Bridget Jones's Baby: The Diaries (Bridget Jones 4)
Page 38
1) Increasingly large baby asking for baked potatoes, cheese, gherkins and, suddenly, vodka.
2) A completely confused and broken heart. Why did Mark write that letter? Just when it had all been so sweet on the car journey from Grafton Underwood. Why? What happened? Why isn’t he answering my texts? Maybe he actually thinks I’m trashy and slutty and Daniel reminds him of the part of me he doesn’t like.
—
Furtively FaceTimed Tom under the desk.
“You’re not trashy or slutty,” said Tom on FaceTime. “You’re a top news producer and you’re practically a nun. You need to play At Least. You know? That thing you showed me, when I was being tortured by Pretentious Jerome? At least? At least I have this, that or the other. Makes it seem better?”
“Yes! Yes!” I said, brightening. “Thanks, Tom.”
Clicked FaceTime off.
FaceTime popped up again: Tom.
“Bridge, just a note to self. Don’t FaceTime anyone again from that angle.”
Tom disappeared, then popped up again on FaceTime: “Am I a horrible person?”
“Bridget, get on,” said Richard Finch, walking past my desk and glancing at my boobs.
Quickly texted Tom, “No, nice person,” then started typing furiously and staring intently at the screen: for all the world as if I was working on the day’s running order.
AT LEAST
I’m having a baby.
It might be all right with Mark—it could just be a blip.
Daniel is still in the picture, so at least one father left.
Daniel might change.
I have my own flat.
I have my own car.
I have a lovely dad.
Mum might change and start being happy about the baby instead of obsessed with the Queen’s visit.
I am surrounded by friends, both Singleton and Smug Married, like an extended, warm, third-world family.
I have a great job and no one, apart from Miranda, knows I am pregnant yet.
—
“They’re fucking enormous,” came a loud whisper behind me.
“Woah, bro. They’re totally legit.”
“Look at this, Jordan. From this angle, against the sign, the tips used to be just teasing the P on Sit Up Britain, but now they’re right across the B.”
“Yo. Sick, bro.”
“I mean they’re fucking enor—”
“Woah. Just, like totally boss, bro.”