Page 284 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'So what happened?' I said, when Dad had finished putting all her suitcases,

hats, straw donkey (' Isn't it super?') and castanets in the trunk of the Sierra and
had started the engine. I was determined she wasn't going to brazen this one out,
sweep the whole thing under the carpet and start patronizing us again.

'All sorted out now, darling, just a silly misunderstanding. Has someone been

smoking in this car?'

'What happened, Mother?' I said dangerously. 'What about everyone's money
and the timeshare apartments? Where's my two hundred quid?'

'Durr! It was just some silly problem with the planning permission. They can
be very corrupt, you know, the Portuguese authorities. It's all bribery and

baksheesh like Winnie Mandela. So Julio's just paid all the deposits back. We
had a super holiday, actually! The weather was very mixed, but . . . '

'Where is Julio?' I said, suspiciously.

'Oh, he's stayed behind in Portugal to sort out all this planning permission
palaver.'

'What about my house?' said Dad. 'And the savings?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy. There's nothing wrong with
the house.'

Unfortunately for Mum, however, when we got back to The Gables all the
locks had been changed, so we had to go back to Una and Geoffrey's.

'Oof, do you know, Una, I'm so exhausted, I think I'm going to have to go
straight to bed,' said Mum after one look at the resentful faces, wilting cold
collation and tired beetroot slices.

The phone rang for Dad.