ he said. ‘What time?’
‘Four, four o’clock.’
He finished his orange juice, put the glass in the dishwasher, and said he was going out. He gave Rocco a cuddle and left.
‘There’s nothing wrong with him,’ I said to Adam. ‘He was pleasant, agreeable. He’s drinking orange juice and getting his vitamins.’
Adam picked Rosencrantz’s glass out of the dishwasher and sniffed it. He handed it to me.
‘Vodka and orange?’ I said putting it to my nose. ‘It’s barely lunchtime… And where did the vodka come from, I saw him get a glass…’ my voice trailed off.
‘Let’s pray he shows up,’ said Adam.
Meryl phoned back in the afternoon, a little confused.
‘So Coco, can I ask again, what is this thing tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘We’re just going to talk to Rosencrantz about some things; he’s been drinking a bit too much.’
‘So it’s a talk?’
‘Yes a talk, or if I’m honest, an intervention.’
‘I’ve never been to an intervention before. Is it a sit down thing or just a buffet?’
‘It’s none of that. We’re just talking to Rosencrantz. The people he loves, to try and get him to see sense.’
‘Maybe some cupcakes would be nice, if we all get peckish at this intervention?’
‘Ok, but don’t say it’s an intervention. We’re telling Rosencrantz it’s my baby shower because he won’t come if he knows it’s an intervention, which it’s not; it’s more of a talk.’
‘So it’s a talk which is in fact an intervention disguised as a baby shower,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Should I bring a breast pump?’
‘Why would you need a breast pump?’
‘It’s for you Coco. As a present, if we’re pretending it’s a baby shower.’
’Okay, yes, thank you.’
‘And a plate of intervention cupcakes. Sorry, baby shower cupcakes.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I said.
‘It’s going to be okay Coco. You’re a good mum,’ she said.
I was rather touched.
Rosencrantz came back later on with a big bag of pink and blue balloons.
‘I got you these for the baby shower Mum,’ he said. I took the bag from him. The balloons were blue and had IT’S A BOY and IT’S A GIRL written on them in black.
‘Thank you,’ I said. Adam had to go to work so we spent an awkward evening watching television together. As far as I could see he didn’t drink to excess. Okay, five vodkas, but how many nights in the past have I knocked back five vodkas?
Adam came home late and climbed into bed beside me.
‘I’ve been thinking about how you define an alcoholic,’ I said. ‘I looked it up on my phone and it says that men can only drink twenty-one units of alcohol a week and women fourteen! Do you know what one glass of wine is?’
‘Three units,’ he said.
‘Three units. How many friends do we have who drink three glasses of wine a night and function perfectly.’
‘Coco, you’re not helping. We have to do this,’ he said.
Thursday 14th June
I’m starting to look really ragged after another night of no sleep. Rosencrantz didn’t go out, and was up fairly early, which made planning a secret intervention/baby shower all the more difficult.
‘You’re not very prepared for this baby shower,’ said Rosencrantz when we were having breakfast. ‘The only thing you’ve got is that bag of balloons I bought.’
So Adam went out afterwards and bought decorations; baby shower streamers, helium balloons, and some little platters of food from Marks. We had such a pleasant morning hanging things up, I felt rotten.
Four o’clock finally rolled around and people started to arrive. Daniel and Jennifer, Meryl, Ethel with her friend Irene, Chris, Marika and Milan. Rosencrantz was even on the bloody door taking people’s coats.
‘No one seems to have brought any presents,’ said Rosencrantz popping his head round the kitchen door as I was mixing up a jug of home-made lemonade. I was now sweating and very tense.
‘It’s okay love, um, I’ve asked for a lot of online vouchers,’ I lied.
‘Okay,’ he said and went back out taking the jug of lemonade.
‘There is nothing wrong with him,’ I hissed. ‘This is going to send him over the edge and make things worse!’
‘Just keep calm,’ said Adam.
‘It’s all right for you to say, but what if it was your daughter? I’d love to know what she gets up to!’
Daniel came into the kitchen.
‘Cokes, are you mad? Rosencrantz seems fine. He just helped Jennifer change the batteries in her Weight Watchers’ calculator.’
‘What?’ I said.
‘She’s got this little calculator which adds up the points of food. It takes these tiny hearing aid batteries, really fiddly and we’re both hopeless. Rosencrantz did it in a second.’
‘You see,’ I said to Adam. Meryl then came in.
‘It all looks lovely in the living room Coco, do you want the intervention cupcakes out? Or should I do them when we actually have the intervention?’
‘Meryl!’
‘Sorry baby shower cupcakes, I keep forgetting. Shall I put them on that nice plate on the coffee table?’
‘Yes, whatever,’ I said.
‘Tony isn’t coming Coco… He’s having problems with Mai Ling…’
‘What kind of problems?’
‘She’s asked if they can have an open relationship… Since she’s left China her eyes have been opened to the world.’
‘In Milton Keynes?’
‘Yes! Now Coco, please don’t bash Milton Keynes. We’ve got a lovely leisure centre, the National Museum of Computing, there’s even an indoor ski slope…’
‘Meryl I can’t deal with this right now.’
‘All I wanted to say was that Tony sends his best. We’ve been chatting on the phone a bit lately, just as friends…’
‘I’m pleased Meryl,’ I said.
‘Thank you Coco. I’ll get these cupcakes on a plate…’
She went out and Chris and Marika came in. She gave me a hug.
‘Are you okay Cokes?’
‘No, this just seems all wrong.’
‘Coco, I’ve been in contact with Pathways Addiction Centre…’ said Chris.
‘No! No. We’re going to talk to him, and then it’s going to be fine,’ I said. Ethel then came in, still wearing her coat with her handbag clutched to her chest.
‘Mum let me take your coat,’ said Daniel. ‘You must be boiling.’
‘Ooh no. This is me best coat and I’ve got my savings book in ’ere. I’m still down twelve quid thanks to you-know-who,’ said Ethel cocking her head towards the living room.
‘You didn’t
say anything Ethel?’ I said.
‘Not I ’aven’t. But I’m telling you Coco ’e needs a good clip round the ear, not this baby shower!’
‘It’s an intervention Mum,’ said Daniel.
‘Speaking of which, your Jennifer is motoring through them intervention cupcakes,’ said Ethel. ‘I tried to get near the plate an’ she nearly bit me hand off!’
‘Mum, you promised you’d be nice,’ said Daniel.
‘Watching ’er reminds of that game you ’ad as a kid – Hungry Hippo.’
‘Mum! You will not call my girlfriend a hungry hippo!’
Just then the doorbell rang and I edged past everyone to answer. It was midwife Justine dressed in jeans and a jumper. She was standing with a man in his fifties wearing a glittery gold suit.
‘Sorry to bother you Mrs Pinchard,’ she grinned. ‘We were just passing and I was going to pop your birth plan through the letter box, now I’ve photocopied it, but I see you’re having a baby shower!’
I looked past them and saw that Rosencrantz had tied the baby shower balloons all along the railings in front of the house.
‘Oh, this is my father, Brian,’ said Justine. The man in the gold suit smiled and we shook hands. ‘I’m driving him to a gig, in the City, and we had to pass your house.’
Rosencrantz came up to the front door.
‘A gig?’ I said.
‘Yes. Dad’s a Magician,’ grinned Justine.
‘The Magnificent Brian at your service,’ he said and pulled a big bunch of silk flowers out of his sleeve. I took them from him.
‘Cool. You hired a magician Mum?’ said Rosencrantz.
‘No, they’re on the way to a gig,’ I said handing the flowers back to him.
‘Well, we’ve got twenty minutes,’ said The Magnificent Brian. ‘I was so pleased to read the book you signed for Justine. I could come in and do a few tricks for your guests?’
Justine nodded and flashed her Wallace and Grommit grin.
‘Wicked,’ said Rosencrantz. ‘Can I take your coats?’
They came in and I closed the door. I went to the downstairs bathroom and stood for a few minutes, trying not to panic. I splashed my face with a little cold water, dried it and didn’t feel any better.