The level of torture unleashed in the Range Rover was unbelievable: Mum and Una crazed with indignation on my behalf - "Well, I think it's absolutely disgusting! With another woman on a Friday night when he said he was working! I've a good mind to ring Elaine and give her what for; Geoffrey drunkenly saying "Off they go! Weeh!" and Dad trying to quieten the whole thing down. The only silent people were me and Wellington, who took my hand and held it, very still and strong, without saying a word.
When we reached my flat he climbed out of the Range Rover to let me out, with the babble of "Well! I mean his first wife left him, didn't she?"
"Well exactly. No smoke without fire," in the background.
"In darkness the stone becomes the buffalo," Wellington said. "In sunlight all is as it is."
"Thanks," I said gratefully, then stumbled back to the flat wondering if I could turn Rebecca into a buffalo and set her on fire without creating enough smoke to alert Scotland Yard.
Saturday 1 March
10 p.m. My flat. Very black day. Jude, Shaz and I went emergency shopping and have all come back here to get ready for night on town, designed by the girls to keep my mind off things. By 8 p.m. things were already getting squiffy. "Mark Darcy's gay," Jude was declaring.
"Of course he's gay," snarled Shazzer, pouring out more Bloody Marys.
"Do you really think so?" I said, momentarily relieved by the depressing yet ego-comforting theory.
"Well, you did find a boy in his bed, didn't you?" said Shaz.
"Why else would he go off with someone freakishly tall like Rebecca, with no sense of girlfriend-hood, no tits and no bottom - i.e. a virtual man?" said Jude.
"Bridge," said Shaz, looking up at me drunkenly, "God, d'you know? When I look at you from this angle, you've got a real double chin."
"Thanks," I said wryly, pouring myself another glass of wine and pressing ANSWER PLAY again, at which Jude and Shazzer put their hands over their ears.
"Hi, Bridget. It's Mark. You don't seem to be returning my calls. I really think, whatever, I ... I'm really ... We - at least I feel - I owe it to you to be friends, so I hope you'll ... we'll. Oh God, anyway, give me a ring sometime soon. If you want to."
"Seems to have totally lost touch," grumbled Jude. "As if it's nothing to do with him when he's run off with Rebecca. You've really got to detach now. Look, are we going to this party or not?"
"Yurrr. Who's 'e bloody think he is'" said Sbaz. "Owe it to your Hggnah! You shoulssay, "Honey, I don't need anyone in my life becauseey owe it to me."'
At that moment the phone rang.
"Hi." It was Mark. Heart was inconveniently overtaken with great wave of love.
"Hi," I said eagerly, mouthing 'It's him', at the others. "Did you get your message? I mean my message?" said Mark.
Shazzer was jabbing my leg, frantically hissing, "Give it to him, go on.,
"Yes," I said, hoity-toitily. "But as I got it minutes after I saw you emerging from the taxi with Rebecca at 11 o'clock at night, I wasn't in the most amenable of humours."
Shaz stuck her fist in the air going "Yesss!!!" and Jude put her hand over Shazzer's mouth, gave me a thumbs up and reached for the Chardonnay.
There was silence on the end of the phone.
"Bridge, why do you always have to jump to conclusions?"
I paused, hand over mouthpiece. "He says I'm jumping to conclusions," I hissed, at which Shaz, furious, made a lunge for it.
"Jump to conclusions?" I said. "Rebecca's been making a play for you for a month, you chuck me f
or things I haven't done, then next thing I see you getting out of a taxi with Rebecca . . ."
"But it wasn't my fault, I can explain, and I had just called you."
"Yes - to say you owed it to me to be my friend."
"But . . ."