Page 235 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

their ruby weddings soon. Knowing Mum, it is highly unlikely she will let a

trifling detail like leaving her husband and going off with a tour operator stand in
the way of the celebrations and will be determined not to be outdone by Elaine
Darcy at whatever price, even the sacrifice of a harmless daughter to an arranged
marriage.

'Hold hard there, big feller,' said my dad, squeezing my arm.

'What a lovely house. Haven't you got a nice stole to put over your shoulders,
Bridget? Dandruff!' trilled Mum, brushing Dad's back. 'Now, darling. Why on
earth aren't you talking to Mark?'

'Urn, well . . . ' I mumbled.

'What do you think, Pam?' hissed Una tensely, nodding at the room.

'Showy,' whispered Mum, exaggerating her lip movements like Les Dawson.

'Exactly what I said,' mouthed Una triumphantly. 'Didn't I say so, Cohn?
Showy.'

I glanced around nervously and jumped in fright. There, looking at us, not

three feet away, was Mark Darcy. He must have heard everything. I opened my
mouth to say something - I'm not quite sure what - to try to improve matters, but
he walked away.

Dinner was served in the 'Drawing Room' on the ground floor and I found
myself in the queue on the stairs directly behind Mark Darcy.

'Hi,' I said, hoping to make amends for my mother's rudeness. He looked
round, completely ignored me and looked back again.

'Hi,' I said again and poked him.

'Oh, hi, I'm sorry. I didn't see you,' he said.