Bridget Jones: After the Kiss
Chapter V
Turkey Curry Buffet
Weight: 9st 6; Cigarettes: 0 (v.v.g.- constantly with Mark); Sneaky, jealous boyfriends: 1; Secrets revealed: 1
Tuesday January 19:00am Can't believe how fantastic last night was with Mark. He is something of a supreme sex god! Love lying here watching him sleep. Think I'll just have a look under the sheets to pass the time. Hmm…V. nice. Can't believe how lucky I am for having snagged such a magnificent man, even if he does fold his underpants. Maybe if he wakes up right now, he could ravish me again before we head off for Grafton-Underwood. He's not moving. Must have worn him out last night…or he's died of a heart attack.
"Bridget, why are you staring at me?" Gah! How did he know?
Laid my still a bit blurry head on his chest, as he turned over onto his back, naked beneath the sheets. Hmmm… So hard to resist.
"Bridget, did you know that Daniel Cleaver was at the party last night?" Oh God! He did see Daniel.
"Uh…yes, I did happen to notice that he was there with someone." He could probably feel my heart pounding more rapidly. "Mark,…"
"Did you speak to him?"
I didn't want to lie to him. "Um…yes, I did, but only for a moment. Mark,…" I lifted my head from his chest to look straight into his entrancing light brown eyes. "You have nothing to worry about. It's you that I…want to be with." I still couldn't say what I wanted to really say. A half-smile appeared on his lips.
"I know." He sounded unconvinced and even a bit worried. He kissed me sweetly once…then again…then again…we shared a delightful, slow, mid-morning shag. Nowhere near the drunken rapture of our late night escapade, but lovely just the same.
11:10am While Mark showered, I decided that I would surprise him with breakfast. Light, fluffy cheese omelettes, juice and coffee. Dutifully, I began to grate, stir, and flip. Oooo…phone…was Shaz, back from Paris.
"So…how's Mark? Is he there now? Fill me in! Tell me fucking everything!" I tried to get a word in. "Is his arse as gorgeous out of his trousers as it is in them?
"Great…Yes…I already told you yesterday…and…even more so," trying to sound nonchalant, but then I began to giggle uncontrollably.
"Tell me again. This time leave NOTHING out." Poor Shaz lives vicariously through me since fuckwit, Simon is such a total crumb.
Was stretched across the bed, pouring out every fantastically romantic and erotic detail of the last few days when I was suddenly jolted back into reality by a terrible earsplitting sound. "What the hell is that!" Sprang off the bed. Mark bolted out of the loo, glanced at me then darted toward the kitchen. Flames were shooting out of the frying pan that contained the forgotten omelettes. The kitchen filled with black smoke. "Oh shit!"
My knight in pink cotton armour searched for something to douse the fire before ripping the towel from his waist to smother the flame.
"Oh, he looks angry. I'll call you back Shaz."
"Well, are going to just stand there? Do…something!" Mark shouted over the blaring smoke alarm. With shaken hesitation, stood on a chair to get the alarm from the wall and ripped the batteries from back to make it stop squawking. There was a pounding on the door from the neighbours downstairs. Exasperated, Mark promptly exited the room to find his clothes.
"Is everything alright in here?" Vanessa asked, the same half naked man from a few days ago trailing behind her.
"Yes, of course, just a tiny kitchen fire. Could happen to anyone, right?" She did not look amused and retreated without saying a word.
Mark reemerged from the loo, looking even angrier than before. "Bridget, what in the name of all that is holy were you thinking? You could have burned the whole bloody building down! If you put something on the stove, for Christ sake, watch it!"
My eyes dropped to the floor. Don't cry, stupid Bridget. Do not let a man make you cry. Hope this is not going to be what our life together will be like, him making love to me one hour like I was a woman, and reprimanding me like a child the next.
Just stood silent for a moment, then said innocently, shrugging my shoulders a bit, "I just wanted to make you breakfast."
Mark's mood softened, hopefully realizing that he was not in fact speaking to a 2 year old. "I'm sorry darling…I guess I just realized…that…I don't know what I would do…if something… were to happen to you," he stammered through his strained but heartfelt declaration. We embraced. Suddenly further realized to what extent Mark cares for me. My heart is so full of this man.
Mark read the morning newspaper at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee while I showered and dressed for the dreaded Turkey Curry Buffet. The demonic-looking snowman glared back at me through the mirror, repeatedly catching my attention as I tried to make sense of my hair. Ugh!
Unexpectedly, Mark appeared behind me, encircling my waist with his arms and resting his face in the curve of my neck with a faint sigh of contentment. Somehow, this year, his snowman jumper didn't seem as silly as last year's reindeer disaster. Ironic really how one's perception of a person can change so dramatically over time due to unforeseen circumstances.
"So how are we going to do this? It could be fun," Mark announced, lifting his head to look at my reflection in the mirror, his arms still around me.
"What?" The shocked expression on my face made him laugh.
He knew what I was thinking. "I wasn't suggesting new ways to use the loo facilities…though not an entirely bad idea." He kissed my neck again. "What I meant was, how are we going to handle this buffet situation? No one but my parents knows about our…uh…union, and I swore Mother to secrecy."
"Oh God. Can only imagine what Mum will say. She will take full credit for everything of course. Ugh! I do not want to be "outted" in front of a room full of drunken perverts disguised as family friends."
"Well, I was thinking it might be fun to put on a little charade of sorts." He turned me toward him and began to kiss my neck as he spoke softly. "A stolen kiss here...a covert hug there…a clandestine meeting in the garden at 4. What do you think of that?"
"Sounds very exciting Mark…you devil." Oh goody. Love games. We kissed passionately to seal the deal.
11:50pm We decided to arrive separately. Drove to Mark's parent's home together. Then took a taxi to Mum and Dad's. Mark was going to drive over with his parents in an hour or so. Mum had her usual culinary oddities displayed. Many guests had already arrived, including Una and "Uncle" Geoffrey. Oh God, here he comes…
While trying to dodge Geoffrey, ran into Cousin Roy. Was trapped in a rather uninteresting, inescapable conversation about fly-fishing when HE arrived.
So very handsome. Can't believe he is with me. Gave him a surreptitious wink.
Was wondering when the humiliation would start. Mum grabbed my elbow and began to parade me around the room. Glanced over at Mark who was standing with a group of people I didn't know, positioned so that he could watch the show without being too obvious.
"Thank you for coming," she announced to various 30 and 40 somethings . "This is my daughter, Bridget. She's a successful journalist, but rather unlucky in love." Oh Jesus, why not just auction my off to the highest bidder! Most of the men Mum has introduced me to so far have given the all too familiar, fake smile, "nice to meet you" bit, before turning back to their previous occupations. This is more humiliating than I thought it would be.
Mark approached me, holding an empty plate as I began to fill my own plate at the buffet. He began to load his own plate with mini gherkins and turkey curry. "Has your mum sold you to the highest bidder yet?" he joked. God, was he reading my mind?
"Not funny. This is thoroughly humiliating. I want to tell her the …." Mark began to massage my lower back with his free hand, making sure no one was watching.
"Meet me upstairs in 10 minutes," he whispered. My nether-regions began to twinge spontaneously.
Luckily was able to steal a few moments with Dad, who was standing alone munching on a carrot nibblet. "How's it going Dad?"
"Disastrous state of affairs really. How are you?"
"Not bad. Just wish Mum would stop trying to fix me up with every eligible bachelor in England."
"Yes, I can see how that would be an inconvenience to you and that Darcy fellow." He gave me a wink.
"What? How did you know?"
"I've been watching you Dear. It hasn't been that hard to figure out. Mark seems to be quite taken with you as well. He has hardly been able to keep his eyes off of you all afternoon."
"Really? He's been watching me?" completely disregarding the fact that my father had been spying on me. "Dad, please don't tell Mum. Not yet anyway. We don't want…"
"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
"Thanks Dad." I kissed him on the cheek, then glanced at the clock. "We'll I've got to visit the loo. See you later."
Bounding up the stairs, trying not to seem too eager, I searched the landing. No sign of Mark. Walked slowly down the hallway. Suddenly was pulled through an open doorway into a spare bedroom. "What took you so long?" Mark locked the door behind me and began to flood my neck with kisses. Our evil snowmen engaged in a nose-to-nose face-off as we tumbled onto the bed. We were in full mode of a teenage-like grope and fondle session when we heard approaching footsteps. "Bridget?…Bridget darling, where are you?" Was Mum. The locked door handle jiggled. "Bridget, are you in there?" Oh shit! Mark and I furiously began to smooth our rumpled clothes and straighten the bed linens. "Get in the wardrobe," I whispered urgently. Mark rolled his eyes and then complied. This definitely wasn't the way I wanted Mum to find out. "Just a minute, Mum."
"What are you doing in there? I've found the perfect man for you. He's 41. He's in television, just like you Dear. He works for the BBC. Oh, and he's divorced. He has a 4-year-old daughter, named Rachel. Now we won't need to worry about you being too old to have babies, Darling, he already has one." A chuckle came from inside the wardrobe.
Flung open the door. "Mother, please…I do not need for you to find me a boyfriend." Tried to hide my worry as Mum poked her head through the doorway to look around.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just having a lie down for a bit. Not feeling too well after last night's party."
"You really mustn't drink so much Dear. You will get all wrinkly and then how ever will you catch a husband?"
"Oh please Mother!" embarrassed that Mark was hearing every pathetic word.
"We'll come on…mustn't keep Roger waiting." Mum snapped her fingers for me to follow.
Deep sigh. "I'll be right down. Just let me freshen up a bit."
Mum looked at me strangely then began to walk away. I closed the door.
Mark climbed out of the wardrobe with utter amusement all over his face. "Oh this is fun!"
"Oh sod off. It is not," I pouted. He reached for me, but I stepped back and turned toward the door. "Now if you will excuse me, my dear, it appears that I have a date," I teased and left him alone in the bedroom.
Downstairs the room was still abuzz with activity. Mum and Auntie Una were fusing over the buffet table, while Dad and a couple of old farts huddled sullenly in the far corner of the lounge. In sharp contrast, Jamie and a few of his mates circulated about the room in usual jovial manner.
My dear brother, Jamie, has always had a much easier time of it than I –tall and handsome, very smart having graduated from Cambridge just a few years behind Mark. His evil, stick insect wife left him a few years ago for a younger man, but he didn't stay down and out for long. Now he's dating 3 stick insects simultaneously. None of which knows about the others. None of which are here today. Presumably in case he happens upon a fourth that he might like to drag back to his lair. Seriously hope he doesn't become a jaded, man-whore like Daniel Cleaver.
Mark reentered the room, pinching my bum surreptitiously as he passed by. Mum had not yet noticed my return so I slinked off alone toward the kitchen in search of an aspirin. The whole situation was giving me a headache.
"Bridget? Bridget Jones?" I turned to see a slightly stocky, but handsome dark haired man standing in the doorway. "Hi. I'm Roger. Roger Weathersby." He held out his hand for me to shake. "Your mother has told me so much about you."
Oh God! I hope she hasn't told you too much. "How nice." I smiled politely.
Roger really was quite an interesting and funny man. Not only did we both work in television, we seemed to have several things in common, daft, overbearing mothers for one. I genuinely enjoyed chatting with him.
"You would not believe what happened to me at work the other day. I was…" Roger began.
"Sounds like something that would happen to me."
We were both laughing rather loudly when Mark walked in. He stood in the doorway looking rather sad. "Hi Bridget."
"Uh…hi Mark. Mark Darcy this is Roger Weathersby." They shook hands. "Roger here was just telling me about a rather…unfortunate mishap that reminded me a lot of my Lewisham Fire Report." I began to giggle again.
Mark remained serious. "Oh…I see…good. I'm glad the two of you have so much in common." He turned to leave the room. It suddenly occurred to me what was happening. Oh no! I love you Mark! Why don't you tell him that I'm your girlfriend.
I ran to Mark and pulled him back into the room, urging him not to leave. "Where are you going Sweetheart?" The look of disappointment on Roger's face did not escape my notice, or Mark's for that matter. Roger and I said our goodbyes. He and Mark made eye contact but did not speak as he left the room.
"Oooo, green is not a good color for you," I teased, hoping that he would not make an issue of this.
"Pardon?"
"You were jealous. Don't try to deny it. I find that extremely sexy." I playfully lifted the bottom of his jumper and stuck my head and shoulders inside, burying my face in his chest.
"Get out of there, you silly girl." He chuckled. Crisis averted.
"Why were you able to speak to him so freely? When you spoke to me last year you were rendered verbally useless." He pulled me close, backing me against the kitchen counter.
"Oh don't be a dolt. Why do you think?" I teased, placing my hands flat against his chest. "What woman wouldn't become, as I believe you said to your mother, verbally incontinent in the presence of your…uh… overwhelming masculinity."
"Oh, stop taunting me you little vixen." He kissed my forehead…just as Mum and Una came clattering into the kitchen carrying empty serving platters.
And that's how it happened. The truth was out. The jig was up. Mum spent the remainder of the afternoon strutting around like the cat that had gulped down the canary. When she found out that the Darcys already knew, she swore that she would never speak to Elaine again for withholding such pertinent information. That lasted all of an hour. By the end of the day, Mum had already picked out the flavor of our wedding cake and named our future children. Dad and I just rolled our eyes at each other in quiet tolerance.
Mark seemed more than a little uncomfortable with all of Mum's sudden constant hovering and grilling. Shut up stupid mother. You are going to scare him away!
Time to go. Thank goodness! Kissed Mum and Dad goodbye (Mum kissed Mark too), grabbed Mark's hand and followed the Darcys to the car.
"I'll call you tomorrow, Dear."
"Yes, I'm sure you will. Bye Mum...Dad."
On the drive back, I thought about how jealous Mark became when he saw me with Roger. Couldn't help but smile. I think he loves me.
Got back to the flat and we both collapsed onto the sofa to unwind and watch a bit of telly. Have no idea how Blind Date ended, as we decided to finish what we had started in the spare room at Mum and Dad's. Hmmm…
Mark just left, deciding that it was best if he didn't stay the night, but promised to pop round after work tomorrow. Back to reality of the world for both of us…Christmas/New Year holiday break over. Must return to being hard-hitting, woman of substance, well on my way to becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. Message from Richard didn't notice before…Something about a rather terrifying skydiving assignment over the English countryside….must not bugger it up. Time to get some much needed sleep.