Nobody moved.
'OK, everybody,' said Dad, in a tense, serious, manly sort of voice. 'There is a dangerous criminal upstairs using Pam as a hostage.'
'Oh, she didn't seem to mind, if you ask me,' piped up Granny in a rare and most untimely moment of clarity. 'Oh look, there's a biscuit in the dahlias.'
I looked out of the window and nearly jumped out of my skin. There was Mark Darcy slipping, lithe as a whippersnapper, across the lawn and in through the French windows. He was sweating, dirty, his hair was unkempt, his shirt unbuttoned. Ding-dong!
'Everyone keep completely still and quiet, as if everything is normal,' he said softly. We were all so stunned, and he so thrillingly authoritative, that we started doing as he said as if hypnotized zombies.
'Mark,' I whispered as I walked past him with the gravy. 'What are you saying? There is no normal.'
'I'm not sure whether Julio's violent. The police are outside. If we can get your mum to come downstairs and leave him up there they can go in and get him.'
'OK. Leave it to me,' I said, and walked to the bottom of the stairs.
'Mum!' I yelled. 'I can't find any savory doilies.'
Everyone held their breath. There was no response.
'Try again,' whispered Mark, looking at me admiringly.
'Get Una to take the gravy back into the kitchen,' I hissed. He did what I said, then gave me a thumbs-up. I gave him a thumbs-up back and cleared my throat.
'Mum?' I shouted up the stairs again. 'Do you know where the sieve is? Una's a bit worried about the gravy.'
Ten seconds later there was a pounding down the stairs and Mum burst in, looking flushed.
'The savory doilies are in the savory doily holder on the wall, you silly willy. Now. What's Una done with this gravy. Durr! We're going to have to use the Magimix!'
Even as she spoke there were footsteps running up the stairs and a scuffle broke out above us.
'Julio!' shrieked Mum and started to run for the door.
The detective I recognized from the police station was standing in the living room doorway. 'All right, everyone, keep calm. It's all under control,' he said.
Mum let out a scream as Julio, handcuffed to a young policeman, appeared in the hallway and was bundled out of the front door behind the detective.
I watched her as she collected herself and looked round the room, appraising the situation.
'Well, thank goodness I managed to calm Julio down,' she said gaily after a pause. 'What a to do! Are you all right, Daddy?'
'Your top – Mummy – is inside out,' said Dad.
I stared at the hideous scene, feeling as though my whole world was collapsing around my ears. Then I felt a strong hand on my arm.
'Come on,' said Mark Darcy.
'What?' I said.
'Don't say 'what', Bridget, say 'pardon,' hissed Mum.
'Mrs. Jones,' said Mark firmly. 'I am taking Bridget away to celebrate what is left of the Baby Jesus' birthday.'
I took a big breath and grasped Mark Darcy's proffered hand.
'Merry Christmas, everyone,' I said with a gracious smile.
'I expect we'll see you all at the Turkey Curry Buffet.'
This is what happened next:
Mark Darcy took me to Hintlesham Hall for champagne and late Christmas lunch, which was v.g. Particularly enjoyed freedom to pour gravy onto Christmas turkey for first time in life without having to take sides about it. Christmas without Mum and Una was a strange and wonderful thing. Was unexpectedly easy to talk to Mark Darcy, especially with Festive Julio Police Siege Scene to dissect.
It turns out Mark has spent quite lot of time in Portugal over the last month, in manner of heartwarming private detective. He told me he tracked Julio down to Funchal and found out quite a bit about where the funds were, but couldn't cajole, or threaten, Julio into returning anything.
'Think he might now, though,' he said, grinning. He's really v. sweet, Mark Darcy, as well as being rocky smart.
'How come he came back to England?'
'Well, sorry to use a cliche, but I discovered his Achilles' heel.'
'What?'
'Don't say 'what,' Bridget, say 'pardon,' he said, and I giggled. 'I realized that, although your mother is the most impossible woman in the world, Julio loves her. He really loves her.'
Bloody Mum, I thought. How come she gets to be the irresistible sex goddess? Maybe I should go to Color Me Beautiful after all.
'So what did you do?' I said, sitting on my hands to stop myself shouting 'What about me? me? Why doesn't anyone love me?'
'I simply told him that she was spending Christmas with your dad, and, I'm afraid, that they'd be sleeping in the same bed. I just had a feeling he was crazy enough, and stupid enough, to attempt to, er, undermine those plans.'
'How did you know?'
'A hunch. It kind of goes with the job.' God, he's cool.
'But it was so kind of you, taking time off work and everything. 'Why did you bother doing all this?'
'Bridget,' he said. 'Isn't it rather obvious?'
Oh my God.
When we got upstairs it turned out he had taken a suite. It was fantastic, v. posh and bloody good fun and we played with all the guest features and had more champagne and he told me all this stuff about how he loved me: the sort of stuff, to be honest, Daniel was always coming out with.
'Why didn't you ring me up before Christmas, then?' I said suspiciously. 'I left you two messages.'
'I didn't want to talk to you till I'd finished the job. And I didn't think you liked me much.'
'What?'.
'Well, you know. You stood me up because you were drying your hair? And the first time I met you I was wearing that stupid sweater and bumblebee socks from my aunt and behaved like a complete clod. I thought you thought I was the most frightful stiff.'
'Well, I did, a bit,' I said, 'But . . . '
'But what. . . ?'
'Don't you mean but pardon?'
Then he took the champagne glass out of my hand, kissed me, and said, 'Right, Bridget Jones, I'm going to give you pardon for,' picked me up in his arms, carried me off into the bedroom (which had a four-poster bed!) and did all manner of things which mean whenever I see a diamond-patterned V-neck sweater in future, I am going to spontaneously combust with shame.
Have finally realized the secret of happiness with men, and it is with deep regret, rage and an overwhelming sense of defeat that I have to put it in the words of an adulteress, criminal's accomplice and G-list celebrity:
'Don't say 'what,' say 'pardon,' darling, and do as your mother tells you.'
January – December
A Summary
Alcohol units 3836 (poor)
Cigarettes 5277
Calories 11,090,265 (repulsive)
Fat units 3457 (approx.) (hideous idea in every way)
Weight gained 5st 2lb
Weight lost 5st 3lb (excellent)
Correct lottery numbers 42 (v.g.)
Incorrect lottery numbers 387
Total Instants purchased 98
Total Instants winnings ?110
Total Instants profit ?12 (Yessss! Yessss! Have beaten system while supporting worthwhile causes in manner of benefactor)
1471 calls (quite a lot)
Valentines 1 (v.g.)
Christmas cards 33 (v.g.)
Hangover-free days 114 (v.g.)
Boyfriends 2 (but one only for six days so far)
Nice boyfriends 1
Number of New Year's Resolutions kept 1 (v.g.)
An excellent year's progress.