Bridget Jones's Baby: The Diaries (Bridget Jones 4)

MIRANDA

Are we fired?

SHAZZER

Bridge, I’ve just had a blazing row with Tom. Can I talk to you?

MAGDA

Bridge—not only do I have no nanny, but I’ve just found Jeremy’s credit card bill and it’s full of hotels and Agent Provocateur. Will you call me?

MUM

Darling, just wanted to firm up about the pre-vote debate event. Will you call me?

DANIEL FUCKWIT DO NOT ANSWER

Jones. Could you please call me back? If it hadn’t been for this baby business I could have defended myself. You have broken me. You owe me some support.

PERI CAMPOS

Bridget: Where the fuck are you? In my office. Now.

—

7.10 p.m. Think had better call Dad.

ELEVEN

“NO”

MONDAY 20 NOVEMBER

7.30 p.m. Still in Sit Up Britain toilets. “Listen, pet,” said Dad on the phone. “You can’t spend your whole time trying to please everybody else. You’ve got a baby to take care of now, and that’s what you need to do. One of the best things you can learn in life is how to say no. Or better still, ‘Absolutely not.’?”

“But what about…”

“You’re exhausted. You need to take care of yourself and your baby. Can you do that if you’re going to listen to Daniel going on about his book, sort out Tom’s row with Shazzer, sort out Magda’s row with her nanny and her husband, come to Mum’s Queen visit meeting nightmare? Drive all that way on your own pregnant and have everyone be rude to you, all caught up in their own affairs and asking you difficult questions. And do whatever ridiculous Peri Campos says?”

“No.”

“Just no?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly. Absolutely not.”

—

7.45 p.m. Peri Campos’s office. Walked in to find Richard Finch sitting, looking mortified, as Peri Campos ranted on: “She’s late, she’s disorganized, she spends the whole time in the loo and she’s fucking up my show: Bridget Jones!”

“Look, that’s not fair,” said Richard. “Bridget Jones has been the backbone of Sit Up Britain for…”

“Zip it, Richard, or you’ll be next.”

“Are you going to fire me?” I said.

“No, my love,” she purred. “I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to get my money’s worth out of you. You’re going to get in here at eight o’clock every morning. You’re going to go through the tabloids, and the gossip mags, you’re going to forget about local council election this and Africans with flies in their eyes that, and you’re going to come up with some scary, sexy stories that are going to make people actually sit up and either scream or wank but not fall asleep. You cool with that?”