Page 275 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

Grand Marnier Crème Anglaise but merely drink Grand Marnier.

10 p.m. V. sad. Looked expectantly round table as everyone took first mouthful
of confit. There was an embarrassed silence.

'What's this, hon?' said Tom eventually. 'Is it marmalade?'

Horror-struck, took mouthful myself. It was, as he said, marmalade. Realize

after all effort and expense have served my guests: Blue soup Omelette

Marmalade Am disastrous failure. Michelin-star cookery? Kwik-fit, more like.

Did not think things could get any worse after the marmalade. But no sooner
was the horrible meal cleared away than the phone went. Fortunately I took it in
the bedroom. It was Dad.

'Are you on your own?' he said. 'No. Everyone's round here, Jude and
everyone. Why?'

'I - wanted you to be with someone when . . . I'm sorry, Bridget. I'm afraid
there's been some rather bad news.'

'What? What?'

'Your mother and Julio are wanted by the police.'

2 a.m. Northamptonshire in single bed in the Alconburys' spare room. Ugh.
Had to sit down and get my breath back while Dad said, 'Bridget? Bridget?
Bridget?' over and over again in manner of a parrot.

'What's happened?' I managed to get out eventually. 'I'm afraid they - possibly,