Maybe you should get something to eat, he said, then suddenly bolted off towards the buffet, leaving me standing on my own by the bookshelf while everybody stared at me, thinking, So thats why Bridget isnt married. She repulses men.’
Sunday 1 January 9st 3 (but post-Christmas), alcohol units 14 (but effectively covers 2 days as 4 hours of party was on New Years Day),cigarettes 22, calories 5424.
Junction nineteen, but there was a diversion Junction nineteen! Una, she came off at Junction nineteen! Youve added an hour to your journey before you even started. Come on, lets get you a drink. Hows your love-life, anyway?’
Eventually the three of us worked out a strategy for Jude. She must stop beating herself over the head with Women Who Love Too Much and instead think more towards Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, winch will help her to see Richards behaviour less as a sign that she is co-dependent and loving too much and more in the light of him being like a Martian rubber band which needs to stretch away in order to come back.
Yes, he said eagerly. You too?’
Hope you enjoy it, I said triumphantly.
Sunday 15 January
13 cocktail sticks securing cheese and pineapple Portion Una Alconburys turkey curry, peas and bananas Portion Una Alconburys Raspberry Surprise made with Bourbon biscuits, tinned raspberries, eight gallons of whipped cream, decorated with glacé cherries and angelica.
We women are only vulnerable because we are a pioneer generation daring to refuse to compromise in love and relying on our own economic power. In twenty years time men wont even dare start with fuckwittage because we will just laugh in their faces, bellowed Sharon.
9st (excellent), alcohol units 0, cigarettes 29 (v.v. bad, esp. in 2 hours), caloriess 3879 (repulsive), negative thoughts 942 (approx. based on av. per minute), minutes spent counting negative thoughts 127 (approx.).
Tuesday 3 January 9st 4 (terrifying slide into obesity — why? why?), alcohol units 6 (excellent), cigarettes 23 (v.g.), calories 2472.
And after a few minutes more, he replied.
I looked at her wistfully, her vast, bulbous bottom swathed in a tight red skirt with a bizarre three-quarter-length striped waistcoat strapped across it. What a blessing to be born with such Sloaney arrogance. Perpetua could be the size of a Renault Espace and not give it a thought. How many hours, months, years, have I spent worrying about weight while Perpetua has been happily looking for lamps with porcelain cats as bases around the Fulham Road? She is missing out on a source of happiness, anyway. It is proved by surveys that happiness does not come from love, wealth or power but the pursuit of attainable goals: and what is a diet if not that? On way home in end-of-Christmas denial I bought a packet of cut-price chocolate tree decorations and a ￡3.69 bottle of sparkling wine from Norway, Pakistan or similar. I guzzled them by the light of the Christmas tree, together with a couple of mince pies, the last of the Christmas cake and some Stilton, while watching EastEnders, imagining it was a Christmas special.
Silverskin onion? I encouraged. Beetroot cube?’
The rich, divorced-by-cruel-wife Mark — quite tall — was standing with his back to the room, scrutinizing the contents of the Alconburys bookshelves: mainly leather-bound series of books about the Third Reich, which Geoffrey sends off for from Readers Digest. It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. Its like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting Cathy and banging your head against a tree.
Cleave Yesssss! Yessssss Daniel Cleaver wants my phone no. Am marvellous. Am irresistible Sex Goddess. Hurrah!
You know Julie, darling, Mavis Enderbys daughter. Julie! The one thats got that super-dooper job at Arthur Andersen . . . ‘
Backlash, actually, by Susan Faludi, I said triumphantly. Hah! I havent exactly read it as such, but feel I have as Sharon has been ranting about it so much. Anyway, completely safe option as no way diamond-pattern-jumpered goody-goody would have read five-hundred-page feminist treatise.
1/3 Ciabatta loaf with Brie Coriander leaves 1/2 packet 12 Milk Tray (best to get rid of all Christmas confectionery in one go and make fresh start tomorrow)
I immediately called Sharon and an emergency summit has been scheduled for 6.30 in Café Rouge. I hope I can get away without bloody Perpetua kicking up.
Oh, well, not too much . . . I said wildly, racking my brains for a way to get off the subject.
No! I bellowed. Sorry. I mean . . . ‘
The second I put the phone down I realized it was an emergency and rang Tom, who calmly said leave it to him: if he made several calls to the machine he could find the code which would let him play back and erase the message. Eventually he thought hed cracked it, but unfortunately Daniel then answered the phone. Instead of saying, Sorry, wrong number, Tom hung up. So now Daniel not only has the insane message but will think its me whos rung his answerphone fourteen times this evening and then, when I did get hold of him, banged the phone down.
Message Cleave Sir, am appalled by message. Whilst skirt could reasonably be described as a little on the skimpy side (thrift being ever our watchword in editorial), consider it gross misrepresentation to describe said skirt as absent, and considering contacting union. Jones Waited in frenzy of excitement for reply. Sure enough Message Pending quickly flashed up.
Jones.
Ah. Actually, I . . . I panicked wildly. What could I pretend to be doing? . . . think I might have to work on New Years Day.’
Hmmm. Well, anyway. What about my human right not to have to wander round with fearsome unattractiveness hang-up?
Now, though, I feel ashamed and repulsive. I can actually feel the fat splurging out from my body. Never mind. Sometimes you have to sink to a nadir of toxic fat envelopment in order to emerge, phoenix-like, from the chemical wasteland as a purged and beautiful Michelle Pfeiffer figure. Tomorrow neｗｗｗ.９9ｌib•ｎeｔw Spartan health and beauty regime will begin.
Last message read: Message Jones Wish to send bouquet to ailing skirt over weekend. Please supply home contact no asap as cannot, for obvious reasons, rely on given spelling of Jones to search in file.
Bridget! Wed almost given you up for lost! Happy New Year! Just about to start without you.’
Diane
Mmmm. Daniel Cleaver, though. Love his wicked dissolute air, while being v. successful and clever. He was being v. funny today, telling everyone about his aunt thinking the onyx kitchen-roll holder his mother had given her for Christmas was a model of a penis. Was really v. amusing about it. Also asked me if I got anything nice for Christmas in rather flirty way. Think might wear short black skirt tomorrow.
5 a.m. What s wrong with me? Im completely alone. Hate Daniel Cleaver. Am going to have nothing more to do with him. Am going to get weighed.
Look, Jones. Im really sorry. I think Im going to have give tonight a miss. Ive got a presentation at ten in the morning and a pile of forty-five spreadsheets to get through,’
At this point Alex Walker, who works in Sharons company, strolled in with a stunning blonde who was about eight times as attractive as him. He ambled over to us to say hi.
Obsessive interest in skirt suggests management sick rather than skirt. Jones Hmm. Think will cross last bit out as contains mild accusation of sexual harassment whereas v.
The worst of it was that Una Alconbury and Mum wouldnt leave it at that. They kept making me walk round with trays of gherkins and glasses of cream sherry in a desperate bid to throw me into Mark Darcys path yet again. In the end they were so crazed with frustration that the second I got within four feet of him with the gherkins Una threw herself across the room like Will Carling and said, Mark, you must take Bridgets telephone number before you go, then you can get in touch when youre in London.’
Oh, darling, you cant go around with that tatty green canvas thing. You look like some sort of Mary Poppins person whos fallen on hard times. Just a little compact case with a pull-out handle.
I. Um. Are you reading any ah . . . Have you read any good books lately? he said.
She led me through the frosted-glass doors into the lounge, shouting, She got lost, everyone!’
Ill tell you what. Why dont Jamie, Daddy and I all club together and get you a proper new big suitcase and a set of wheels?’
Noon. London: my flat. Ugh. The last thing on earth I feel physically, emotionally or mentally equipped to do is drive to Una and Geoffrey Alconburys New Years Day Turkey Curry Buffet in Grafton Underwood. Geoffrey and Una Alconbury are my parents best friends and, as Uncle Geoffrey never tires of reminding me, have known me since I was running round the lawn with no clothes on. My mother rang up at 8.30 in the morning last August Bank Holiday and forced me to promise to go. She approached it via a cunningly circuitous route.
Have you been staying with your parents over New Year?’
Not at all, said Mark Darcy awkwardly with a rather unsuccessful attempt at a smile, at which Una, after rolling her eyes, putting a hand to her bosom and giving a gay tinkling laugh, abandoned us with a toss of her head to a hideous silence.
By this time Jude and I were going, Shhh, shhh, out of the corners of our mouths and sinking down into our coats. After all, there is nothing so unattractive to a man as strident feminism.
Tuesday 24 January Heaven-sent day. At 5.30, like a gift from God, Daniel appeared, sat himself on the edge of my desk, with his back to Perpetua, took out his diary and murmured, How are you fixed for Friday?’
6 p.m. Completely exhausted by entire day of date-preparation. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised.
Sunday 8 January 9st 2 (v. bloody g. but what is point?), alcohol units 2 (excellent), cigarettes 7, calories 3100 (poor).
Mark, this is Colin and Pams daughter, Bridget, said Una, going all pink and fluttery. Bridget works in publishing, dont you, Bridget?’
Noon. Oh God. Daniel has not replied. Must be furious. Maybe he was being serious about the skirt. Oh God oh God. Have been seduced by informality of messaging medium into being impertinent to boss.
Bridget! Happy New Year! said Geoffrey Alconbury, clad in a yellow diamond-patterned sweater. He did a jokey Bruce Forsyth step then gave me the sort of hug which Boots would send straight to the police station.
Sure? Stuffed olive? I pressed on.
Is this your new girlfriend? asked Sharon.
Is there anything youd like for Christmas? I said desperately, blinking in the dazzling Bank Holiday sunlight.
Jones.
Come along and meet Mark, Una Alconbury sing-songed before Id even had time to get a drink down me.
Im sure Bridgets life in London is quite full enough already, Mrs Alconbury, he said. Humph.
Im co-dependent. I asked for too much to satisfy my own neediness rather than need. Oh, if only I could turn back the clock.’
Um . . . right. Ill get a taxi, I blurted awkwardly as we stood in the street afterwards. Then he lightly brushed a hair from my forehead, took my cheek in his hand and kissed me, urgently, desperately. After a while he held me hard against him and whispered throatily, I dont think youll be needing that taxi, Jones.’
Always takes it on her trips . . . ‘
Lost? Durr! What are we going to do with you? Come on in!’
Well, Ill leave you two young people together, said Una. Durr! I expect youre sick to death of us old fuddy-duddies.’
11 p.m. Strident evening. Sharon immediately launched into her theory on the Richard situation: Emotional fuckwittage, which is spreading like wildfire among men over thirty. As women glide from their twenties to thirties, Shazzer argues, the balance of power subtly shifts. Even the most outrageous minxes lose their nerve, wrestling with the first twinges of existential angst: 九*九*藏*书*网fears of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian. Stereotypical notions of shelves, spinning wheels and sexual scrapheaps cons ire to make you feel stupid, no matter how much time you spend thinking about Joanna Lumley and Susan Sarandon.
Friday 6 January 5.45 p.m. Could not be more joyous. Computer messaging re: presence or otherwise of skirt continued obsessively all afternoon. Cannot imagine respected boss did stroke of work. Weird scenario with Perpetua (penultimate boss), since knew I was messaging and v. angry, but fact that was messaging ultimate boss gave self conflicting feelings of loyalty — distinctly un-level playing field where anyone with ounce of sense would say ultimate boss should hold sway.
Japanese. Very cruel race.’
Then Perpetua suddenly bellowed into the phone: Daniel? Hes gone to a meeting in Croydon, Hell be in tomorrow. She banged the phone down and said, God, all these bloody girls ringing him up.’
Mark, said Una, as if she was one of Santa Clauss fairies. Ive got someone nice for you to meet.’
I racked my brain frantically to think when I last read a proper book. The trouble with working in publishing is that reading in your spare time is a bit like being a dustman and snuffling through the pig bin in the evening. Im halfway through Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, which Jude lent me, but I didnt think Mark Darcy, though clearly odd, was ready to accept himself as a Martian quite yet. Then I had a brainwave.
He turned round, revealing that what had seemed from the back like a harmless navy sweater was actually a V-neck diamond-pattern in shades of yellow and blue — as favoured by the more elderly of the nations sports reporters. As my friend Tom often remarks, its amazing how much time and money can be saved in the world of dating by close attention to detail. A white sock here, a pair of red braces there, a grey slip-on shoe, a swastika, are as often as not all one needs to tell you theres no point writing down phone numbers and forking out for expensive lunches because its never going to be a runner.
11.50 p.m. Just had dinner with Tom in Harvey Nichols Fifth Floor, who was obsessing about a pretentious-sounding freelance film maker called Jerome. Moaned to him about Daniel, who was in meetings all afternoon and only managed to say, Hi, Jones, hows the skirt? at 4.30. Tom said
Id hate to feel you were being underused.’
Yes, but does that mean I should call him or not? said Jude.
Exhausted, I held the phone away from my ear, puzzling about where the missionary luggage-Christmas-gift zeal had stemmed from. When I put the phone back she was saying: . . . in actual fact, you can get them with a compartment with bottles for your bubble bath and things. The other thing I thought of was a shopping trolley.’
Aaargh. Perpetua just walked past and started reading over shoulder. Just managed to press Alt Screen in nick of time but big mistake as merely put CV back up on screen.
Hahumph, he said, going red in the face and pulling his trousers up by the waistband. Which junction did you come off at?’
12.15. Hah. All-explained. He is in meeting with Simon from Marketing. He gave me a look when walked past. Aha. Ahahahaha. Message Pending: Message Jones If walking past office was attempt to demonstrate presence of skirt can only say that it has failed parlously. Skirt is indisputably absent. Is skirt off sick? Cleave Message Pending then flashed up again immediately.
Yessssssi Yessssss!
Also can spend ages practising. This is what sent.
11 a.m. Office. Oh my God. Daniel Cleaver just sent me a message. Was trying to work on CV without Perpetua noticing (in preparation for improving career) when Message Pending suddenly flashed up on top of screen. Delighted by, well, anything — as always am if is not work — I quickly pressed RMS Execute and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Cleave at the bottom of the message. I instantly thought he had been able to tap into the computer and see that I was not getting on with my work. But then I read the message: Message Jones You appear to have forgotten your skirt. As I think is made perfectly clear in your contract of employment, staff are expected to be fully dressed at all times.
Food consumed today: 2 pkts Emmenthal cheese slices 14 cold new potatoes 2 Bloody Marys (count as food as contain Worcester sauce and tomatoes)
What, all on its own? I said.
I dont want a little bag with wheels on.’
Julie Enderbys got one. She says she never uses anything else.’
Thank you, no, he said, looking at me with some alarm.
Whos Julie Enderby?’
Thank you, thats very kind,, I said. But I shall be taking one of my trains in the morning.’
I do indeed, I for some reason said, as if I were taking part in a Capital radio phone-in and was about to ask Una if I could say hello to my friends Jude, Sharon and Tom, my brother Jamie, everyone in the office, my mum and dad, and last of all all the people at the Turkey Curry Buffet.
He blinked at me.
whenever it should chance to pass your way, even in the mornings. Now suddenly we are all supposed to snap into self-discipline like lean teenage greyhounds.
11.45 p.m. Ugh. First day of New Year has been day of horror. Cannot quite believe I am once again starting the year in a single bed in my parents house. It is too humiliating at my age. I wonder if theyll smell it if I have a fag out of the window. Having skulked at home all day, hoping hangover would clear, I eventually gave up and set off for the Turkey Curry Buffet far too late. When I got to the Alconburys and rang their entire-tune-of-town-hallclock-style doorbell I was still in a strange world of my own — nauseous, vile-headed, acidic. I was also suffering from road-rage residue after inadvertently getting on to the M6 instead of the M1 and having to drive halfway to Birmingham before I could find anywhere to turn round. I was so furious I kept jamming my foot down to the floor on the accelerator pedal to give vent to my feelings, which is very dangerous. I watched resignedly as Una Alconburys form — intriguingly deformed through the九_九_藏_书_网 ripply glass door bore down on me in a fuchsia two-piece.
I dont know why she didnt just come out with it and say, Darling, do shag Mark Darcy over the turkey curry, wont you? Hes very rich.’
Oh God. Why cant married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask?
not to be paranoid, give it time, but I could tell he was not concentrating and only wanted to talk about Jerome as suffused with sex-lust.
Oh dear. This was return message.
Tuesday 10 January 9st 1, alcohol units 2, cigarettes 6, calories 998 (excellent, v.g. perfect saint-style person).
Towards the end I saw him being harangued by his mother and Una, who marched him over towards me and stood just behind while he said stiffly, Do you need driving back to London? Im staying here but I could get my car to take you.’
Well. Huh. You know, she thinks she is, but were not going out, were just sleeping together. I ought to stop it really, but, well . . . he said, smugly.
Bridget! What are we going to do with you! said Una. You career girls! I dont know! Cant put it off for ever, you know. Tick-tock-tick-tock.’
I dont think this skirts looking at all well, he murmured. I think it should lie down on the floor. As he started to undo the zip he whispered, This is just a bit of fun, OK? I dont think we should start getting involved. Then, caveat in place, he carried on with the zip. Had it not been for Sharon and the fuckwittage and the fact Id just drunk the best part of a bottle of wine, I think I would have sunk powerless into his arms. As it was, I leapt to my feet, pulling up my skirt.
Oh, for Gods sake.
Thursday 5 January 9st 3 (excellent progress — 21b of fat spontaneously combusted through joy and sexual promise), alcohol units 6 (v.g. for party), cigarettes 12 (continuing good work), calories 1258 (love has eradicated need to pig out).
Thank you, he said desperately, taking an olive.
Its not that I wanted him to take my phone number or anything, but I didnt want him to make it perfectly obvious to everyone that he didnt want to. As I looked down I saw that he was wearing white socks with a yellow bumblebee motif Cant I tempt you with a gherkin? I said, to show I had had a genuine reason for coming over, which was quite definitely gherkin-based rather than phone-number-related.
Yes. How does a woman manage to get to your age without being married? roared Brian Enderby (married to Mavis, used to be president of the Rotary in Kettering), waving his sherry in the air. Fortunately my dad rescued me.
Then next time, as if out of the blue, Do you remember Mark Darcy, darling? Malcolm and Elaines son? Hes one of these super-dooper top-notch lawyers. Divorced. Elaine says he works all the time and hes terribly lonely. I think he might be coming to Unas New Years Day Turkey Curry Buffet, actually.’
Considering appeal to industrial tribunal, tabloids, etc.
The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature — with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each shin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwelpeter, blind as bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence?
Monday 9 January 9st 2, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 29, calories 770 (v.g. but at what price?).
I wondered if youd like a set of wheels for your suitcase.’
Friday 27 January 9st 3 (but stuffed with Genoan food), alcohol units 8, cigarettes 400 (feels like), calories 875.
Wednesday 4 January 9st 5 (state of emergency now as if fat has been stored in capsule form over Christmas and is being slowly released under skin), alcohol units 5 (better), cigarettes 20, calories 700 (v.g.)
Its amazing how much you can get in. Do you want it in navy on red or red on navy?’
Oh, hello, darling. I was just ringing to see what you wanted for Christmas.’
No, no, she said airily. Ive got everything I need. Now, darling, she suddenly hissed, you will be coming to Geoffrey and Unas New Years Day Turkey Curry Buffet this year, wont you?’
That doesnt matter. You can drive up after work. Oh, did I mention? Malcolm and Elaine Darcy are coming and bringing Mark with them. Do you remember Mark, darling? Hes one of those top-notch barristers. Masses of money. Divorced. It doesnt start till eight.’
Nightmare day in office. Watched the door for Daniel all morning: nothing. By 11.45 a.m. I was seriously alarmed. Should I raise an alert?
Aargh. After that: zilch.
11 p.m. It is far too late for Daniel to ring. V. sad and traumatized.
Big beyond all sense. How are the ear-hair clippers?’
Going shopping.
Mum. Its eight thirty in the morning. Its summer. Its very hot. I dont want an air-hostess bag.’
7 p.m. Cannot believe this has happened. On the way to the bathroom, to complete final farming touches, I noticed the answerphone light was flashing: Daniel.
Cannot believe it. Am stood up. Entire waste of whole days bloody effort and hydroelectric body-generated power. However, one must not live ones life through men but must be complete in oneself as a woman of substance.
Oh, marvellously — you know — clippy.’
Message Jones If skirt is indeed sick, please look into how many days sick leave skirt has taken in previous twelvemonth. Spasmodic nature of recent skirt attendance suggests malingering Cleave Just sending back: Message Cleave Skirt is demonstrably neither sick nor abscent. Appalled by managements blatently sizist attitude to skirt.
Message Cleave Skirt is demonstrably neither sick nor abscent. Appalled by managements blatently sizist attitude to skirt.
8 p.m. Phone call alert, which turned out to be just Tom, asking if there was any telephonic progress. Tom, who has taken, unflatteringly, to calling himself a hag-fag, has been sweetly supportive about the Daniel crisis. Tom has a theory that homosexuals and single women in their thirties have natural bonding: both being accustomed to disappointing their parents and being treated as fre99lib.netaks by society. He indulged me while I obsessed to him about my unattractiveness crisis — precipitated, as I told him, first by bloody Mark Darcy then by bloody Daniel at which point he said, I must say not particularly helpfully, Mark Darcy? But isnt he that famous lawyer — the human-rights guy?’
Message Jones Thanks for your phone call. Cleave.
Slunk into the office crippled with embarrassment about the message. I had resolved totally to detach myself from Daniel but then he appeared looking unnervingly sexy and started making everyone laugh so that I went all to pieces.
How dare he say you were getting too serious by asking to go on holiday with him? yelled Sharon. What is he talking about?’
12.10. Maybe he has not got it yet. If one could get message back. Think will go for walk and see if can somehow go into Daniels office and erase it.
PS. I like your tits in that top.
We wouldnt rush up to them and roar, Hows your marriage going? Still having sex? Everyone knows that dating in your thirties is not the happy-go-lucky free-for-all it was when you were twenty-two and that the honest answer is more likely to be, Actually, last night my married lover appeared wearing suspenders and a darling little Angora crop-top, told me he was gay/a sex addict/a narcotic addict/a commitment phobic and beat me up with a dildo, than, Super, thanks.’
2 p.m. Oh God, why am I so unattractive? Cannot believe I convinced myself I was keeping the entire weekend free to work when in fact I was on permanent date-with-Daniel standby. Hideous, wasted two days glaring psychopathically at the phone, and eating things. Why hasnt he ring?
Thinking moonily about Daniel Cleaver, I ventured that not all men are like Richard. At which point Sharon started on a long illustrative list of emotional fuckwittage in progress amongst our friends: one whose boyfriend of thirteen years refuses even to discuss living together; another who went out with a man four times who then chucked her because it was getting too serious; another who was pursued by a bloke for three months with impassioned proposals of marriage, only to find him ducking out three weeks after she succumbed and repeating the whole process with her best friend.
Yuk. Every time my mothers rung up for weeks its been, Of course you remember the Darcys, darling. They came over when we were living in Buckingham and you and Mark played in the paddling pool! or, Oh! Did I mention Malcolm and Elaine are bringing Mark with them to Unas New Years Day Turkey Curry Buffet? Hes just back from America, apparently. Divorced. Hes looking for a house in Holland Park. Apparently he had the most terrible time with his wife.
It was all right, I suppose. I would have felt a bit mean if I hadnt turned up, but Mark Darcy. . .
4 p.m. Office. State of emergency. Jude just rang up from her portable phone in flood of tears, and eventually managed to explain, in a sheeps voice, that she had just had to excuse herself from a board meeting (Jude is Head of Futures at Brightlings) as she was about to burst into tears and was now trapped in the ladies with Alice Cooper eyes and no make-up bag. Her boyfriend, Vile Richard (self-indulgent commitment phobic), whom she has been seeing on and off for eighteen months, had chucked her for asking him if he wanted to come on holiday with her. Typical, but Jude naturally was blaming it all on herself.
Not being a natural liar, I ended up mumbling shamefacedly to Geoffrey, Fine, at which point he boomed, So you still havent got a feller!’
Cleave Was just feeling crestfallen when Daniel walked past with Simon from Marketing and shot a very sexy look at my skirt with one eyebrow raised. Love the lovely computer messaging. Must work on spelling, though. After all, have degree in English.
Panic stricken, I reached for the Silk Cut. Which girls? What? Somehow I made it through the day, got home, and in a moment of insanity left a message on Daniels answerphone, saying (oh no, I cant believe I did this), Hi, its Jones here. I was just wondering how you are and if you wanted to meet for the skirt-health summit, like you said.’
9 a.m. Ugh. Cannot face thought of go to work. Only thing which makes it tolerable is thought of seeing Daniel again, but even that is inadvisable since am fat, have spot on chin, and desire only to sit on cushion eating chocolate and watching Xmas specials. It seems wrong and unfair that Christmas, with its stressful and unmanageable financial and emotional challenges, should first be forced upon one wholly against ones will, then rudely snatched away just when one is starting to get into it. Was really beginning to enjoy the feeling that normal service was suspended and it was OK to lie in bed as long as you want, put anything you fancy into your mouth, and drink alcohol
That is just such crap, I slurred. How dare you be so fraudulently flirtatious, cowardly and dysfunctional? I am not interested in emotional fuckwittage. Goodbye.’
Cleave Hah! Undeniably flirtatious. Thought for a little while whilst pretending to study tedious-beyond-belief manuscript from lunatic Have never messaged Daniel Cleaver before but brilliant thing about messaging system is you can be really quite cheeky and informal, even to your boss.
Sorry. I got lost.’
Message Jones Absent, Jones, not abscent. Blatantly, not Blatently. Please attempt to acquire at least perfunctory grasp of spelling. Though by no means trying to suggest language fixed rather than constantly adapting, fluctuating tool of communication (cf Hoenigswald)
computer spell check might help.
11 p.m. Humph. He might have bloody well rung again, though. Is probably out with someone thinner.
The second we were inside his flat we upon each other like beasts: shoes, jackets, strewn in a trail across the room.
Im very pleased to see you, Bridget, he said, taking my arm. Your mother has the entire Northamptonshire constabulary poised to comb the county with toothbrushes for your dismembered remains. Come and demonstrate your presence so I can start enjoying myself. Hows the be-wheeled suitcase?’
I couldnt stop myself turning bright red. I could feel 九_九_藏_书_网it climbing up my neck. Now Mark would think Id put her up to it.
Monday 16 January 9 st 2 (from where? why? why?), alcohol units 0, cigarettes 20, calories 1500, positive thoughts 0.
Mum . . . ‘
Now come along, darling. Una and Geoffrey have been holding the New Year Buffet since you were running round the lawn with no clothes on! Of course youre going to come. And youll be able to use your new suitcase.’
9 p.m. Still, he is in top-level job. Maybe be didnt want to ruin first date with underlying work-panic.
It was great. You should have seen his face. But no I am home I am sunk into gloom. I may have been right, but my reward, I know, will be to end up all alone, half-eaten by an Alsatian.
10 p.m. Ugh. Perpetua, slightly senior and therefore thinking she is in charge of me, was at her most obnoxious and bossy, going on and on to the point of utter boredom about latest half-million-pound property she is planning to buy with her rich-but-overbred boyfriend, Hugo: Yars, yars, well it is north-facing but theyve done something frightfully clever with the light.’
2 a.m. Oh, why am I so unattractive? Why? Even a man who wears bumblebee socks thinks I am horrible. Hate the New Year. Hate everyone. Except Daniel Cleaver. Anyway, have got giant tray-sized bar of Cadburys Dairy Milk left over from Christmas on dressing table, also amusing joke gin and tonic miniature. Am going to consume them and have fag.
Cleave . . . And we were off. Frantic messaging continued all week, culminating in him suggesting a date for Sunday night and me dizzyingly, euphorically, accepting. Sometimes I look around the office as we all tap away and wonder if anyone is doing any work at all.
Oh, that is just such crap, you cowardly, dysfunctional little schmuck. Right. Im going to talk to that woman, said Sharon, getting up. Jude and I forcibly restrained her while Alex, looking panic-stricken, rushed back, to continue his fuckwittage unrumbled.
No, really.’
And men like Richard, fumed Sharon, play on the chink in the armour to wriggle out of commitment, maturity, honour and the natural progression of things between a man and a woman.’
Suddenly, Message Pending flashed up on the top of my computer screen.
Message Jones Sorry to interrupt, Jones, pressure must be hellish. Over and out.
(Is it just me or is Sunday a bizarre night for a first date? All wrong, like Saturday morning or Monday at 2 p.m.)
10.36 a.m. Office. Daniel is still locked in his meeting. Maybe it was a genuine excuse.
But I havent got a suitcase.
Ah. Really? he said. I read that when it first came out. Didnt you find there was rather a lot of special pleading?’
Do let me know when youve finished reading, wont you? said Perpetua, with a nasty smirk.
Pressed RMS: Will whoever has thoughtlessly removed the edited script of KAFKAS MOTORBIKE from my desk PLEASE have the decency to return it immediately.
Ive already got a bag.’
Oh God. Not another strangely dressed opera freak with bushy hair burgeoning from a side-parting. Mum, Ive told you. I dont need to be fixed up with . . . ‘
Yes. No. I was at a party in London last night. Bit hungover, actually. I gabbled nervously so that Una and Mum wouldnt think I was so useless with men I was failing to talk to even Mark Darcy. But then I do think New Years resolutions cant technically be expected to begin on New Years Day, dont you? Since, because its an extension of New Years Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Years Day isnt a good idea as you cant eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second.’
Huh. Had dream date at an intime little Genoan restaurant near Daniels flat.
My heart sank. That phone call was suggesting a date. Who replies by saying thanks and leaves it at that unless they but after a little thought, I sent back: Message Cleave Please shut up. I am very busy and important.
Why? Whats wrong with me? Why ask for my phone number if he wasnt going to ring, and if he was going to ring surely he would & it over the weekend? Must centre myself more. Will ask Jude about appropriate self-help book, possible Eastern-religion-based.
much enjoying being sexually harassed by Daniel Cleaver.
No, said Sharon just as I was saying, Yes. After Jude had gone because she has to get up at 5.45 to go to the gym and see her personal shopper before work starts at 8.30 (mad) — Sharon and I were suddenly filled with remorse and self-loathing for not advising Jude simply to get rid of Vile Richard because he is vile. But then, as Sharon pointed out, last time we did that they got back together and she told him everything wed said in a fit of reconcilatory confession and now it is cripplingly embarrassing every time we see him and he thinks we are the Bitch Queens from Hell — which, as Jude points out, is a misapprehension because, although we have discovered our Inner Bitches, we have not yet unlocked them.
1 p.m. Just saw Daniel leaving for lunch. He has not messaged me or anything. V. depressed.
Durr! Mark has a company car and a driver, silly, said Una.
She seemed to manage to kiss me, get my coat off, hang it over the banister, wipe her lipstick off my cheek and make me feel incredibly guilty all in one movement, while I leaned against the ornament shelf for support.
Being set up with a man against your will is one level of humiliation, but being literally dragged into it by Una Alconbury while caring for an acidic hangover, watched by an entire roomful of friends of your parents, is on another plane altogether.
The second she was safely back on the phone — I mean frankly, Mr Birkett, what is the point in putting three to four bedrooms when it is going to be obvious the second we appear that bedroom four is an airing cupboard? — I got back to work. This is what I am about to send.
Why dont I get you a little suitcase with wheels attached. You know, like air hostesses have.’