Monday 20 November 8st 12 (v.g.), cigarettes 0 (v. bad to smoke when performing culinary miracles), alcohol units 3, calories 200 (effort of going to supermarket must have burnt off more calories than purchased, let alone ate).
1 p.m. Hurrah! Hurrah! Just as I was leaving had phone call, but could not hear anything but beeping sound at the other end. Then the phone rang again. It was Mark, from Portugal. Just incredibly kind and brilliant of him. Apparently he has been talking to the police all week in between being top barrister and flew out to Albufeira yesterday. The police over there have found Mum and Mark thinks she will get off because it will be pretty obvious she had no idea what Julio was up to. Theyve managed to track down some of the money, but havent found Julio yet. Mum is coming back tonight, but will have to go straight to a police station for questioning. He said not to worry, it will probably all be OK, but hes made arrangements for bail if it turns out to be necessary. Then we got cut off before I even had time to say thank you. Desperate to ring Tom to tell him fantastic news but remember no one is supposed to know about Mum and, unfortunately, last time I spoke to Tom about Mark Darcy I think I might have implied he was a creepy mummys boy.
Magda Jeremy MeMark Darcy Mark Darcy seemed very pleased when I rang him up.
Tom, whats happened to you? I cried, clumsily trying to embrace him and ending up kissing his ear. Jude burst into tears and Shazzer kicked the wall.
Oh, you know . . . I said. Actually, I usually use Marco Pierre White. Its amazing how simple it can be if one goes for a concentration of taste. He laughed and then said, Well, dont do anything too complicated. Remember everyones coming to see you, not to eat parfaits in sugar cages. Daniel would never have said anything nice like that. V. much looking forward to the dinner party.
Whats wrong with it? Chuh! Look at it.’
No. Presumably because they were unable to overcome some slight vestigial embarrassment about doing business with the greasy beperfumed wop who has cuckolded one of their oldest friends they omitted to mention the whole business to me. So what happened?
Where to, though? I said. Im not putting it in my Relationship or Offspring Corners.’
When finally got away from scene of mayhem, drove far too fast on way back to London, smoking fags all the way as act of mindless rebellion.
Oh, there you are, Daddy, said Mum, appearing round the corner wearing a policemans helmet. Is the car outside? Oof, dyou know — Im dying to get home and get the kettle on. Did Una remember to turn on the timer? Dad looked rumpled, startled and confused and I didnt feel any less so myself. Have you walked free? I said. Oh, dont be silly, darling. Walked free! I dont know! said Mum rolling her eyes at the senior detective and bustling me out of the door ahead of her. The way the detective was blushing and fussing around her I wouldnt have been in the least surprised if shed got herself off by giving him sexual favors in the interview room. So what happened? I said, when Dad had finished putting all her suitcases, hats, straw donkey ( Isnt it super?) and castanets in the trunk of the Sierra and had started the engine. I was determined she wasnt going to brazen this one out, sweep the whole thing under the carpet and start patronizing us again. All sorted out now, darling, just a silly misunderstanding. Has someone been smoking in this car? What happened, Mother? I said dangerously. What about everyones money and the time-share apartments? Wheres my two hundred quid? Durr! It was just some silly problem with the planning permission. They can be very corrupt, you know, the Portuguese authorities. Its all bribery and baksheesh like Winnie Mandela. So Julios just paid all the deposits back. We had a super holiday, actually! The weather was very mixed, but . . . ‘
I know what you mean, said Jude, portentously. I can feel it, too. Somethings definitely wrong. 7 p.m. Extraordinary. After spoke to Jude could not face shopping or similar lighthearted things.
Whatever you have in that area of your house will govern how that area of your life performs. For example, if you keep finding you have no money it could be due to the presence of a wastepaper basket in your Wealth Comer. V. excited by new theory as could explain a lot. Resolve to buy Cosmo at earliest opportunity.
Oh, dont be a silly-willy, darling. Of course I told you. You must learn to listen. Anyway, do take care, wont you?’
What?’
Well see, darling. Maybe tomorrow when Ive cleaned out the vegetable basket. I left two pounds of King Edwards in there and I bet theyve sprouted. Nobodys touched the plants, apparently, the entire time Ive been away, and I bet you anything Unas left the heating on. It was only when Dad came over and curtly told her the house was about to be repossessed, vegetable basket included, that she shut up and huffily allowed herself to be put in the back of the car next to the policeman.
Well, if thats the way you look at things. I mean youre probably going to have one less present to buy anyway . . . said Jude accusingly.
What did they say? I couldnt help feeling secretly annoyed that Jude had rung the police without clearing it with me first. I am Toms best friend, not Jude. They didnt seem very impressed. They said to call them if we still couldnt find him by Monday. You can see their point. It does seem a bit alarmist to report that a twenty-nine-year-old single man is not in on Saturday morning and has failed to turn up for a lunch party he said he wouldnt be corning to anyway.’
Should you ring first? whispered Sharon as I lifted the key to the lock.
In the end I decided to put the wastepaper basket in my Knowledge Corner and went out to the greengrocer to get some plants with round leaves to put in the Family and Helpful Friends Corners (spiky-leaved plants, particularly cacti, are counterproductive). Was just getting plant pot out of the cupboard under sink when heard a jangling sound. I suddenly hit myself hard on the forehead.
Of course you dont fancy him, Bridge, the thought never crossed my mind for a second, said Jude. She said the answer was obvious: I should have a dinner party and invite him.
Peeled?’
Fireworks Burns Kids. Im thinking maiming, Im thinking happy family celebrations turned into nightmares. Im thinking twenty years from now. What about that kid who had his penis burnt off by firecrackers in his pockets back in the sixties? Where is he now? Bridget, find me the Fireworks Kid with no Penis. Find me the Sixties Guy Fawkes Bobbit.’
Ugh. I was just grumpily making my forty-eighth phone call to find out if there was a burnt-off-penis victims support group when my phone rang. Hello, darling, its Mummy here. She sounded unusually high-pitched and hysterical.
Eighty, I said, confidently.
He was wearing a polystyrene sphere painted like map of the globe but with the polar ice caps melt九九藏书网ing and a large burn mark on Brazil. In one hand he was holding a piece of tropical hardwood and a Lynx aerosol, and in the other an indeterminate furry item which he claimed was a dead ocelot. Do you think I should have a melanoma? he asked.
Oh, darling, just one more thing.’
How many calories are you supposed to eat if youre on a diet? he said. About a thousand. Well, I usually aim for a thousand and come in at about fifteen hundred, I said, realizing as I said it that the last bit wasnt strictly true.
Nobody loves me, he said. I told him to ring my answerphone, which held twenty-two frantic messages from his friends, all distraught because he had disappeared for twenty-four hours, which put paid to all our fears about dying alone and being eaten by an Alsatian. Or not being found for three months . . . and bursting all over the carpet, said Tom. Anyway, we told him, how could one moody geek with a stupid name make him think nobody loves him?
Wednesday 1 November 8st 13lb 8oz (yesss! yesss!), alcohol units 2 (v.g.), cigarettes 4 (but could not smoke at Toms in case set Alternative Miss World costume alight), calories 1848 (g.), Smoothies 12 (excellent progress).
9:30 a.m. Just opened pan. Hoped-for 2-gallon stock taste-explosion has turned into burnt chicken carcasses coated in jelly. Orange confit looks fantastic, though, just like in picture only darker. Must go to work. Am going to leave by four, then will think of answer to soup crisis. 5 p.m. Oh God. Entire day has turned into nightmare. Richard Finch gave me a real blowing-up at the morning meeting in front of everyone. Bridget, put that recipe book away for Gods sake.
For some reason Ive been so busy I forgot to order my travelers checks from the bank.’
I — wanted you to be with someone when . . . Im sorry, Bridget. Im afraid theres been some rather bad news.’
It was. Apparently he had waited till dead of night to go out and forage for food under cover of darkness. In spite of our high spirits that he was alive Tom was still very unhappy about Jerome.
Black or green?’
Oh, dont worry, you can get them at the airport.’
Large or small?’
The time-share apartments never existed. Not a penny of your mothers and my savings or pension fund remains. I also was unwise enough to leave the house in her name, and she has remortgaged it. We are ruined, destitute and homeless, Bridget, and your mother is to be branded a common criminal. After that he broke down. Una came to the phone, saying that she was going to give Dad some Ovaltine. I told her Id be there in two hours but she said not to drive till Id got over the shock, there was nothing to be done, and to leave it till the morning. Replacing the receiver, I slumped against the wall cursing myself feebly for leaving my cigarettes in the living room. Immediately though, Jude appeared with a glass of Grand Marnier.
Saturday 25 November 9st, alcohol units 2 (sherry, ugh), cigarettes 3 (smoked out of Alconburys window), calories, 4567 (entirely custard creams and salmon spread sandwiches), 1471 calls to see if Mark Darcy has rung 9 (g.). Thank God. Dad has had a phone call from Mum. Apparently, she said not to worry, she was safe and everything was going to be all right, then hung up immediately. The police were at Una and
Monday 27 November 9st 1., alcohol units 0, cigarettes 50 (yesss! yesss!), 1471 calls to see Mark Darcy has rung 12, hours of sleep 0. 9 a.m. Just having last fag before going to work. Completely shattered. Dad and I were made to wait on a bench in the police Station for two hours last night. Eventually we heard a voice approaching along the corridor. Yes, thats right its mee! Suddenly Single every morning! Of course you can. Have you got a pen? On here? Who shall I put it to? Oh, you naughty man. Do you know Ive been dying to try one of those on . . . ‘
Got a hot tip, I said, tapping my nose, then made a dash for it. I was waiting for my money to come, freshly baked and piping hot, out of the cash machine, wondering how my mother was going to manage for two weeks in Portugal on two hundred pounds, when I spotted her scurrying towards me, wearing sunglasses, even though it was pissing with rain, and looking shiftily from side to side. Oh, there you are, darling. You are sweet. Thank you very much. Must dash, going to miss the plane. Byee! she said, grabbing the banknotes from my hand. Whats going on? I said. What are you doing outside here when its not on your way to the airport? How are you going to manage without your bankers card? Why cant Julio lend you the money? Why? What are you up to? What? For a second she looked frightened, as if she was going to cry, then, her eyes fixed on the middle distance, she adopted her wounded Princess Diana look.
8:30 p.m. All going marvelously. Guests are all in living room. Mark Darcy is being v. nice and brought champagne and a box of Belgian chocolates. Have not done main course yet apart from fondant potatoes but sure will be v. quick. Anyway, soup is first. 8:35 p.m. Oh my God. Just took lid off casserole to remove carcasses. Soup is bright blue. 9 p.m. Love the lovely friends. Were more than sporting about the blue soup, Mark Darcy and Tom even making lengthy argument for less color prejudice in the world of food. Why, after all, as Mark said — just because one cannot readily think of a blue vegetable — should one object to blue soup? Fish fingers, after all, are not naturally orange. (Truth is, after all the effort, soup just tasted like big bowl of boiled cream which Vile Richard rather unkindly pointed out. At which point Mark Darcy asked him what he did for a living, which was v. amusing because Vile Richard was sacked last week for fiddling his expenses.) Never mind, anyway. Main course will be v.
Carefully, using the drawing in Cosmo, I mapped the ba-gua of the flat. Had a flash of horrified realization. There was a wastepaper basket in my Helpful Friends Corner. No wonder bloody Tom had disappeared. Quickly rang Jude to report same. Jude said to move the wastepaper basket.
Aaargh, have suddenly remembered MP who died in a plastic bag with tubes around neck and chocolate orange in mouth or something. Wonder if Tom has been doing weird sexual practices without telling us? 5 p.m. Just called Jude again.
How do you know all this?’
10 a.m. Back in flat, completely exhausted after no sleep. On top of everything else, have to go to work and get told off for being late. Dad seemed to be rallying a little when I left: alternating between moments of wild cheerfulness that Julio proved to be a bounder so Mum might come back and start a new life with him and deep depression that the new life in question will be one of prison-visiting using public transport. Mark Darcy went back to London in small hours. I left a message on his answerphone saying thank you for helping and everything, but he has not rung me back. Cannot blame him. Bet Natasha and similar would not feed him blu九_九_藏_书_网e soup and turn out to be the daughter of criminal. Una and Geoffrey said not to worry about Dad as Brian and Mavis are going to stay and help look after him. Find myself wondering why it is always Una and Geoffrey not Geothey and Una’
Deciding I wasnt going to get the best out of Tom over Mark Darcy just at the moment, I excused myself before it got too late, promising to think hard about Swim and Daywear. When I got back I called Jude but she started telling me about a marvelous new oriental idea in this months Cosmopolitan called Feng Shui, which helps you get everything you want in life. All you have to do, apparently, is clean out all the cupboards in your flat to unblock yourself, then divide the flat up into nine sections (which is called mapping the ba-gua), each of which represents a different area of your life: career, family, relationships, wealth, or offspring, for example.
What letter comes before J? Quick. P. L, I mean. Tom says I am sick but I happen to know for a fact that I am normal and no different from everyone else, i.e., Sharon and Jude. Frankly, I am quite worried about Tom. I think taking part in a beauty contest has started to make him crack under the pressures we women have long been subjected to and he is becoming insecure, appearance obsessed and borderline anorexic. Evening climaxed with Tom cheering himself up letting off rockets from the roof terrace into the garden of the people below who Tom says are homophobic.
would decide it was me who had murdered Tom. Suddenly it stopped being a game. Maybe something terrible and tragic actually had happened.
Tuesday 21 November 8st 11 (nerves eat fat), alcohol units 9 (v. bad indeed), cigarettes 37 (v.v. bad), calories 3479 (and all disgusting).
Oh my God. So thats why shes gone off to Portugal with my two hundred quid.’
Small.’
Go? Go where?’
I havent got a hope in hell, he was saying, looking in the mirror, then flouncing to the window.
Your mother and Julio are wanted by the police. 2 a.m. Northamptonshire in single bed in the Alconburys spare room. Ugh. Had to sit down and get my breath back while Dad said, Bridget? Bridget? Bridget? over and over again in manner of a parrot. Whats happened? I managed to get out eventually. Im afraid they — possibly, and I pray, without your mothers knowledge — have defrauded a large number of people, including myself and some of our very closest friends, out of a great deal of money. We dont know the scale of the fraud at the moment, but Im afraid, from what the police are saying, its possible that your mother may have to go to prison for a considerable period of time.’
Bridget, where the fuck are you off to? yelled Richard as I tried to sneak out. You found the Banger Bobbit Boy yet?’
chargrilled tuna would have been like. At least orange confit will be good. Looks fantastic. Tom said not to bother with Grand Marnier Crème Anglaise but merely drink Grand Marnier. 10 p.m. V. sad. Looked expectantly round table as everyone took first mouthful of confit. There was an embarrassed silence. Whats this, hon? said Tom eventually. Is it marmalade? Horror-struck, took mouthful myself. It was, as he said, marmalade. Realize after all effort and expense have served my guests: Blue soup Omelette Marmalade Am disastrous failure. Michelin-star cookery? Kwik-fit, more like. Did not think things could get any worse after the marmalade. But no sooner was the horrible meal cleared away than the phone went. Fortunately I took it in the bedroom. It was Dad. Are you on your own? he said. No. Everyones round here, Jude and everyone. Why?’
Geoffreys tapping the phone line as in Thelma and Louise and said she was definitely calling from Portugal but they didnt manage to get where. So much wish Mark Darcy would ring. Was obviously completely put off by culinary disasters and criminal element in family, but too polite to show it at time. Paddling-pool bonding evidently pales into insignificance alongside theft of parents savings by naughty Bridgets nasty mummy. Am going to see Dad this afternoon, in manner of tragic spinster spurned by all men instead of in manner to which have been accustomed: in chauffeur-driven car with top barrister.
Banana?’
I thought about it. I just do, as one knows ones alphabet or times tables.’
7 p.m. Just returned from hideous middle-class Singleton guilt experience at supermarket, standing at checkout next to functional adults with children buying beans, fish fingers, alphabetti spaghetti, etc., when had the following in my trolley: 20 heads of garlic tin of goose fat bottle of Grand Marnier 8 tuna steaks 36 oranges 4 pints of double cream 4 vanilla beans at ￡1.39 each. Have to start preparations tonight as working tomorrow. 8 p.m. Ugh, do not feel like cooking. Especially dealing with grotesque bag of chicken carcasses: completely disgusting. 10 p.m. Have got chicken carcasses in pan now. Trouble is, Marco says am supposed to tie flavor-enhancing leek and celery together with string but only string have got is blue. Oh well, expect it will be OK. 11 p.m. God, stock took bloody ages to do but worth it as will end up with over 2 gallons, frozen in ice-cube form and only cost ￡l.70. Mmm, confit of oranges will be delicious also. Now all have got to do is finely slice thirty-six oranges and grate zest. Shouldnt take too long. 1 a.m. Too tired to stay awake now but stock is supposed to cook for another two hours and oranges need another hour in oven. I know. Will leave the stock on v. low heat overnight, also oranges on lowest oven setting, so will become v. tender in manner of a stew.
Ill do it, said Jude. She looked at us quickly, then pressed the buzzer. We stood in silence. Nothing. She pressed again. I was just about to slip the key in the lock when a voice on the intercom said, Hello?’
Would you like to go to him? Will you allow me to take you? It was pretty damn sexy, I can tell you. Jude appeared with coffee. Mark decided the best thing would be if he got his driver to take him and me up to Grafton Underwood and, for a fleeting second, I experienced the totally novel sensation of being grateful to my mother. It was all very dramatic when we got to Una and Geoffreys, with Enderbys and Alconburys all over the shop, everyone in tears and Mark Darcy striding around making phone calls. Found myself feeling guilty, since part of self — despite horror — was hugely enjoying the fact of normal business being suspended, everything different from usual and everyone allowed to throw entire glasses of sherry and salmon-paste sandwiches down their throats in manner of Christmas.
Jude says not to tell Sharon as, naturally, she thinks Feng Shui is bollocks. Managed, eventually, to bring conversation round to Mark Darcy.
Oooh. Well, actually, as luck would have it Im ever so close, so if you just pop out to the NatWest opposite Ill meet you there in five minutes, she gabbled. Super, darling. Byee!’
They were www.99lib.netToms spare keys from when he went to Ibiza. For a moment I thought about going round there without Jude. I mean, she rang the police without telling me, didnt she? But in the end it seemed too mean, so I rang her and we decided wed get Shazzer to come as well, because shed raised the alert in the first place. As we turned into Toms street, though, I came out of my fantasy about how dignified, tragic and articulate I would be when interviewed by the newspapers, along with a parallel paranoid fear that the police
Thursday 9 November 8st 13 (better without Smoothies), alcohol units 5 (better than having huge stomach full of puréed fruit), cigarettes 12, calories 1456 (excellent).
At this a loud cheer went up from us all and Geoffrey launched into For Hes a Jolly Good Fellow. I waited for Una to make some remark about me but none was forthcoming. Typical. The minute I decide I like Mark Darcy, everyone immediately stops trying to fix me up with him. Is that too milky for you, Cohn? said Una, passing Dad a mug of tea decorated with apricot floral frieze. I dont know . . . I dont understand why . . . I dont know what to think, Dad said worriedly. Look, theres absolutely no need to worry, said Una, with an unusual air of calmness and control, which suddenly made me see her as the mummy Id never really had. Its because Ive put a bit too much milk in. Ill just tip a bit out and top it up with hot water.’
Sunday 26 November 9st 1, alcohol Units 0, cigarettes 1/2 (fat chance of any more), calories God knows, minutes spent wanting to kill mother 188 (conservative estimate).
Such a nuisance. I was wondering . . . You couldnt possibly lend me some cash? I mean not much, just a couple of hundred quid or something so I can get some travelers checks.’
You didnt tell me.’
What happened? I said again, tears beginning to plop down my cheeks. Er, well . . . said Tom, extracting himself awkwardly from my embrace, actually I, er, I had a nose job. Turned out Tom had secretly had the operation on Wednesday but was too embarrassed to tell us because wed all been so dismissive about his minuscule nasal bump. He was supposed to have been looked after by Jerome, henceforth to be known as Creepy Jerome (it was going to be heartless Jerome but we all agreed that sounded too interesting). When, however, Creepy Jerome saw him after the operation he was so repulsed he said he was going away for a few days, buggered off and hasnt been seen or heard of since. Poor Tom was so depressed and traumatized and so weird from the anaesthetic that he just unplugged the phone, hid under the blankets and slept.
Dont worry, Tom, she growled. Well find the bastards who did this.’
Hello, darling, just called to say bye before I go, and hope everything goes well.’
Nine.’
None of us spoke or looked at each other as we walked up the front steps.
Sixty-four. No, fifty-six. Seventy-two.’
I dont want anyone except Bridget, said Tom petulantly. I beamed beatifically at the others.
What about my house? said Dad. And the savings? I dont know what youre talking about, Daddy. Theres nothing wrong with the house.’
Hmm, I dont know, what with Christmas coming up and everything, I said, feeling really mean even as I said it.
What? What?
Nightmare day. Having first expected Mum back last night, then this morning, then this afternoon and having almost set off to Gatwick a total of three times, it turned out she was arriving this evening at Luton, under police escort. Dad and I were preparing ourselves to comfort a very different person from the one we had last been told off by, naively assuming that Mum would be chastened by what she had gone through Let go of me, you silly billy, a voice rang out through the arrival lounge. Now were on British soil Im certain to be recognized and I dont want everyone seeing me being manhandled by a policeman. Ooh, dyou know? I think Ive left my sun hat on the airplane under the seat. The two policemen rolled their eyes as Mum, dressed in a sixties-style black-and-white checked coat (presumably carefully planned to coordinate with the policemen), head scarf and dark glasses, zoomed back towards the baggage hall with the officers of the law wearily tagging after her.
Two Bloody Marys later he was laughing at Jeromes obsessive use of the tern self-aware, and his skintight calf-length Calvin Klein underpants. Meanwhile, Simon, Michael, Rebecca, Magda, Jeremy and a boy claiming to be called Elsie had all rung to see how he was. I know were all psychotic, single and completely dysfunctional and its all done over the phone, Tom slurred sentimentally, but its a bit like a family, isnt it? I knew the Feng Shui would work. Now-its task completed — I am going to quickly move the round-leaved plant to my Relationship Corner. Wish there was a Cookery Corner too. Only nine days to go.
Was exactly the same feeling as when Granny turned schizophrenic and took all her clothes off, ran off into Penny Husbands-Bosworths orchard and had to be rounded up by the police.
Jude, I said, hurt, did you say, pretend?’
Friday 3 November 9st2 (humph), alcohol units 2, cigarettes 8, Smoothies 13, calories 5245. 11 a.m. V. excited about dinner party. Have bought marvelous new recipe book by Marco Pierre White. At last understand the simple difference between home cooking and restaurant food. As Marco says, it is all to do with concentration of taste. The secret of sauces, of course, apart from taste concentration, lies in real stock. One must boil up large pans of fish bones, chicken carcasses, etc., then freeze them in form of ice-stockcubes. Then cooking to Michelin star standard becomes as easy as making shepherds pie: easier, in fact, as do not need to peel potatoes, merely confit them in goose fat. Cannot believe have not realized this before. This will be the menu: Velouté of Celery (v. simple and cheap when have made stock). Char-grilled Tuna on Velouté of Cherry Tomatoes Coulis with Confit of Garlic and Fondant Potatoes. Confit of Oranges. Grand Marnier Creme Anglaise. Will be marvelous. Will become known as brilliant but apparently effortless cook. People will flock to my dinner parties, enthusing, Its really great going to Bridgets for dinner, one gets Michelin star-style food in a bohemian setting. Mark Darcy will be v. impressed and will realize I am not common or incompetent.
Box of Milk Tray?’
Where is Julio? I said, suspiciously.
Tom! I bellowed joyfully. Let us in.’
She may well be further afield by now. I saw the future unfolding before me like a horrible nightmare: Richard Finch dubbing me Good Afternoon!s Suddenly Singles Jailbirds Daughter, and forcing me to do a live interview down the line from the Holloway visitors room before being Suddenly Sacked on air.
Beauty. Originality. Artistry. Its all ridiculously unclear.’
Silence. Come on, you silly sod. Let us in. There was a pause, then the buzzer went. Bzzz.’
Friday 24 November 8st 13, alcohol units 4 (but drunk in police presenhｔtp://wｗｗ.99liｂ•nｅtce so clearly OK), cigarettes 0, calories 1760, 1471 calls to see if Mark Darcy has rung 11. 10:30 p.m. Everything is going from bad to worse. Had thought only silver lining in cloud of mothers criminality was that it might bring me and Mark Darcy closer together but have not heard a peep from him since he left the Alconburys. Have just been interviewed in my flat by police officers. Started behaving like people who are interviewed on the television after plane crashes in their front gardens, talking in formulaic phrases borrowed from news broadcasts, courtroom dramas or similar. Found myself describing my mother as being Caucasian and of medium build. Policemen were incredibly charming and reassuring, though. They stayed quite late, in fact, and one of the detectives said hed pop round again when he was passing by and let me know how everything was going. He was really friendly, actually.
Wednesday 22 November 8st 10 (hurrah!), alcohol units 3, cigarettes 27 (completely understandable when Mum is common criminal), calories 5671 (oh dear, seem to have regained appetite), Instants 7 (unselfish act to try to win back everyones money, though maybe would not give them all of it, come to think of it), total winnings ,10, total profit ,3 (got to start somewhere).
Hi, Mum.’
Its perfect, she said. Its not like asking him for a date, so it takes away all the pressure and you can show off like mad and get all your friends to pretend to think youre marvelous.’
Is it a beauty contest or a fancy dress contest?’
9:30 p.m. Thank God. Jude and Mark Darcy came in kitchen and helped me make big omelette and mashed up half-done fondant potatoes and fried them in the frying pan in manner of hash browns, and put the recipe book on the table so we could all look at the pictures of what
Tom Pretentious Jerome (unless get v. lucky and it is off between him and Tom by Tuesday)
What did they do?’
Sunday 5 November 9st (disaster), cigarettes 32, alcohol units 6 (shop has run out of Smoothies---careless bastards), calories 2266, lottery tickets 4. 7 p.m. Humph. Bonfire night and not invited to any bonfires. Rockets going off tauntingly left right and center. Going round to Toms. 11 p.m. Bloody good evening at Toms, who was trying to deal with the fact that the Alternative Miss World title had gone to Joan of Bloody Arc.
Whats wrong with it?’
Dont be such a prima bloody donna, said Shazzer.
I already rang them, said Jude.
Id rather you didnt come up, hon, to be honest.’
Seventy-five.’
Olive?’
Whos us? he said suspiciously.
Jude said hang on, shed go have a look at Cosmo.
What are you going to cook? he said. Are you good at cooking?’
V. excited about the dinner party. Fixed for a week on Tuesday. This is the guest list: Jude Vile Richard Shazzer
A thousand? said Tom, incredulously. But I thought you needed two thousand just to survive. I looked at him nonplussed. I realized that I have spent so many years being on a diet that the idea that you might actually need calories to survive has been completely wiped out of my conscious- ness. Have reached point where believe nutritional ideal is to eat nothing at all and that the only reason people eat is because they are so greedy they cannot stop themselves from breaking out and ruining their diets. How many calories in a boiled egg? said Tom.
Do you have to be a pouff to enter? I asked, fiddling with a bit of polystyrene. No. Anyone can enter: women, animals, anything. Thats exactly the problem, he said, flouncing back to the mirror. Sometimes I think Id stand more chance trying to win with a really confident dog. Eventually we agreed that though the global warming theme in itself was faultless, the polystyrene sphere was not, perhaps, the most flattering shape for evening wear. In fact in the end we found we were thinking more toward a fluid sheath of shot-silk-effect Yves Klein blue, floating over smoke and earth shades to symbolize the melting of the polar ice caps.
Yes.’
Im in the middle of work, Mum. Cant Julio lend you some money? She went all huffy. I cant believe youre being so mean, darling. After all Ive done for you. I gave you the gift of life and you cant even loan your mother a few pounds for some travelers’
But the thing is, darling, Im just on my way to the airport now, and Ive forgotten my bankers card. I blinked at the phone.
Apparently Julio, using your mother as — as it were — front man, has relieved Una and Geoffrey, Nigel and Elizabeth and Malcolm and Elaine (oh my God, Mark Darcys parents) of quite considerable sums of money-many, many thousands of pounds, as down payments on time-share apartments. Didnt you know?’
How about Wealth? she said, when she came back.
The thing that makes me really angry is that they say it isnt a beauty contest but really it is. I mean, Im sure if it wasnt for this nose . . . said Tom, staring at himself furiously in the mirror.
checks. But how am I going to get it to you? Ill have to go out to the cash machine and put it on a motorbike. Then it will be stolen and itll all be ridiculous. Where are you?’
Shed spoken to Rebecca, who thought Tom was supposed to be going to Michaels for lunch. I called Michael who said Tom had left a weird message talking in an odd distorted voice saying he wasnt going to be able to come and hadnt given a reason. 3 p.m. Starting to feel really panicky, at the same time enjoying sense of being at center of drama.
What? What?’
Saturday 11 November 8st 12, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 35 (crisis), calories 456 (off food). Tom has disappeared. First began to fear for him this morning when Sharon rang saying wouldnt swear on her mothers life but thought shed seen him from the window of a taxi on Thursday night wandering along Ladbroke Grove with his hand over his mouth and, she thought, a black eye. By the time shed got the taxi to go back hed disappeared. Shed left two messages for him yesterday asking if he was OK but had had no reply. I suddenly realized, as she spoke, that I had left a message for Tom myself on Wednesday asking if he was around at the weekend and he hadnt replied, which is not like him at all. Frantic phoning ensued. Toms phone just rang and rang, so I called Jude who said she hadnt heard from him either. I tried Toms Pretentious Jerome: nothing. Jude said shed ring Simon, who lives in next street to Tom, and get him to go round. She called back twenty minutes later saying Simon had rung Toms bell for ages and hammered on the door but no reply. Then Sharon rang again.
Ten thousand eight hundred and ninety-six.’
Just went round to Toms for top-level summit to discuss the Mark Darcy scenario. Found Tom, however, in a complete lather about the forthcoming Alternative Miss World contest. Having decided ages ago to go as Miss Global Warming, he was having a crisis of confidence.
Somethings wrong, though, I just know, I said in a mysterious, loaded voice, realizing for the first time what an intensely instinctive and intuitive９9lｉｂ•ｎet person I am.
Are you ready for this? came his voice as we reached the top floor and he opened the door. All three of us cried out. Toms whole face was distorted, hideous yellow and black, and encased in plaster.
Yes.’
The way she said it reminded me of the way winos ask for money for a cup of tea.
A hundred and twenty-one.’
What happened? she said. I told her the whole story, pouring the Grand Marnier straight down my throat as I did. Jude didnt say a word but immediately went and fetched Mark Darcy. I blame myself, he said, running his hands through his hair. I should have made myself more clear at the Tarts and Vicars party. I knew there was something dodgy about Julio. What do you mean? I heard him talking on his portable phone by the herbaceous border. He didnt know he was being overheard. If Id had any idea that my parents were involved Id . . . He shook his head. Now that I think about it, I do remember my mother mentioning something, but I got so upset at the mere mention of the words timeshare that I must have terrorized her into shutting up. Wheres your mother now? I dont know. Portugal? Rio de Janeiro? Having her hair done? He started to pace around the room firing questions like a top barrister. Whats being done to find her? What are the sums involved? How did the matter come to light? What is the polices involvement? Who knows about it? Where is your father now?’
Me, Jude and Shazzer.’
Do you think we should call the police and get them to break in? I said.
Whos that? I said tremulously. Whod you think it is, you daft cow.’
Chocolate biscuit?’
Thats just it, I dont know, no one knows, said Tom, throwing down his headdress — a miniature tree which he was intending to set alight during the contest. Its both. Its everything.
Was it you I saw in Ladbroke Grove on Thursday night, then? said Shazzer.
Ill be fine, darling. She gave her special brave smile. Take care, she said in a faltering voice, hugged me quickly then was off, waving the traffic to a standstill and tripping across the road. 7 p.m. Just got home. Right. Calm, calm. Inner poise. Soup will be absolutely fine. Will simply cook and purée vegetables as instructed and then-to give concentration of flavor-rinse blue jelly off chicken carcases and boil them up with cream in the soup.
OK. Nine eights, said Tom.
Am practically Toms best friend so everyone is ringing me and am adopting calm yet deeply concerned air about whole thing. Suddenly occurs to me that maybe hes Just met someone new and is enjoying honeymoon-style shag hideaway for a few days. Maybe it wasnt him Sharon saw, or black eye is just product of lively enthusiastic young sex or postmodern- style ironic retrospective Rocky Horror Show makeup. Must make more phone calls to test new theory. 3:30 p.m. General opinion quashes new theory, since it is widely agreed to be impossible for Tom to meet new man, let alone start affair, without ringing everyone up to show off. Cannot argue
with that. Wild thoughts ranging through head. No denying that Tom has been disturbed lately.
It turned Out there was a very, very tiny bump where someone had shoved a glass in his face when he was seventeen. Do you see what I mean? My feeling was, as I explained, that the bump in itself couldnt be blamed for Joan of Arc snatching the title from directly beneath it, as it were, unless the judges were using a Hubble telescope, but then Tom started saying he was too fat as well and was going on a diet.
Black.’
Unfortunately for Mum, however, when we got back to The Gables all the locks had been changed, so we had to go back to Una and Geoffreys.
and yet Malcolm and Elaine and Brian and Mavis. And yet, on the other hand, Nigel and Audrey Coles. Just as one would never, never say Geoffrey and Una so, conversely, one would never say Elaine and Malcolm. Why? Why? Find self, in spite of self; trying out own name imagining Sharon or Jude in years to come, boring their daughters rigid by going You know Bridget and Mark, darling, who live in the big house in Holland Park and go on lots of holidays to the Caribbean. Thats it. It would be Bridget and Mark. Bridget and Mark Darcy. The Darcys. Not Mark and Bridget Darcy. Heaven forbid. All wrong. Then suddenly feel terrible for thinking about Mark Darcy in these terms, like Maria with Captain Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, and that I must run away and go to see Mother Superior, who will sing Climb Every Mountain to me.
Thought this might be the perfect time to do the Feng Shui so went out and bought Cosmopolitan.
tasty. Right, will start on velouté of cherry tomatoes. 9:15 p.m. Oh dear. Think there must have been something in the blender, e.g. washing-up liquid, as cherry tomato purée seems to be foaming and three times original volume. Also fondant potatoes were meant to be ready ten minutes ago and are hard as rock. Maybe should put in microwave. Aargh aargh. Just looked in fudge and tuna is not there. What has become of tuna?
Start to wonder whether am really good friend. We are all so selfish and busy in London. Would it be possible for one of my friends to be so unhappy that they . . . ooh, thats where I put this months Marie Claire: on top of fridge! As flicked through Marie Claire started fantasizing about Toms funeral and what I would wear.
Oh, hes stayed behind in Portugal to sort out all this planning permission palaver.’
My nose.’
Oh, bloody hell, said Sharon, pushing past me. Tom, you silly bloody queen, youve only had half London up in arms ringing the police, combing the metropolis for you because no one knows where you are. Bloody well let us in.’
What?’
Oof, do you know, Una, Im so exhausted, I think Im going to have to go straight to bed, said Mum after one look at the resentful faces, wilting cold collation and tired beetroot slices. The phone rang for Dad. That was Mark Darcy, said Dad when he came back. My heart leaped into my mouth as I tried to control my features. Hes in Albufeira. Apparently some sort of deals been done with . . . with the filthy wop . . . and theyve recovered some of the money. I think The Gables may be saved . . . ‘
Forty-five minutes later they were back. One of the policemen was carrying the sun hat. There was nearly a stand-up fight when they tried to get her into the police car. Dad was sitting in the front of his Sierra in tears and I was trying to explain to her that she had to go to the station to see whether she was going to be charged with anything, but she just kept going, Oh, dont be silly, darling. Come here. What have you got on your face? Havent you got a tissue? Mum, I remonstrated as she took a handkerchief out of her pocket and spat on it. You might be charged with a criminal offense, I protested as she started to dab at my face. I think you should go quietly to the station with the policemen.
Oh. Ahahahaha. I told you, Julio and I are popping over to Portugal for a couple of weeks, just to see the family and so on, get a bit of a suntan before Christmas.’