He took it into his head, therefore, to tell the girl he couldnt see her because his sister had turned up unexpectedly for the evening and he had to entertain her, adding wildly that he also had to watch some videos for work before the morning; at which point the girl reminded him that hed told her he didnt have any brothers or sisters and suggested he come and watch the videos at her place while she cooked him supper. However, there were no work videos to take round and watch, so he had to construct a further cobweb of lies. The incident culminated with the girl, convinced he was having an affair with someone else when it was only their second date, chucking him, and Simon spending the evening getting hammered alone with his spot, wearing his seventies jacket.

Thursday 16 February 8st 12 (weight loss through use of stairs), alcohol units 0 (excellent), cigarettes 5 (excellent), calories 2452 (not vg.), times gone down stairs to check for Valent-ne-type envelope 18 (bad psychologically but v.g. exercise).

Im going out, darling, she said. Im going out to get laid.’

9 a.m. Card is still there.

Noooooooo! he yelled. He asked me various probing questions: for example, what Daniels

Mother, I said. Tom has known he was a homosexual since he was ten.’

Thursday 9 February 9st 2 (extra fat presumably caused by winter whale blubber), alcohol units 4, cigarettes 12 (v.g.), calories 2845 (v. cold).

still, both sexually and spiritually fulfilling. I even began to wonder about putting an ad in the lonely hearts column of the Lancet. I could take his messages, tell patients wanting night visits to bugger off, cook him little goat cheese soufflés, then end up in a foul mood with him when I am sixty, like Mum.

Have you noticed anything odd about your mother? he said in a stiff, embarrassed way as he fiddled around with the oil stick, wiping it with rags and plunging it back in a not unworrying manner, if one were a Freudian. Which I am not.

9.30 p.m. Still there. Could stand it no longer. Could tell Vanessa was in as cooking smells emanating from flat, so knocked on door. I think this must be for you, I said, holding out the card as she opened the door.

Ooh. Tell us more, said Woney.

Oh no. Why do they do this? Why? Maybe the Smug Marrieds only mix with other Smug Marrieds and dont known how to relate to individuals any more. Maybe they really do want to patronize us and make us feel like failed human beings. Or maybe they are in such a sexual rut theyre thinking, Theres a whole other world out there, and hoping for vicarious thrills by getting us to tell them the roller-coaster details of our sex lives.

Oh, darling! Honestly You know how people get these silly ideas. You can always talk them out of it.’

So why are you being so mean to Dad? I said.

Now youre just being silly, darling, she said.

I tried to explain to Mum that she wasnt telling the truth, but she was so suffused with lust that she had lost sight of, well, everything.

Message Jones Frigid cow.

Oh, you must mean Julian, she trilled.

Thought all would be resolved with Daniel on Monday but he wasnt there. Nor yesterday.

8st 12 (heavy internal weight completely vanished — mystery), alcohol units I (v.g.), cigarettes 9 (v.g.), calories 1800 (g.).

She did seem unusually aerated about homosexuality.’

9 p.m. Still there.

Perpetua P.S. Bridgets skirt is not feeling at all well and have sent it home.

Inside it said, A piece of ridiculous and meaningless commercial exploitation — for my darling little frigid cow.’

On Sunday went for huge, lard-smeared lunch at my parents. Mother is bright orange and more opinionated than ever having just returned from week in Albufeira with Una Alconbury and Nigel Coles wife, Audrey.

9.50 a.m. Hmmm. think will go inspect make-up in case he does come in.

Awake, alone, to find myself imagining my mother in bed with Julio Consumed with repulsion at vision of parental, or rather demi-parental sex; outrage on behalf of father; heady, selfish optimism at example of another thirty years of unbridled passion ahead of me (not unrelated to frequent thoughts of Goldie Hawn and Susan Sarandon); but mainly extreme sense of jealousy of failure and foolishness at being in bed alone on Sunday morning while my mother aged over sixty is probably just about to do it for the second . . . Oh my God. No. I cant bear to think about it.

So, bellowed Cosmo, pouring me a drink. Hows your love-life?’

On top of everything else, must go to Smug Married dinner party at Magda and Jeremys tonight. Such occasions always reduce my ego to size of snail, which is not to say am not grateful to be asked. I love Magda and Jeremy. Sometimes I stay at their house, admiring the crisp sheets and many storage jars full of different kinds of pasta, imagining that they are my parents. But when they are together with their married friends I feel as if I have turned into Miss Havisham.

Midnight. Ugh. Completely exhausted. Surely it is not normal to be revising for a date as if it were a job interview? Suspect Daniels enormously well read brain may turn out to be something of a nuisance if things develop. Maybe I should have fallen for someone younger and mindless who would cook for me, wash all my clothes and agree with everything I say. Since leaving work I have nearly slipped a disc, wheezing through a step aerobics class, scratched my naked body for seven minutes with a stiff brush; cleaned the flat; filled the fudge, plucked my eyebrows, skimmed the papers and the Ultimate Se九九藏书x Guide, put the washing in and waxed my own legs, since it was

Well yes, and . . . well, you know, the usual, er qualities.’

Rang Mum and Dad again tonight but no one answered. V. weird.

Shes been like this since she went to Albufeira with Una Alconbury and Audrey Coles, he sobbed, trying to wipe his cheek with his fist. When she got back she started saying she wanted to be paid for doing the housework, and shed wasted her life being our slave. (Our slave? I knew it.

I reeled. Part of the arrogance of youth (well, I say youth) is the assumption that your parents will drop whatever they are doing and welcome you with open arms the second you decide to turn up. He was back. Bridget, look, your mother and I are having some problems. Can we ring you later in the week?’

behaviour had been like over the last few days when, having sent the card, he had had no response from me. I reported that he had seemed flirtier than usual. Toms prescription was wait till next week and remain aloof.

Daniel will be back in the office today. I shall be poised and cool and remember that I am a woman of substance and do not need men in order to be complete, especially not him, Am not going to message him or indeed take any notice of him whatsoever.

I slumped into my seat muttering, Shud-urrrrrrrp, out of the side of my mouth like a humiliated teenager.

11.45 p.m. Oh God. It was me, four married couples and Jeremys brother (forget it, red braces and face. Calls girls fillies).

Monday 13 February 9st 1, alcohol units 5, cigarettes 0 (spiritual enrichment removes need to smoke — massive breakthrough), calories 2845.

Jamie and I are your children too, I interjected, hurt.

I thought she was going to get hold of my earlobe and start twisting it or something.

Seriously, old girl, he said, ignoring me. Office is full of them, single girls over thirty. Fine physical specimens. Cant get a chap.’

11.00 a.m. Tee hee. Just logged on as Perpetua to give Daniel a fright.

We are both too polite to take it.

You mean apart from being bright orange? I said.

Decided to have cappuccino and chocolate croissants on way to work to cheer self up. Do not care about figure. Is no point as no one loves or cares about me.

Getting a bit of a shag, old girl? said Jeremy. All eyes turned to me, beadily. Mouths open, slavering.

Sunday 12 February

Just got home from shopping to message from my dad asking if I would meet him for lunch on Sunday. I went hot and cold. My dad does not come up to London to have lunch with me on his own on Sundays. He has roast beef, or salmon and new potatoes, at home with Mum. Dont ring back, the message said. Ill just see you tomorrow.’

Well, Bridget! she bellowed so that everyone could hear. How many did you get?’

This was an immediate giveaway. My parents do not describe their friends by their Christian names. It is always Una Alconbury, Audrey Coles, Brian Enderby: You know David Ricketts, darling — married to Anthea Ricketts, whos in the Lifeboat. Its a gesture to the fact that they know in their hearts I have no idea who Mavis Enderby is, even though theyre going to talk about Brian and Mavis Enderby for the next forty minutes as if Ive known them intimately since I was four.

I confronted her with this hunch. She denied it. She even came out with some elaborately concocted tale about Julian bumping into her in the Marble Arch Marks and Spencer, making her drop her new Le Creuset terrine dish on her foot and taking her for a coffee in Selfridges from which sprang a firm platonic friendship based entirely on department store coffee shops.

There we were, just him and me, caught in a massive electrical-charge field, pulled together irresistibly, like a pair of magnets. Then suddenly the lift stopped and we broke apart, panting, as Simon from Marketing got in wearing a hideous beige raincoat over his fat frame. Bridget, he said smirkily, as I involuntarily straightened my skirt, you look as if youve been caught playing with matches.’

Problems? What problems? I tried to get Dad to explain but got nowhere. What is going on? Is the whole world doomed to emotional trauma? Poor Dad. Am I to be the tragic victim of a broken home now, on top of everything else?

Go on, I said, and she slit open the envelope with the kitchen knife she was holding. It was rather an arty card as if it might have been bought in an art gallery.

11 a.m. Oh God, I cant have them both arriving at the same time. It is too Brian Rix for words.

Ooh, they look nice, she said enviously. Who are they from?’

Brief moment of wild joy when discovered bunch of roses in the hallway. Daniel! Rushed down and gleefully picked them up just as the downstairs-flat door opened and Vanessa came out.

Saturday 25 February 8st 10 (miracle: sex proved indeed to be best form of exercise), alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, calories 200 (at last have found the secret of not eating: simply replace food with sex).

Magnanimous offer to pay caring surprise visit met by odd-sounding Dad on end of phone.

Er . . . Im not sure, dear. Could you hang on?’

Eventually Mum picked it up sounding odd and saying she couldnt talk now but would call me at the weekend.

I knew straight away that Julian would not turn out to be involved in any Lifeboat luncheons, nor would he have a wife who was in any Lifeboats, Rotaries or Friends of St. Georges. I sensed also that she had met him in Portugal, before the trouble with Dad, and he might well turn out to be not so much Julian but Julio. I sensed that, 九九藏书lets face it, Julio was the trouble with Dad.

Its just laziness darling, was her view on the whole homosexuality issue. They simply cant be bothered to relate to the opposite sex. Look at your Tom. I really think if that boy had anything about him hed be going out with you properly instead of all this ridiculous, "friends" nonsense.

You watch, warned Tom. Hell be gagging for it now. Gagging.’

— and that as far as he was concerned his lifetimes work was over and mine was still carrying on, which is exactly how I used to feel when You were little and it got to the weekends. You only get one life. Ive just made a decision to change things a bit and spend whats left of mine looking after me for a change.’

Valentines Day purely commercial, cynical enterprise, anyway. Matter of supreme indifference to me.

I knew you didnt get any, crowed Perpetua. It was only then that I noticed Daniel was listening to us across the room and laughing.

Whats going on? I went round the corner, shaking, for some Silk Cut. Got back to find message from Mum. She too is coming to see me for lunch tomorrow, apparently. Shell bring a piece of salmon with her, and will be here about 1 oclock.

She said I thought the clitoris was something from Nigel Coless lepidoptery collection.’

8 a.m. Oooh, goody. Valentines Day. Wonder if the post has come yet. Maybe there will be a card from Daniel. Or a secret admirer. Or some flowers or heart-shaped chocolates. Quite excited, actually.

Come on! How many?’

So, it transpired, in order to oblige, Dad is moving into the Alconburys dead grannys flat at the bottom of their garden.

10.05 a.m. Heart gave great lurch when got back from loos and saw Daniel standing with Simon from Marketing at the photocopier. The last time I saw him he was lying on his sofa looking completely nonplussed while I fastened my skirt and ranted about fuckwittage. Now he was looking all sort of Ive been away — fresh faced and healthy-looking. As I passed he looked pointedly at my skirt and gave me a huge grin.

Never mind. Look, this is for you, said Vanessa, encouragingly. It was an Access bill.

This is all my fault. If I were a better person, Mum would not have stopped loving Dad.) She wants me to move out for a while, she says, and . . . and. . . . He collapsed in quiet sobs.

9 p.m. Just got back and card is still there.

Oh, for heavens sake, John, Mum snapped, which struck me as odd as she doesnt usually snap at Dad.

Does that mean if I talked to you really persuasively youd leave Dad and start an affair with Auntie Audrey?’

Called Tom for second opinion, particularly on whether I should call Daniel over the weekend.

Oh, I thought it must be for you, she said.

10.35 a.m. Seems rude not to reply, though.

By this time Id had a good half-pint of 82 Pauillac myself. Is it one in three marriages that end in divorce now or one in two? I slurred with a pointless attempt at sarcasm.

11.p.m. Unbelievable. The card is still there. Maybe Vanessa hasnt got back yet.

10.47 a.m. Ill just send him a tiny friendly message, nothing flirtatious, just to restore good relations.

9.47 a.m. Or gone to Las Vegas and got married.

Message Cleave It is hard enough as it is, trying to meet your targets without people wasting my

No, he wont, I said sadly. Ive blown it.’

I let out a high-pitched noise.

Got home to answerphone message from my brother Jamie. Called him straight away and told him everything. Oh, for Gods sake Bridge, he said, roaring with laughter. Youre so obsessed with sex if you saw Mum taking communion Youd think she was giving the Vicar a blow-job. Get any Valentines this year, did you? Actually, yes, I breathed crossly. At which he burst out laughing again, then said he had to go because he and Becca were off to do Tai Chi in the park.

11 p.m. Oh God. Why hasnt Daniel rung? Are we going out now, or what? How come my mum can slip easily from one relationship to another and I cant even get the simplest thing off the ground. Maybe their generation is just better at getting on with relationships? Maybe they dont mooch about being all paranoid and diffident. Maybe it helps if youve never read a self-help book in your life.

I laughed. I couldnt help myself. When I looked across to his little glass office he was smiling at me in a relieved and fond sort of way. Anyway, am not going to message him back.

Shall we open it? I said.

Oh God. Valentines Day tomorrow. Why? Why? Why is entire world geared to make people not involved in romance feel stupid when everyone knows romance does not work anyway. Look at royal family. Look at Mum and Dad.

Suddenly I realize I am waiting for the phone again. How can it be that the situation between the sexes after a first night remains so agonizingly imbalanced? Feel as if I have just sat an exam and must wait for my results.

Called Mum up to confront her about the late-in-life smoothie I saw her with after our lunch.

Wise people will say Daniel should like me just as I am, but I am a child of Cosmopolitan culture, have been traumatized by super-models and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devices. I cant take the pressure. I am going to cancel and spend the evening eating doughnuts in a cardigan with egg on it.

Got into the office to find Perpetua had a bunch of flowers the size of a sheep on her desk.

The whole thing is ridiculous and meaningless. Complete commercial exploitation.’

Maybe the whole lunch thing is just a parental prac九-九-藏-书-网tical joke brought on by over-exposure of my parents to Noel Edmonds, popular television and similar. Perhaps my mother will arrive with a live salmon flipping skittishly on a lead and announce that she is leaving Dad for it. Maybe Dad will appear hanging upside-down outside the window dressed as a Morris dancer, crash in and start hitting Mum over the bead with a sheeps bladder; or suddenly fall face downwards out of the airing cupboard with a plastic knife stuck in his back. The only thing which can possibly get everything back on course is a Bloody Mary. Its nearly the afternoon, after all.

I racked my brains. I cant say I did, to be honest, other than seeming very sort of blooming and confident.’

Tom was completely right. I have been so preoccupied with Mum and Dad, and so tired from taking Dads distraught phone calls, I have hardly been noticing Daniel at all: with the miraculous result that he has been all over me. I made a complete arse of myself today, though. I got in the lift to go out for a sandwich and found Daniel in there with Simon from Marketing, talking about footballers being arrested for throwing matches. Have you heard about this, Bridget? said Daniel.

10 p.m. Daniel and I messaged each other all day. But there is no way I am going to sleep with him.

Rang Jamie again and got 20 seconds of Bruce Springsteen and then Jamie growling, Baby, I was born to run . . . out of time on the answerphone.’

Times running out.’

Tuesday 14 February 9st, alcohol units 2 (romantic Valentines Day treat 2 bottles Becks, on own, huh), cigarettes 12, calories 1545.

Monday 6 February

Friday 17 February 8st 12, alcohol units 1 (v.g.) cigarettes 2 (v.g.), calories 3241 (bad but burnt off by stairs), checks on card 12 (obsessive).

Means nothing to me she said, holding out the card.

At dinner Magda had placed me, in an incestuous-sex-sandwich sort of way, between Cosmo and Jeremys crashing bore of a brother. You really ought to hurry up and get sprogged up, you know, old girl, said Cosmo, pouring a quarter of a pint of 82 Pauillac straight down his throat.

I once heard my friend Simon canceling a date with a girl — on whom he was really keen — because he had a spot with a yellow head just to the right of his nose, and because, owing to a laundry crisis he had gone to work in a ludicrous late-seventies jacket, assuming he could pick his normal jacket up from the cleaners at lunchtime, but the cleaners hadnt done it.

Just you wait, she said darkly. Youll find out what men are like.’

On the way in on the tube you could see who had had Valentine cards and who hadnt. Everyone was looking round trying to catch each others eye and either smirking or looking away defensively.

Wednesday 22 February 9st, alcohol units 2, cigarettes 9, fat units 8 (unexpectedly repulsive notion: never before faced reality of lard splurging from bottom and thighs under skin. Must revert to calorie counting tomorrow).

I dont know! I said coyly, glancing down at the card. Ah . . . I tailed off. Theyre for you.’

12.05 p.m. Mum called. Let him come then, she said. Let him bloody well have his own way as usual. (My mum does not swear. She says things like ruddy and Oh my godfathers.) Ill be all right on my bloody own. Ill just clean the house like Germaine sodding Greer and the Invisible Woman. (Could she possibly, conceivably, have been drunk? My mum has drunk nothing but a single cream sherry on a Sunday night since 1952, when she got slightly tipsy on a pint of cider at Mavis Enderbys twenty-first and has never let herself or anyone else forget it. Theres nothing worse than a woman drunk, darling.)

10.30 a.m. Message Pending flashed up on screen. Pressed RMS to pick up message.

Thats not a problem I have, actually, I breathed, waving my fag in the air.

At 2 oclock Dad arrived at the door with a neatly folded copy of the Sunday Telegraph. As he sat down on the sofa, his face crumpled and tears began to splosh down his cheeks.

I didnt say anything to Mum at the time, just said goodbye, then doubled back and followed her to make sure I wasnt imagining things. Sure enough, I eventually found her in the perfume department wandering round with the tall smoothie, spraying her wrists with everything in sight, holding them up to his face and laughing coquettishly.

Saturday 11 February 8st 13, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 18, calories 1467(but burnt off by shopping)

8 p.m. Blimey. Computer messaging somehow whipped itself up to fever pitch. At 6 oclock I resolutely put my coat on and left, only to meet Daniel getting into my lift on the floor below.

Oh yes, I lied, groping for an opinion. Actually, I think its all rather petty. I know its a thuggish way to behave, but as long as they didnt actually set light to anyone I dont see what all the fuss is about.’

Cleave.

Spent the weekend struggling to remain disdainfully buoyant after the Daniel fuckwittage debacle.

10 p.m. Just called Sharon and recounted whole thing to her. She said I should not allow my head to be turned by a cheap card and should lay off Daniel as he is not a very nice person and no good will come of it.

She pulled a face.

Sunday 26 February 9st, alcohol units 5 (drowning sorrows), cigarettes 23 (fumigating sorrows), calories 3856 (smothering sorrows in fat-duvet).

This is the third time I have called Mum and Dad this week and got no reply. Maybe The Gables has been cut off by the snow? In desperation, I pick up the phone and dial my brother Jamies number in Manchester, only to gwww.99lib.netet one of his hilarious answerphone messages: the sound of running water and Jamie pretending to be President Clinton in the White House, then a toilet flushing and his pathetic girlfriend tittering in the background.

Mum had been to church and suddenly realized in a St Paul-on-road-to-Damascus-type blinding flash that the vicar is gay.

At last I got to the bottom of Mum and Dad. I was beginning to suspect a post-Portuguese-holiday Shirley-Valentine-style scenario and that I would open the Sunday People to see my mother sporting dyed blond hair and a leopard-skin top sitting on a sofa with someone in stone-washed jeans called Gonzales and explaining that, if you really love someone, a forty-six year age gap really doesnt matter.

Hmm. I know. Think Ill go and see Mum and Dad again as am worried about Dad. Then will feel like caring angel or saint.

9 p.m. V. much enjoying the Winter Wonderland and reminder that we are at the mercy of the elements, and should not concentrate so hard on being sophisticated or hardworking but on staying warm and watching the telly.

And what, Dad?’

But as the rosy clouds begin to disperse, I begin to feel alarm. What now? No plans were made.

God, sorry about that lot. Will you be OK, hon? whispered Magda, who knew how I was feeling.

9.36 a.m. Oh God, oh God. Maybe hes fallen in love in New York and stayed there.

too late to book an appointment. Ended up kneeling on a towel trying to pull off a wax strip firmly stuck to the back of my calf while watching Newsnight in an effort to drum up some interesting opinions about things. My back hurts, my head aches and my legs are bright red and covered in lumps of wax.

10 p.m. Still there.

Though heartbroken by my parents distress, I have to admit parallel and shameful feeling of smugness over my new role as carer and, though I say it myself, wise counselor. It is so long since I have done anything at all for anyone else that it is a totally new and heady sensation. This is what has been missing in my life. I am having fantasies about becoming a Samaritan or Sunday school teacher, making soup for the homeless (or, as my friend Tom suggested, darling mini-bruschettas with pesto sauce), or even retraining as a doctor. Maybe going out with a doctor would be better

Oh my Cod, its eleven oclock, shrieked Woney. The babysitter! and they all leapt to their feet and started getting ready to go home.

9.30 a.m. Humph. Daniel does not seem to be here yet.

The card is still there! Obviously it is like eating the last Milk Tray or taking the last slice of cake.

Sunday 19 February

As I went to the till to pay, I was thinking it all over and trying, as a feminist, to see Mums point of view. Then my eye was caught by a tall, distinguished-looking man with grey hair, a European-style leather jacket and one of those gentlemans handbag things. He was looking into the café, tapping his watch and raising his eyebrows, I wheeled round and caught my mother mouthing, Wont be a mo, and nodding towards me apologetically.

Darling, its merely a question of realizing, when your father retired, that I had spent thirty-five years without a break running his home and bringing up his children — ‘

Saturday 18 February 9st, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 6, calories 2746, correct lottery numbers 2 (v,g.).

Oh no, that was just the Vicars new vestments which set her off this morning. They were a little on the frou-frou side, to tell the truth. Hes just come back from a trip to Rome with the Abbot of Dumfries. Dressed from head to toe in rose pink. No, I mean did you notice anything different from usual about Mummy?’

But I already . . . I began.’

Why, when people are leaving their partners because theyre having an affair with someone else, do they think it will seem better to pretend there is no one else involved? Do they think it will be less hurtful for their partners to think they just walked out because they couldnt stand them any more and then had the good fortune to meet some tall Omar Sharif-figure with a gentlemans handbag two weeks afterwards while the ex-partner is spending his evenings bursting into tears at the sight of the toothbrush mug? Its like those people who invent a lie as an excuse rather than the truth, even when the truth is better than the lie.

You should have said "Im not married because Im a Singleton, you smug, prematurely ageing, narrow-minded morons," Shazzer ranted. "And because theres more than one bloody way to live: one in four households are single, most of the royal family are single, the nations young men have been proved by surveys to be completely unmarriageable, and as a result theres a whole generation of single girls like me with their own incomes and homes who have lots of fun and dont need to wash anyone elses socks. Wed be as happy as sandboys if people like you didnt conspire to make us feel stupid just because youre jealous."‘

Hmmm, he said. Anyway. Best get off before it gets dark. Send my love to Jude. Hows she doing?’

2 p.m. The last remaining tiny bathmat of security has been pulled from under my feet.

Singletons! I shouted happily. Hurrah for the Singletons!’

Because I dont want to end up like you, you fat, boring, Sloaney milch cow, was what I should have said, or, Because if I had to cook Cosmos dinner then get into the same bed as him just once, let alone every night, Id tear off my head and eat it, or, Because actually, Woney, underneath my clothes, my entire body is covered in scales. But I didnt becau九*九*藏*书*网se, ironically enough, I didnt want to hurt her feelings. So I merely simpered apologetically, at which point someone called Alex piped up, Well, you know, once you get past a certain age . . . ‘

6 p.m. Oh joy. Have spent the day in a state I can only describe as shag-drunkenness, mooning about the flat, smiling, picking things up and putting them down again. It was so lovely. The only down points were 1) immediately after it was over Daniel said, Damn. I meant to take the car into the Citro?n garage, and 2) when I got up to go to the bathroom he pointed out that I had a pair of tights stuck to the back of my calf.

Yes, why arent you married yet, Bridget? sneered Woney (babytalk for Fiona, married to Jeremys friend Cosmo) with a thin veneer of concern whilst stroking her pregnant stomach.

Simon looked at me as if I was mad and Daniel stared for a moment and then burst out laughing. He just laughed and laughed till he and Simon got out and then turned back and said, Marry me, as the doors closed between us. Hmmmm.

OK. I handed it to her, she gave it back to me, giggling. I gave it back to her. I love girls.

So who is it, then? said Cosmo.

ahahahahahaha! — is just a friend. I just need some space.’

10.45 a.m. God, Im bored.

Youre really becoming very cynical and suspicious, darling. she said. Julio — aha!

Wanta lift or anything? said Jeremys brother, following it up with a belch, Actually, Im going on to a nightclub. I trilled, hurrying out into the street. Thanks for a super evening! Then I got into a taxi and burst into tears.

Sunday 5 February Still no word from Daniel. Cannot face thought of entire Sunday stretching ahead with everyone else in the world except me in bed with someone giggling and having sex. Worst of it is, only a week and a bit to go till impending Valentines Day humiliation. No way will I get any cards. Toy with idea of flirting energetically with anyone I think might be induced to send me one, but dismiss as immoral. Will just have to take total indignity on the chin.

Exactly, Dad joined in. Auntie Audrey looks like a kettle.’

teams time with non-essential messages.

Wednesday 15 February Unexpected surprise, Was just leaving flat for work when noticed there was a pink envelope on the table — obviously a late Valentine — which said, To the Dusky Beauty. For a moment I was excited, imagining it was for me and suddenly seeing myself as a dark, mysterious object of desire to men out in the street. Then I remembered bloody Vanessa and her slinky dark bob. Humph.

8st 13 (v.g. but purely through worry), alcohol units 2 (but the Lords Day), cigarettes 7, calories 2100.

9.15 p.m. Just called Mum and Dad three times in a row, letting it ring twenty times each time.

Today she asked me to meet her for lunch at the coffee place in Dickens and Jones and I asked her outright if she was seeing someone else.

My dad, somewhat bizarrely, insisted on giving my car a full service before I left, even though I assured him there was nothing wrong with it. I rather showed myself up by not remembering how to open the bonnet.

Midnight. Har har. Just called Sharon.

Its none of your business, I said hoity-toitily.

So she hasnt got a man! crowed Cosmo.

As I left the building Daniel popped out after me and asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow. Yessss!

I kept saying the words, Self-respect and Huh over and over till I was dizzy, trying to barrage out, But I lurrrve him. Smoking was v. bad. Apparently there is a Martin Amis character who is so crazily addicted that he starts wanting a cigarette even when hes smoking one. Thats me. It was good ringing up Sharon to boast about being Mrs Iron Knickers but when I rang Tom he saw straight through it and said, Oh, my poor darling, which made me go silent trying not to burst into self-pitying tears.

Mum. No. Couldnt we all talk this through together over lunch? I said, as if this were Sleepless in Seattle and lunch was going to end up with Mum and Dad holding hands and me winking cutely at the camera, wearing a luminous rucksack.

No. There is no one else, she said, staring into the distance with a look of melancholy bravery I swear she has copied from Princess Diana.

8st 13, alcohol units 5, cigarettes 23 (hardly surprising), calories 1647.

Work has become like going to a party in order to get off with someone and finding they havent turned up. Worried about own ambition, career prospects and moral seriousness as seem to reduce everything to level of scout disco. Eventually managed to worm out of Perpetua that Daniel has gone to New York. He will clearly by now have got off with thin American cool person called Winona who puts out, carries a gun and is everything I am not.

Wednesday 1 February 9 st, alcohol units 9, cigarettes 28 (but will soon give up for Lent so might as well smoke self into disgusted smoking frenzy), calories 3826.

Thursday 23 February 8st 13 (If only could stay under 9st. and not keep bobbing up and down like drowning corpse — drowning in fat), alcohol units 2, cigarettes 17 (pre-shag nerves — understandable), calories 775 (last-ditch attempt to get down to 8st 7 before tomorrow).

9.35 a.m. Still no sign of Daniel.

Then he hit the bonnet in an off-you-go sort of way but so hard that I had a feeling he might have broken his hand.

Tuesday 21 February V. tired. Dad has taken to ringing up several times in the night, just to talk.

Exactly . . . All the decent chaps have been snapped up, said Cosmo, slapping his fat stomach and smirking so that his jowls wobbled.