Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (Bridget Jones 2)

Everyone was looking at us. But then, instead of someone taking the piss - such as would have happened in the normal world - they pretended nothing had happened and went back to the clinking and braying, completely ignoring me.

Could not gauge how bad or otherwise incident was. Was like being amongst a Papua New Guinea tribe, and treading on the chief's dog and not knowing whether the murmur of conversation meant it didn't matter or that they were discussing how to make your head into a frittata.

Someone rapped on the table for the speeches, which were just really, really, crashingly, fist-eatingly boring. As soon as they were over Mark whispered, "Let's get out, shall we?"

We said our goodbyes, and set off across the room. "Er ... Bridget," he said, "I don't want to worry you. But you've got something slightly odd-looking round your waist."

Shot my hand down to check. Scary corset had somehow unravelled itself from both ends turning into bulging roll round my waist like giant spare tyre.

"What is it?" said Mark, nodding and smiling to people as we made our way through the tables.

"Nothing," I muttered. As soon as we got out of the room I made a bolt for the loo. Was really difficult getting the dress off and unravelling the scary pants then putting the whole nightmare ensemble back again. Really wished I was at home wearing a pair of baggy trousers and a sweater.

When I emerged into the hallway I nearly turned straight back into the loos. Mark was talking to Rebecca. Again. She whispered something in his ear, then burst out into a horrid hooting laugh.

I'walked up to them and stood there awkwardly. "Here she is!" said Mark. "All sorted out?"

"Bridget!" said Rebecca, pretending to be pleased to see me. "I hear you've been impressing everyone with your political views!"

Wished could think of something v. amusing to say, but instead just stood there looking out under lowered eyebrows.

"Actually, it was great," said Mark. "She made the whole lot of us look like pompous arses. Anyway, must be off, nice to see you again."

Rebecca kissed us both effusively in a cloud of Gucci Envy then sashayed back into the dining room in a way that was really obvious she hoped Mark was watching.

Couldn't think what to say as we walked to the car. He and Rebecca had obviously been laughing at me behind my back and then he'd tried to cover up for it. Wished could ring up Jude and Shaz for advice.

Mark was behaving as if nothing had happened. As soon as we set off he started trying to slide his hand up my thigh. Why is it that the less you appear to want sex with men the more they do?

"Don't you want to keep your hands on the wheel?" I said, desperately trying to shrink back, to keep the edge of the rubber roll-on thing away from his fingers.

"No. I want to ravish you," he said, lunging at a bollard. Managed to remain intact by feigning road safety obsession.

"Oh. Rebecca said did we want to go round for dinner sometime?" he said.

I couldn't believe this. I've known Rebecca for four years and she has never once asked me round for dinner.

"She looked nice, didn't she? Nice dress thing."

It was Mentionitis. It was Mentionitis happening before my very ears.

We'd reached Notting Hill. At the lights, without asking me, he just turned in the direction of my house, and away from his. He was keeping his castle intact. It was probably full of messages from Rebecca. I was a Just For Now Girl.

"Where are we going?" I burst out.

"Your flat. Why?" he said, looking round in alarm.

"Exactly. Why?" I said furiously. "We've been going out for four weeks and six days. And we've never stayed at your house. Not once. Not ever! Why?"

Mark went completely silent. He indicated, turned left, then swung back towards Holland Park Avenue without saying a word.

"What's the matter?" I said eventually.

He stared straight ahead and flicked on the indicator. "I don't like shouting."

When we got back to his house it was awful. Walked up the steps together in silence. He opened the door, picked up the mail and flicked the lights on in the kitchen.

Kitchen is the height of a double-decker bus and one of those seamless stainless steel ones where you cannot tell which one is the fridge. Was a strange absence of things lying around and three pools of cold light in the middle of the floor.