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

As we emerged into freezing rain and high winds, I overheard the mother of the footballing boys saying nastily to a bemused Mark, "But it's wonderful having children just being themselves at a wedding. I mean that's what a wedding is all about, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," said Mark cheerfully. "Couldn't hear a bloody thing."

Returned to Claridge's to find Jude's parents had unbridledly pushed the boat out and the ballroom was festooned with bronzed, be-leaved and be-fruited streamer things and copper-coloured pyramids of fruit and cherubs the size of donkeys.

All you could hear, when walked in, was people going: "Two hundred and fifty grand."

"Oh come on. It must have been at least 300,000."

"Are you kidding? Claridge's? Half a million."

Caught sight of Rebecca, looking frantically round the room with a fixed smile like a toy with a head on a stick. Giles was nervously following her, his hand hovering round her waist.

Jude's father, Sir Ralph Russell, a booming 'don't worry, everyone, I'm a fantastically rich and successful businessman', was shaking Sharon's hand in the line.

"Ah, Sarah," he roared. "Feeling better?"

"Sharon," corrected Jude, radiantly.

"Oh yes, thank you," said Shaz, a hand delicately fluttering to her throat. "It was -just the heat ... "

Nearly spurted out laughing considering it was so fridge-like that everyone was wearing thermal underwear. "Are you sure it wasn't the tightness of your stays

against the Chardonnav, Shaz." said Mark, at which she stuck a finger up at him, laughing.

Jude's mother smiled icily. She was stick thin in some sort of encrusted Escada nightmare with unexplained fins sticking out around the hips, presumably to make it look as if she had some. (Oh joyous deception to be in need of.)

"Giles, don't put your wallet in your trouser pocket, darling, it makes your thighs look big," snapped Rebecca.

"Now you're being co-dependent, darling," said Giles, putting his hand towards her waist.

"I'm not" said Rebecca, brushing his hand away crossly, then putting back the smile. "Mark" she cried. She looked at him as if she thought the crowd had parted, time had stopped still and the Glen Miller Band was going to strike up with 'It Had to be You'.

"Oh hi..." said Mark, casually. "Giles, old boy! Never thought I'd see you in a waistcoat!"

"Hello, Bridget," said Giles, giving me a smacking kiss. "Lovely dress."

"Apart from the hole," said Rebecca.

I looked away in exasperation and spotted Magda at the edge of the room looking agonized, obsessively pushing a non-existent strand of hair from her face.

"Oh that's part of the design," Mark was saying, smiling proudly. "It's a Yurdisb fertility symbol."

"Excuse me," I said. Then reached up and whispered in Mark's car, "There's something wrong with Magda."

Found Magda so upset she could hardly speak. "Stop it, darling, stop it," she was saying vaguely as Con

stance tried messily to push a chocolate lolly into the pocket of her pistachio suit.

"What's wrong"'

"That ... that ... witch who had the affair with Jeremy last year. She's here. If he so much as dares fucking speak to her - "

"Hey, Constance? Did you enjoy the wedding?" It was Mark, holding out a glass of champagne for Magda. "What?" said Constance, looking up at Mark with round eyes.

"The wedding? In the church?"

"The parpy?"