Page List


Font:  

Jude and Shazzer gaped at her, incredulous at the insane Smug Married suggestion. Everyone knows that Anjelica Huston never, ever rang Jack Nicholson, and that men cannot bear not to be the pursuer.

Whole scenario went from bad to worse, with Magda talking wide-eyedly about how when Jude met the right man it would be 'as easy as leaves falling off a tree'. At 10.30 Magda jumped to her feet and said, "Well, better go! Jeremy's back at 11!"

"What did you have to ask Magda for?" said Jude the second she was out of earshot.

"She was lonely," I said lamely.

"Yeah, right. Because she had to spend two hours on her own without Jeremy," said Shazzer.

"She can't have it both ways. She can't be in a Smug Married Family then moan because she isn't in a Singleton Urban Family," said Jude.

"Honestly, if that girl were thrown out into the cut and thrust of the modern dating world she'd be eaten alive," muttered Shaz.

"ALERT, ALERT, REBECCA ALERT," nuclear-sirened Jude.

We followed her gaze out of the window to where a Mitsubishi urban jeep was pulling up containing Rebecca with one hand on the wheel and the other holding the phone to her ear.

Rebecca eased her long legs out, rolling her eyes at someone who had the nerve to be walking past when she was on the phone, crossed the road without paying any attention to cars so they had to screech to a halt, did a little pirouette as if to say "Fuck off, everyone, this is my personal space," then walked smack into a tramp lady with a shopping trolley and completely ignored her.

She burst into the bar, swishing her long hair over her head from her face so it immediately swished back again in a swingy, shiny curtain. "OK, must run. Love your Byeee!" she was saying into her mobile. "Hi, hi," she said, kissing us all, sitting down and gesturing to the waiter for a glass. "How's it going? Bridge, how's it going with Mark? You must be really pleased to get a boyfriend at last."

"At last'. Grrr. First jellyfish of the evening. "Are you in heaven?" she cooed. "Is he taking you to the Law Society dinner on Friday?"

Mark hadn't said anything about any Law Society dinner.

"Oh sorry, have I put my big foot in it?" said Rebecca. "I'm sure he's just forgotten. Or maybe he thinks it isn't fair on you. But I think you'll cope fine. They'll probably think you're really sweet."

As Shazzer said afterwards, it wasn't so much a jellyfish as a Portuguese man-of-war. The fishermen were surrounding it in their boats trying to drag it back to the beach.

Rebecca flounced off to some do or other, so the three of us ended up lurching back to Jude's flat.

"'The Man Who Can't Commit will not want you in his own domain,'" Jude was reading out as Shaz fiddled with the Pride and Prejudice video to try to find the bit where Colin Firth dives into the lake. "'He likes to come to your tolver, like a knight errant with no responsibilities. And then he goes back to his castle. He can take and make whatever phone calls he likes without you knowing about it. He can keep his place - and himself - to himself.'"

"Too right," muttered Shaz. "OK, come on, he's going to dive in."

We all fell silent then, watching Colin Firth emerging from the lake dripping wet, in the see-through ,vhite shirt. Mmm. Mmmm.

"Anyway," I said defensively, "Mark isn't a Man Who Can't Commit - he's already been married."

"Well, then it might mean he thinks you're a "Just For Now Girl"," hiccuped Jude.

"Bastard!" slurred Shazzer. "Blurry bastards. Fwaw, look at that!"

Eventually staggered home, lunged expectantly towards answerphone then stopped in dismay. No red light. Mark hadn't called. Oh God, is 6 a.m. already and have got to get some more sleep.

8.30 a.m. Why hasn't he rung me? Why? Humph. Am assured, receptive, responsive woman of substance. My sense of self depends on myself and not on ... Wait a minute. Maybe phone is not working.

8.32 a.m. Dialling tone seems normal, but will ring from mobile to check. If not working might mean everything is fine.

8.35 a.m. Humph. Phone is working. I mean he definitely said he was going to call last ... Oh goody, telephone!

"Oh hello, m'dear. Didn't wake you up, did I?"

Was my dad. Instantly felt guilty for being horrible, selfish daughter, more interested in own four-week-old relationship than threat to parents" three-decade-long marriage from higher than five foot, non-twin Kenyan gigolos.

"What's happened?"

"It's fine." Dad laughed. "I brought the phone call up with her and - oops-a-daisy - here she comes."


Tags: Helen Fielding Bridget Jones Romance