Page 182 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'I heard you come in here so . . . I thought . . . It was secret assignation,' I said,

approaching him in what would have been a sexy way were it not for the floral
sprig dress. I leaned my head on his chest and put my arms around him, trying to
smell his shirt for perfume traces and get a good look at the bed, which was
unmade as usual.

'Mmmm, you've still got the bunny girl outfit on underneath, haven't you?' he
said, starting to unzip the bridesmaid dress and pressing against me in a way
which made his intentions very clear. I suddenly thought this might be a trick
and he was going to seduce me while the woman slipped out unnoticed.

'Oooh, the kettle must be boiling, said Daniel suddenly, zipping my dress up
again and patting me reassuringly in a way that was most unlike him. Usually
once he gets going he will see things through to their logical conclusion come
earthquake, tidal wave or naked pictures of Virginia Bottomley on the television.

'Ooh yes, better make that cuppa,' I said, thinking it would give me a chance
to get a good look round the bedroom and scout the study.

'After you,' said Daniel, pushing me out and shutting the door so I had to walk
ahead of him back into the kitchen. As I did so I suddenly caught sight of the
door that led up to the roof terrace.

'Shall we go and sit down?' said Daniel.

T'hat was where she was, she was on the bloody roof.

'What's the matter with you?' he said as I stared at the door suspiciously.

'Nothing,' I sing-songed gaily, flopping into the sitting room. 'Just a little tired
from the party.'

I flung myself insouciantly on to the sofa, wondering whether to streak faster
than the speed of light down to the study as the final place she might be or just
go hell for leather for the roof I figured if she wasn't on the roof it meant she