Page 109 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'Hello, Bridget,' he said. I nearly opened my mouth and let all the sate sticks

fall right out. It was Mark Darcy. But without the Arnold Palmer-style diamond-
patterned sweater.

'Hello,' I said through my mouthful, trying not to panic. Then, remembering
the article, turned towards Perpetua.

'Mark. Perpetua is . . . I began and then paused, frozen. What to say? Perpetua

is very fat and spends her whole time bossing me around? Mark is very rich and
has a cruel-raced ex-wife.

'Yes?' said Mark.

' . . . is my boss and is buying a flat in Fulham, and Mark is,' I said, turning
desperately to Perpetua, 'a top human-rights lawyer.'

'Oh, hello, Mark. I know of you, of course,' gushed Perpetua as if she were
Prunella Scales in Fawlty Towers and he were the Duke of Edinburgh.

'Mark, hi!' said Arabella, opening her eyes very wide and blinking in a way
she presumably thought was very attractive. 'Haven't seen you for yonks. How
was the Big Apple?'

'We were just talking about hierarchies of culture,' boomed Perpetua. 'Bridget
is one of these people who thinks the moment when the screen goes back on
Blind Date is on a par with Othello's 'hurl my soul from heaven' soliloquy,' she
said, hooting with laughter.

'Ah. Then Bridget is clearly a top post-modernist,' said Mark Darcy. 'This is
Natasha,' he said, gesturing towards a tall, thin, glamorous girl beside him.
'Natasha is a top family-law barrister.'

I had the feeling he was taking the piss out of me. Bloody cheek.

'I must say,' said Natasha, with a knowing smile, 'I always feel with the