I paused at the French windows, looking around nervously. Heart lurched when located him, standing on his own, in traditional Mark Darcy party mode, looking detached and distant. He glanced towards the door where I was standing and for a second we were locked in each other's gaze before he gave me a confused nod, then looked away. Then I noticed Rebecca crouched down beside him with Constance.
"Constance! Constance! Constance!" Rebecca was cooing, waving a Japanese fan in her face at which Constance was glowering and blinking crossly.
"Look who's come!" said Magda, bending down to Constance and pointing across at me.
A surreptitious smile crept across Constance's face and she set off determinedly, if slightly wobbly, towards me, leaving Rebecca looking foolish with the fan. I bent down when she got near and she put her arm round my neck and pressed her little hot face against mine.
"Have you brought me a present?" she whispered.
Relieved that this blatant example of cupboard love was inaudible to anyone but me I whispered, "Might have done."
"Where is it?"
"In my bag."
"Shall we go and get it?"
"Oh, isn't that sweet?" I heard Rebecca coo and looked up to see her and Mark watching as Constance took me by the hand and led me into the cool of the house.
Was quite pleased with Constance's present actually, a packet of Minstrels and a pink Barbie tutu with a gold and pink net sticking-out skirt, which had had to trawl two branches of Woolworth's to find. She liked it very much and naturally - as would any woman - wished to put it on immediately.
"Constance," I said when we had admired it from every angle, "were you pleased to see me because of me or because of the present?"
She looked at me under lowered brows. "The present."
"Right," I said.
"Bridget?"
"Yes."
"You know in Your house?"
"Yes."
"Why haven't you got any toys?,
"Well, because I don't really play with that sort of toy."
"Oh. Why haven't you got a playroom?"
"Because I don't do that sort of playing."
"Why haven't you got a man?"
Couldn't believe it. Had only just walked into the party and was being Smug Marrieded by someone who was three.
Had long quite serious conversation then, sitting on the stairs, about everyone being different and some people being Singletons, then heard a noise and looked up to see Mark Darcy looking down at us.
"Just, er. The loo is upstairs, I assume?" he said uninterestedly. "Hello, Constance. How's Pingu?"
"He isn't real," she said, glowering at him.
"Right, right," he said. "Sorry. Stupid of me to be so" he looked straight into my eyes - "gullible. Happy birthday, anyway." Then he made his way past us without even giving me a kiss hello or anything. 'Gullible'. Did he still think I was unfaithful with Gary the Builder and the dry-cleaning man? Anyway, I thought, I don't care. it doesn't matter. Everything's fine and I'm completely over him.
"You look sad," said Constance. She thought for a moment, then took a half-sucked Minstrel out of her mouth and put it in mine. We decided to go back outside to show off the tutu, and Constance was immediately swept up by a maniacal Rebecca.
"Ooh, look, it's a fairy. Are you a fairy? What kind of fairy are you? Where's your wand?" she gabbled.
"Great present, Bridge," said Magda. "Let me get you a drink. You know Cosmo, don't you?"
"Yes," I said, heart sinking, taking in the quivering jowls of the enormous merchant banker.
"So! Bridget, great to see you!" bellowed Cosmo, eyeing me up and down leerily. "How's work?"
"Oh, great actually " I lied, relieved that he wasn't launching straight into my love life. How things had moved on! "I'm working in TV now."
"TV? Marvellous! Bloody marvellous! Are you in front of the camera?"
"Only occasionally," I said in the sort of modest tone that suggested I was practically Cilla Black but didn't want anyone to know.
"Ohl A celebrity, eh? And" - he leaned forward in a concerned manner - "are you getting the rest of your life sorted out?"
Unfortunately at that moment Sharon happened to be passing. She stared at Cosmo, looking like Clint Eastwood when he thinks somebody is trying to double-cross him.
"What kind of question is that?" she growled.
"What?" said Cosmo, looking round at her, startled.
"'Are you getting the rest of your life sorted out?'" What do you mean by that exactly?"
"Well, ah, you know ... when is she going to get ... you know.. ."
"Married? So basically just because her life isn't exactly like yours you think it isn't sorted out, do you? And are you getting the rest of your life sorted out, Cosmo? How are things going with Woney?"
"Well I ... well," huffed Cosmo, going bright red in the face.
"Oh, I am sorry. We've obviously hit a sore spot. Come on, Bridget, before I put my big foot in it again!"
"Shazzerl" I said, when we were at a safe distance.
"Oh, come on," she said. "Enough, already. They just can't go around randomly patronizing people and insulting their lifestyles. Cosmo probably wishes Woney would lose four stone and stop doing that shrieking laugh all day but we don't just assume that the minute we've met him, and decide it's our business to rub it in, do we?" An evil gleam came into her eye. "Or maybe we
should," she said, grabbing hold of my arm and changing direction back towards Cosmo, only to be confronted by Mark and Rebecca and Constance again. Oh Christ.
"Who do you think is older, me or Mark?" Rebecca was saying.
"Mark," said Constance sulkily, looking from side to side as if planning to bolt.
"Who do you think is older, me or Mummy?" Rebecca went on playfully.
"Mummy," said Constance disloyally, at which Rebecca gave a tinkly little laugh.
"Who do you think is older, me or Bridget?" said Rebecca, giving me a wink.
Constance looked up at me doubtfully while Rebecca beamed at her. I nodded quickly at Rebecca.
"You," said Constance.
Mark Darcy let out a burst of laughter.
"Shall we play fairies?" Rebecca trilled, changing tack, trying to take Constance by the hand. "Do you live in a fairy castle? Is Harry a fairy too? Where are your fairywairy friends?"
"Bridget," said Constance, looking at me levelly, "I think you'd better tell this lady I'm not really a fairy."
Later on, as I was recounting this to Shaz, she said darkly, "Oh God. Look who's here."
Across the garden was Jude, radiant in turquoise, chatting to Magda but without Vile Richard.
"The girls are here!" said Magda gaily. "Look! Over there!"
Shaz and I stared down studiously into our glasses as if we hadn't noticed. When we looked up, Rebecca was bearing down on Jude and Magda mwah-mwahing like a social-climbing literary wife who's just spotted Martin Amis talking to Gore Vidal.
"Oh Jude, I'm so happy for you, it's wonderful!" she gushed.
"I don't know what that woman's on but I want some of it," muttered Sharon.
"Oh, you and Jeremy must come, no you must. You absolutely must," Rebecca was going now. "Well, bring them! Bring the children! I love children! Second weekend in July. It's my parents' place in Gloucestershire. They'll love the pool. All sorts of lovely, lovely people are coming! I've got Louise Barton-Foster, Woney and Cosmo . . ." Snow White's step-mother, Fred and Rosemary West and Caligula, I thought she might go on.
". . . Jude and Richard, and Mark'll be there of course, Giles and Nigel from Mark's office . . ."
I saw Jude glance in our direction. "And Bridget and Sharon?" she said.
"What?" said Rebecca.
"You've invited Bridget and Sharon?"
"Oh." Rebecca looked flustered. "Well, of course, I'm not sure we've got enough bedrooms but I suppose we could use the cottage." Everyone stared at her. "Yes, I have!" She looked round wildly. "Oh, there you two are! You'
re coming on the twelfth, aren't you?"
"Where?" said Sharon.
"To Gloucestershire."
"We didn't know anything about it," said Sharon loudly.
"Well. You do now! Second weekend in July. It's just outside Woodstock. You've been before, haven't you, Bridget?"
"Yes," I said, colouring, remembering that hideous weekend.
"So! That's great! And you're coming, Magda, so. . ."
"Um...." I began.
"We'd love to come," said Sharon firmly, treading on my foot.
"What? What?" I said when Rebecca had whinnied off.
"Of course we're bloody well going," she said. "You're not letting her hijack all your friends just like that. She's trying to bludgeon everyone into some ridiculous social circle of suddenly needed nearly friends of Mark's ready for the two of them to plop into like King and Queen Buzzy-bee."
"Bridget?" said a posh voice. I turned to see a shortish sandy-haired guy in glasses. "It's Giles, Giles Benwick. I work with Mark. Do you remember? You were terribly helpful on the phone that night when my wife said she was leaving."
"Oh, yes, Giles. How are you?" I said. "How's everything going?"
"Oh, not very good, I'm afraid," said Giles. Sharon disappeared with a backwards look, at which Giles launched into a long, detailed, and thorough account of his marital break-up.
"I so much appreciated your advice," he said, looking at me very earnestly. "And I did buy Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. I thought it was very, very, very good, though it didn't seem to alter Veronica's point of view."
"Well, it's more dealing with dating than divorce," I loyally-to -the-Mars-and-Venus-concept said.
"Very true, very true," conceded Giles. "Tell me: have you read 'You Can Heal Your Life' by Louise Hay?"
"Yes!" I said delightedly. Giles Benwick really did seem to have an extensive knowledge of the self-help book world and I was very happy to discuss the various works with him, though he did go on a bit. Eventually Magda came over with Constance.
"Giles, you really must come and meet my friend Cosmo!", she said, rolling her eyes discreetly at me. "Bridge, would you mind looking after Constance for a mo?"
I knelt down to talk to Constance, who seemed to be worried about the aesthetic effect of chocolate smears on a tutu. Just as we had both firmly convinced ourselves that chocolate smears on pink were attractive, unusual and a positive design asset, Magda reappeared. "I think poor old Giles's got a bit of a crush on you," she said wryly and took Constance off for a poo. Before I'd got up again someone started smacking my bottom.
I turned round - thinking, I confess, maybe Mark Darcy! - to see Woney's son William and his friend, giggling evilly.
"Do it again," said William and his small friend started smacking again. Tried to get up but William - who's about six and big for his age -launched himself on to my back and wrested his arms around my neck.
"Stoppit, William," I said with an attempt at authority but at that moment there was a commotion at the other side of the garden. The pot-bellied pig had broken free and was rushing backwards and forwards letting out a high-pitched noise. There was mayhem as parents rushed for their offspring but William was still clinging tight to my back and the boy was still smacking my bottom and shrieking with Exorcist-style laughter. I tried to get William off, but he was surprisingly strong and clung on. My back was really hurting.
Then suddenly William's arms were released from round my neck. I felt him being lifted away and then the smacking stopped. For a moment I just hung my head, trying to get my breath back and recover my composure. Then I turned to see Mark Darcy walking away with a writhing six-year-old boy under each arm.
For a while the party was entirely taken over by the recapturing of the pig, and Jeremy giving the petting zookeeper a bollocking. The next I saw of Mark, he was wearing his jacket and saying goodbye to Magda at which Rebecca rushed over and started saying goodbye as well. I looked away quickly and tried not to think about it. Then suddenly Mark was coming over to me.
"I'm, er, off now, Bridget," he said. Could swear I saw him glance down at my tits. "Don't leave with any pieces of meat in your handbag, will you?"
"No," I said. For a moment we just looked at each other. "Oh, thank you, thank you for ... " I nodded to where the incident had happened.
"Not at all," he said softly. "Any time you want me to get a boy off your back." And as if on cue, bloody Giles Benwick reappeared carrying two drinks.
"Oh, are you off, old boy?" he said. "I was just about to pump Bridget for some more of her seasoned advice." Mark looked quickly from one of us to the other.
"I'm sure you'll be in very good hands," he said abruptly. "See you in the office on Monday."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How come nobody ever flirts with me except when Mark is around?
"Back in the old torture chambers, eh?" Giles was saying, clapping him on the back. "On it goes. On it goes. Off you go then."
Head was in a whirl while Giles went on and on about sending me a copy of 'Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway'. He was very keen to know if Sharon and I were going to Gloucestershire on the twelfth. But the sun seemed to have gone in, there was a lot of crying and 'Mummy will smack'ing going on and everyone seemed to be leaving.
"Bridget." It was Jude. "Do you want to come to 192 for a-" "No we don't," snapped Sharon. "We're going for a post-mortem." Which was a lie as Sharon was meeting Simon. Jude looked stricken. Oh God. Bloody Rebecca has ruined bloody everything. Though must remember not to blame others but take responsibility for everything that happens to self.
Tuesday 1 July
9st I (is working!), progress on hole in wall by Gary 0.
I think I had better accept it now. Mark and Rebecca are an item. Is nothing I can do about it. Have been reading 'The Road Less Travelled' some more and realize you can't have everything you want in life. Some of what you want but not everything you want. Is not what happens to you in life that counts but how you play the cards you are dealt. Am not going to think about the past and procession of disasters with men. Am going to think about the future. Oooh goody, telephone! Hurrah! You see!
Was Tom just ringing up for a moan. Which seemed nice. Until he said, "Oh, by the way, I saw Daniel Cleaver earlier on tonight."
"Oh really, where?" I trilled, in a gay yet strangled voice. Realize am new me and dating embarrassments of past - e.g., just to pluck an example out of the air, finding a naked woman on Daniel's roof last summer when was supposed to be going out with him - would never happen to new me. Even so, however, did not want spectre of Daniel humiliation rearing up alarmingly in manner of Loch Ness monster, or erection.
"In the Groucho Club," said Tom.
"Did you talk to him?"
"Yes."
"What did you say?" I asked dangerously. Whole point about exes is that friends should punish and ignore them, not try to get on with both sides in manner of Tony and Cherie with Charles and Diana.
"Oof. I can't remember now, exactly. I said, um: 'Why were you so horrible to Bridget when she is so nice?"'
There was something about the way he said this in manner of a parrot that suggested he may not have been quoting himself strictly word for word.
"Good," I said, "very good." I paused, determined to leave it at that and change the subject. I mean what do I care what Daniel said?
"So what did he say?" I hissed.
"He said," said Tom, then started laughing. "He said..."
"What?"
"He said..." He was practically crying with laughter now.
"What? What? WHAAAAAAAAT?"
"'How can you go out with someone who doesn't know where Germany is?"'
I let out a high-pitched hyena laugh, almost as one does when one hears one's grandmother has died and believes it to be a joke. Then the reality hit me. I clutched the side of the kitchen table, mind reeling.
"Bridge?" said Tom. "Are you all right? I was only laughing because it's so ... ridiculous. I mean of course you k
now where Germany is ... Bridge? Don't you?"
"Yes," I whispered weakly.
There was a long, awkward pause while I tried to come to terms with what had happened i.e. Daniel had chucked me because he thought I was stupid.
"So, then," said Tom, brightly. "Where is it ... Germany?"
"Europe."
"Yeah, but, like, where in Europe?"
Honestly. In the modern age it is not necessary to know where countries actually are since all that is required is to purchase a plane ticket to one. They do not exactly ask you at the travel agent's which countries you will be flying over before they will give you the ticket, do they?
"Just give us a ballpark position."
"Er," I stalled, head down, eyes flicking round the room to see if there might be an atlas at large.
"Which countries do you think Germany might be near?" he pressed on.
I thought about it carefully. "France."
"France. I see. So Germany is 'near France', is it?"
Something about the way Tom said this made me feel I'd made some cataclysmic gaff. Then it occurred to me that Germany is of course connected to Eastern Germany and therefore it is far more likely to be close to Hungary, Russia or Prague.
"Prague," I said. At which Tom burst out laughing.
"Anyway, there's no such thing as general knowledge any more," I said indignantly. "It has been proved by articles that the media has created such a great sea of knowledge that everyone cannot possibly have the same selection of it."
"Never mind, Bridge," said Tom. "Don't worry about it. Do you want to see a movie tomorrow?"
I I p.m. Yes, am just going to go to movies now and read books. What Daniel may or may not have said is a matter of supreme indifference to me.
11.15 p.m. How dare Daniel go round bad-mouthing me! How did he know I don't know where Germany is? We never even went near it. Furthest we got to was Rutland Water. Huh.
11.20 p.m. Anyway, I am really nice. So there.
11.30 p.m. Am horrible. Am stupid. Am going to start studying The Economist and also go to evening classes and read Money by Martin Amis.