"Go on!" hissed Shaz.
I took a big breath. "Owed it to me? Honey.." At this Jude and Shaz collapsed on each other in ecstasy. Honey! Was practically being Linda Fiorentino in The Last Seduction. "I don't need anyone in my life because they owe it to me," I went on determinedly. "I have got the best most loyal, wise, witty, caring, supportive friends in the world. And if I were to be your friend after the way you've treated me . . ."
"But ... What way?" He sounded anguished.
"If I was still to be your friend ..." I was flagging.
"Go on," hissed Shaz.
". . . You would be really lucky."
"All. right, you've said enough," said Mark. "If you don't want me to explain, I won't pester you with phone calls. Goodbye, Bridget."
I replaced the handset, stunned, and looked round at the friends. Sharon was lying on the rug, waving a fag triumphantly in the air and Jude was swigging straight out of the bottle of Chardonnay. Suddenly I had an awful feeling I had made the most terrible mistake.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. I ran at it. "Can I come in?" said a muffled man's voice. Mark!
"Of course," I said, relieved, turning to Jude and Shaz saying, "Do you think you could, like, go in the bedroorn?" They were just disgruntledly picking themselves up from the floor when the door to the flat opened, only it wasn't Mark but Tom.
"Bridget! You're looking so thin!" he said. "Oh God." He slumped at the kitchen table. "Oh God. Life is shite, life is a tale told by a cynical . . ."
"Tom," said Shazzer. "We were having a conversation."
"And none of us 'ave seen you for blurry weeks," slurred Jude resentfully.
"A conversation? Not about me? Whatever can it have been about? Oh God - fucking Jerome, fucking, fucking Jerome."
"Jerome?" I said, horrified. "Pretentious Jerome? I thought you'd banished him from your life for ever."
"He left all these messages when I went to San Francisco," said Tom sheepishly. "So we started seeing each other and then tonight I just hinted at us getting back together, well, tried to snog him, and Jerome said, he said . . ." Tom brushed angrily at one eye. "He just didn't fancy me."
There was a stunned silence. Pretentious Jerome had committed a vicious, selfish, unforgivable, ego-destroying crime against all the laws of dating decency.
"I'm not attractive," said Tom despairingly. "I'm a confirmed love pariah."
Instantly we swung into action, Jude grabbing Chardonnay while Shaz put her arm round him and I brought a chair gabbling, "You're not, you're not!"
"Then why did he say that? Why? WHYYYYYYYYY?"
"It'ss perfickly obvious," said Jude, handing him a glass. "Iss because Pretentious Jerome is straight."
"Straight as a die," said Shaz. "I've known that boy wasn't gay since first time I blurry sawim."
"St-.-aight." Jude giggled in agreement. "Straight as a very straight, straight ... penis."
5. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy
Sunday 2 March
5 a.m. Aaargh. Have just remembered what happened.
5.03 a.m. Why did I do that? Why? Why? Wish could get back to sleep or up.
5.30 a.m. Weird how quickly time goes when you have a hangover. Is because you have so few thoughts: exactly opposite to when people are drowning, entire life flashes past and moment seems to last for ever because they are having so many thoughts.
6 a.m. You see half an hour just went like that, because I did not have any thoughts. Oof. Actually head hurts quite a lot. Oh God. Hope was not sick on coat.
7 a.m. Trouble is, they never tell you what will happen if you drink more than two units a day or, more to point, entire week's worth of alcohol units in one night. Does it mean you will get a magenta face and gnarled nose in manner of gnome, or that you are an alcoholic? But in that case everybody at the party we went on to last night must have been an alcoholic. Except that the only people who weren't drinking were the alcoholics. Hmm.