[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
and, er, Rebecca has invited us and all the "gang" to her parents" house in Gloucestershire for a
house party next weekend. What do you think? I'll call you later."
Know exactly what I think. Think I would rather sit in a little hole in Mum and Dad's rockery
making friends with all the worms all weekend than go to Rebecca's house party and watch her
flirting with Mark. I mean why didn't she ring me up to invite us?
It's Mentionitis. It's just complete Mentionitis. There's no question about it. Telephone. Bet
it's Mark. What shall I say?
"Bridget, pick up, put it down, put it down. PUT IT DOWN."
I picked up confusedly. "Magda?"
"Oh Bridget! Hi How was the skiing?"
It was great but . . ." Told her the whole story about Rebecca and New York and the house party.
"I don't know whether I should go or not."
"Of course you've got to go, Bridge," said Magda. "If Mark wanted to go out with Rebecca he'd be
going out with Rebecca, just say - get off, get off, Harry get off the back of that chair now or
Mummy will smack. You're two very different kinds of people."
"Hmmm. You see, I think Jude and Shazzer would argue . . ."
Jeremy grabbed the phone. "Listen, Bridge, taking advice on dating from Jude and Shazzer is like
taking advice from a diet consultant who weighs twenty stone."
"Jeremy!" bellowed Magda. "He's just playing devil's advocate, Bridge. Ignore him. Every woman has
her aura. He's chosen you. Just go along, be gorgeous, and keep an eye on her. Nooo! Not on the
floor!"
She's right. Am going to be assured, receptive, responsive woman of substance and have a lovely
time emanating aura. Hurrahs Will just call Dad then go to football.
Midnight. Back in flat. Once out in freezing cold assured woman of substance evaporated into
insecurity. Had to walk past workmen working under bright lights on gas main. Was wearing v. short
coat and boots so braced myself to deal with lewd catcalls and embarrassing remarks then felt
complete arse when none came.
Reminded me of when was fifteen and walking along lonely backstreet into town and man started
following me then grabbed my arm. Turned to look at attacker in alarm. At time was v. thin in
tight jeans. Also, however, had winged spectacles and brace on teeth. Man took one look at my face
and ran off.
On arrival confided feelings re: workmen to Jude and Sharon. "That's the whole point, Bridget,"
Shazzer exploded. "These men are treating women as objects, as if our only function is physical
attractiveness."
"But they weren't," said Jude.
"That's exactly why the whole thing is so objectionable. Now come on, we're supposed to be
watching the match."
"Mmm. They've got lovely big thighs, haven't they?" said Jude.
"Mmmm," I agreed, distractedly wondering if Shaz would go mad if brought up Rebecca during the
match. "I knew someone who slept with a Turk once," said
Jude. "And he had a penis that was so enormous he couldn't sleep with anyone."
"What? I thought you said she slept with him," said Shazzer, keeping one eye on the television.
"She slept with him but she didn't do it," explained Jude.
"Because she couldn't because his thing was too big," I said supportively of Jude's anecdote.
"What a terrible thing. Do you think it goes by nationality? I mean do you think the Turks ... ?"
"Look, shut up," said Shazzer.
For a while we all fell silent, imagining the many penises tucked neatly into shorts and thinking
of all the games of many different nationalities in the past. Was just about to open my mouth, but
then Jude, who seemed to have become rather fixated for some reason, piped up, "It must be very
weird having a penis."
"Yes," I agreed, "very weird to have an active appendage. If I had one I would think about it all
the time."
"Well, yes, you'd worry about what it would do next," said Jude.
"Well, exactly," I agreed. "You might suddenly get a gigantic erection in the middle of a football
match."
"Oh for God's sake!" yelled Sharon.
"OK, keep your hair on," said Jude. "Bridge? Are you all right? You seem a bit down about
something."
I looked nervously at Shaz then decided this was too important to let lie. I cleared my throat for
attention and announced: "Rebecca rang Mark up and asked us on a mini-break this weekend."
WHAT?" Jude and Shaz exploded simultaneously. Was really glad the seriousness of the situation was
fully appreciated. Jude got up for the Milk Tray and Shaz fetched another bottle from the fridge.
"The thing is," Sharon was summing up, "we've known Rebecca for four years. Has she ever once in
all that time invited you, me or Jude on one of her posh house-party weekends?"
"No." I shook my head solemnly.
"But the thing is," said Jude, "if you don't go then what if he goes on his own? You can't let
Rebecca get him in her clutches. And also it's obviously important to someone in his position to
have someone who's a good social partner."
"Hgumph," snorted Shazzer. "That's just retrospective bollocks. If Bridget says she doesn't want
to go and he goes without her and he gets off with Rebecca then he's a second-rate charlatan and
not worth having. Social partner - pah. We're not in the 1950s now. She's not cleaning the house
all day in a pointy bra then entertaining his colleagues like some trophy Stepford wife. Tell him
you know Rebecca's after him and that's why you don't want to go."
"But then he'll be flattered," said Jude. "There's nothing a man finds more attractive than a
woman who is in love with him."
"Says who?" said Shaz.
"The baroness in The Sound of Music," said Jude, sheepishly.
Unfortunately, by the time we turned our attention back to it the game appeared to be over.
Next thing Mark rang.
"What happened?" he said excitedly.
"Um . . ." I said, gesturing wildly at Jude and Shazzer who looked completely blank.
"You did watch it, didn't you?"
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]