Page 85 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'What? Er hahahaha, you mean the weekend after this one?'

'Yeeeeees,, next weekend,' he said, with an encouraging, slightly patronizing
air, as if he had been teaching me to speak English.

'Oooh. Yes, please,' I said, forgetting the ice-queen mantra in the excitement.

Next thing he came up and asked if I wanted to come round the corner for
lunch. We arranged to meet outside the building so no one would suspect
anything and it was all rather thrilling and clandestine until he said, as we
walked towards the pub, 'Listen, Bridge, I'm really sorry, I've fucked up.'

'Why? What?' I said, even, as I spoke, remembering my mum and wondering
if I ought to be saying 'Pardon?'

'I can't make Prague next weekend. I don't know what I was thinking about.
But maybe we'll do it another time.' A siren blared in my head and a huge neon
sign started flashing with Sharon's head in the middle going, 'FUCKWITTAGE,
FUCKWITTAGE'.

I stood stock still on the pavement, glowering up at him.

'What's the matter?' he said, looking amused.

'I'm fed up with you,' I said furiously. 'I told you quite specifically the first
time you tried to undo my skirt that I am not into emotional fuckwittage. It was

very bad to carry on flirting, sleep with me then not even follow it up with a
phone call, and try to pretend the whole thing never happened. Did you just ask
me to Prague to make sure you could still sleep with me if you wanted to as if
we were on some sort of ladder?'

'A ladder, Bridge?, said Daniel, What sort of ladder?'

'Shut up,' I bristled crossly. 'It's all chop-change chop-change with you. Either

go out with me and treat me nicely, or leave me alone. As I say, I am not