Bridget Jones's Baby (12 page)

Car journey could only be described as tense. I was trying to mentally force the clock on the dashboard to go backwards, and move lorries and bicycles out of the way by the sheer power of thought, whilst realizing we were half an hour past the moment when I was supposed to be at my desk. Daniel was preoccupied and twitching, playing with the controls on the car and suddenly zooming and braking, in a way that made me think I was going to be sick in it again.

When we got to the
Sit Up Britain
building, Daniel stayed sitting down, with the engine running. “All right, then, Jones. Well, great to catch up.”

“ ‘Great to catch up'?” I said.

“See you around.”

“ ‘See you around'?”

“Jones, don't keep repeating everything I say like a parrot.”

“ ‘Like a parrot'?”

“Jones.”

“I'm so confused. We just went to a scan together and now you're saying, ‘Great to catch up,' and ‘See you around,' as if we've just slept together.”

“Right, right,” said Daniel. “It's all the same with you girls, isn't it? Just because we go to a scan together it doesn't mean we're going out together. It doesn't mean we have to get all serious and start having babies.”

“But we're already having a baby. That's why we went to the scan.”

“No, Jones,” he said. “You're having a baby.”

I froze.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Look. I just don't think I can do this. I don't think I have the skill set.”

“What if it's yours?”

“I suppose I could try.”

“And if it isn't?”

“Well, that would change everything. Sorry, sorry, oh, come on, don't look at me like that, Jones. The point is, if we'd done it up the arse like I wanted to, none of this would have happened.”

“Daniel,” I said, getting out of the car. “You can shove your mouth up your own bum. And if it was a choice of bringing up the baby with you or Peri Campos, I would choose Peri Campos.”

Beyond late, mind reeling from Daniel, I rushed up to the seventh floor, grabbed a sheaf of papers and held them in front of my stomach—to give a pleasing air of just having popped out to the scanner and not being late or pregnant at all—then walked casually into the office: to find Peri Campos conducting a meeting for the entire
Sit Up Britain
staff.

“It's wet, it's see-through and without it we'd DIE! Water!” she was yelling, strutting in front of a smart board while the youths in their man-buns sat up attentively at the front and the old guard sat sulkily at the back.

“Bridget, you're thirty-five minutes late, dated and boring.
Sit Up Britain
is dated and boring. The title is dated and boring. The staff is dated and boring. The content is dated and boring. We need tension, we need action, we need suspense. ‘They're small, they're fiercely powerful, they're potential killers and they're ALL OVER YOUR HOUSE!' Well?” She looked around expectantly.

“Ants!” said Jordan.

“Vacuums!” said Richard Finch.

“Vibrators?” said Miranda, as I spurted out laughing.

“It's batteries,” said Peri Campos, drily, “for those of us who have any sort of tenuous handle on today's news. Bridget, see me in my office nine o'clock on Monday morning. That's nine o'clock—not three in the afternoon: not late.”

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Promise! I love that word because it raises so many talking points.”

“Please don't sack her,” said Richard Finch, looking at me and miming, “Are you mad?”

F
RIDAY 17
N
OVEMBER

8.30 p.m. My flat.
Have sense of impending doom. Am about to be sacked, both the fathers hate me, everything is a mess, is Friday night and am all alone. Aloooooone!

But, yes. I do have friends. Singletons to have fun and laugh with! There's no need to wallow. Will simply call Shazzer.

9 p.m.
Conversation with Shazzer did not go well.

“Shaz? It's Bridget. Are you and Tom going out tonight?”

There was silence at the other end: the same silence as I used to emit when Magda called to see if she could come out with us and try, Smug-Marriedly and in vain, to share in our debauched Singleton fun.

“It's juss”—she sounded really drunk—“we're in Hackney iss a bit kind of…out there?”

I bit my lip, tears pricking my eyelids. They didn't even ask me to come! I'm not a Singleton anymore. I'm not a Smug Married. I'm a freak!

“Bridge. What's going on? Have we got cut off?”

“Why didn't you ask me to come?”

“Well…it's just, it's kind of a bit drunken and out there, you know, in your…”

“In my condition?”

I could hear squabbling in the background. Tom came on the phone, even more drunk than Shaz.

“It's bit messy, y'see,” he said. “Miranda's…”

What? Miranda as well, there without asking me?

10 p.m.
The thing is, when you feel isolated and alone, you have to “reach out” to people, don't you?

10.05 p.m.
Am going to “reach out” by texting.

10.15 p.m.
This is what have texted:

Magda, I feel so isolated and alone. I cannot live the Singleton life any longer. I need my Smug Married friends to support me through this testing time.

Shazzer, I feel so isolated and alone. Even though I am pregnant I am not a Smug Mother and need the support of my Singleton friends to support me through this testing time.

Mum, I feel isolated and alone. I cannot get through this without the support of my dear, dear mother. I need my mother to support me through this testing time.

Mark, I feel isolated and alone. I cannot go through this testing time without the support of my dear, dear Mark. I need you to support me through this testing time.

Daniel, I feel isolated and alone…

At that point I fell asleep.

S
ATURDAY 18
N
OVEMBER

11 a.m. My flat.
Gaah! Woken by series of pinging and ringing noises. Searched confusedly in duvet for source.

“Hello?” I said into the landline whilst fumbling for still-pinging cellphone.

“It's Magda. I was SO happy to get your text. We've all been DYING to chip in but we thought you were cozied up with your single friends and we were too boring. Anyway, you'll come to lunch in Portobello today? And then we'll start and get you sorted out. Of course everyone's going to give you endless insane advice, but not me.”

“Um, I'm still in bed, but…”

“In bed? Bridget, you are wearing a bra?”

“No. Should I?”

“Yes, or you'll end up with one breast under each arm, but nothing with underwiring.”

“Why not?” I said, thinking of my precious lift-and-separate lingerie collection.

“Underwiring crushes the milk ducts.”

“Hang on,” I answered the cellphone. It was Tom.

“Tom! Hi! I'm on the other line. Call you back?”

“OK. Check your texts. We're meeting you in the Electric for Bloody Marys at one p.m.”

“Sorry, Mag,” I said, putting the landline back to my ear to find her still talking.

“Oh, and don't eat raw eggs.”

“Why would I eat raw eggs?”

“But, actually, the only advice really worth taking is not to lie down.”

“How can I not lie down?”

“Not on your back, because your main artery to your brain goes through your back.”

The cellphone rang again, “Darling, it's Mummy”—in tears—“I had no idea you needed me. I thought you HATED me, it's been so…”

“Magda, I have to go. Mum is on the other line.”

“OK, see you in the Electric at one.”

Returned to the sound of Mum sobbing into the phone. “Darling, I thought you were on no-speaks. I'm so glad you need me, darling. Anyway, we're coming down to Debenhams tomorrow afternoon, so will you come too and we can go shopping?”

“I'd love to, but…”

The landline rang. “Mum, I've got to go, I'll call you back later.”

Magda again: “The only other thing I was going to say is don't go swimming because it puts a strain on the uterus.”

I glanced down at my texts: a stream of placatory blandishments from Tom, Shaz and Miranda. We were all supposed to be meeting in the Electric at one o'clock, but wait…

“…oh, and if your hair starts falling out,” Magda was continuing, “just rub a bit of engine oil in your scalp. Anyway, better get moving. See you in the Electric at one! Woney and Mufti are coming!”

“Um…” I thought, panicking wildly. I couldn't have the Smug Mothers turning up at the Electric at the same time as Tom, Miranda and Shazzer.

“The Electric's a bit noisy, could we make it at two…at Café 202?”

“Oh,” she said, huffily. “Well. I've told Mufti and Woney now, but…OK yes. See you there.”

Just before I left I heard my email ping.