Page 175 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

at the front of the Alconburys' and, hoping I looked OK in the bunny girl outfit,

walked round the side to the garden where I could hear voices raised in
merriment. As I started to cross the lawn they all went quiet, and I realized to my
horror that instead of Tarts and Vicars, the ladies were in Country Casuals-style
calf-length floral two-pieces and the men were in slacks and V-necked sweaters.
I stood there, frozen, like, well, a rabbit. Then while everyone stared, Una
Alconbury came flapping across the lawn in pleated fuchsia holding out a plastic
tumbler full of bits of apple and leaves.

'Bridget!! Super to see you. Have a Pimms.' she said.

'I thought it was supposed to be a Tarts and Vicars party,' I hissed.

'Oh dear, didn't Geoff call you?' she said. I couldn't believe this. I mean, did
she think I dressed as a bunny girl normally or something? 'Geoff,' she said.
'Didn't you telephone Bridget? We're all looking forward to meeting your new
boyfriend,' she sajd, looking around. 'Where is he?'

'He had to work,' I muttered.

'How's-my-little-Bridget?' said Uncle Geoffrey, lurching over, pissed.

'Geoffrey,' said Una coldly.

'Yup, Yup. All present and correct, orders obeyed, Lieutenant,' he said,
saluting, then collapsing on to her shoulder giggling. 'But it was one of those
ruddy answerphone thingummajigs.'

'Geoffrey,' hissed Una. 'Go-and-see-to-the-barbecue. I'm sorry, darling, you
see we decided after all the scandals there've been with vicars around here
there'd be no point having a Tarts and Vicars party because . . . ' she started to

laugh, ' . . . because everyone thought vicars were tarts anyway. Oh dear,' she
said, wiping her eyes. 'Anyway, how's this new chap, then? What's he doing
working on a Saturday? Durrr! That's not a very good excuse, is it? How are we
going to get you married off at this rate?'