There were more footsteps and voices in the house. Then Mark reappeared.
He gave a half smile. "Sorry about that." Then he looked serious again. "You're going to be all right, Giles. You're in good hands here. The doctor'll be round in fifteen minutes but he said nothing to worry about."
"Are you OK?" he said to me.
I nodded.
"You're being great," he said. "A rather more attractive version of George Clooney. Will you stay with him till the doctor comes?"
When the doctor had finally sorted Giles out half the people seemed to have left. Rebecca was sitting tearfully in the baronial hall with her foot up, talking to Mark, and Shaz was standing at the front door, smoking a cigarette, with both our bags packed.
"It's just so inconsiderate," Rebecca was saying. "It's ruined the whole weekend! People should be strong and resolute, it's so ... self-indulgent and self-obsessed. Don't just say nothing, don't you think I'm right?"
"I think we should ... talk about it later," said Mark.
After Shaz and I had said our goodbyes and were putting our bags in the car, Mark came out to us.
"Well done," he barked. "Sorry. God, I sound like a sergeant major. The surroundings are getting to me. You were great, back there, with ... with ... well, with both of them."
"Mark!" Rebecca yelled. "I've dropped my walking stick."
"Fetch!" said Sharon.
For a split second a look of pure embarrassment flashed across Mark's face, then he recovered himself and said, "Well, nice to see you, girls, drive safely."
As we drove away, Shaz was giggling gleefully at the idea of Mark spending the rest of his life forced to run around after Rebecca, following her orders and fetching sticks like a puppy, but my mind was turning round and round the conversation I'd overheard behind the hedge.
10 Mars and Venus in the Dustbin
Monday 14 July
9st 4, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 12 (no longer priority), calories 3,752 (pre-diet), self-help books scheduled for dustbin 47.
8 a.m. In turmoil. Surely it cannot be that reading selfhelp books to improve my relationship has destroyed the whole relationship? Feel like entire life's work has been a failure. But if is one thing have learned from self-help books is how to let go of the past and move on.
About to be thrown out:
What Men Want
How Men Think and What They Feel
Why Men Feel They Want What They Think They Want
The Rules
Ignoring the Rules
Not Now, Honey, I'm Watching the Game
How to Seek and Find the Love You Want
How to Find the Love You Want Without Seeking It
How to Find You Want the Love You Didn't Seek
Happy To Be Single
How Not To Be Single
If Buddha Dated
If Mohammed Dated
If Jesus Dated Aphrodite The Famished Road by Ben Okri (not strictly self-help book, as far as know, but will never read the bloody thing anyway)
Right. All going in the bin plus the other thirty-two. Oh God, though. Cannot bear to throw out The Road Less Travelled and You Can Heal Your Life. Where else is one to turn for spiritual guidance to deal with problems of modern age if not self-help books? Also maybe should give to oxfam? But no. Must not ruin relationships of others, especially in Third World. Would be worse than behaviour of tobacco giants.
Problems
Hole in wall of flat.
Finances in negative position owing to second mortgage for hole in wall of flat.
Boyfriend going out with Other Woman.
Not speaking to joint best friend as is going on holiday with boyfriend and Other Woman.
Work crap but necessary owing to second mortgage for hole in wall of flat.
Badly need holiday owing to boyfriend/friends/hole in wall
of flat/professional and financial crises but no one to go on holiday with. Tom is going back to San Francisco. Magda and Jeremy are going to Tuscany with Mark and fucking Rebecca and probably jude and Vile Richard too for all I know. Shazzer being evasive presumably waiting to see if Simon will agree to go somewhere with her if sleep in twin beds (not under five foot), hoping he will get into hers.
Also no money to go on holiday owing to financial crisis owing to hole in wall of flat.
No. Am not going to weaken. Have been too swayed this way and that by everyone else's ideas. They are going. In. The. Bin. I am Going. To stand on. Own. Two. Feet.
8.30 a.m. Flat is purged of all self-help books. Feel empty and spiritually at sea. But surely some of information will have stayed in head?
Spiritual principles have garnered from self-help book study (non-dating based):
1. Importance of positive thought cf.: Emotional Intelligence, Emotional Confidence, The Road Less Travelled, How to Rid Your Thighs of Cellulite in 30 Days, Gospel according to St Luke, Ch. 13.
2. Importance of forgiveness.
3. Importance of going with flow and instincts rather than trying to squeeze everything into shape and organize everything.
4. Importance of confidence in self.
5. Importance of honesty.
6. Importance of enjoying present moment and not fantasizing or regretting things.
7. Importance of not being obsessed with self-help books.
So solution is to:
1. Think what a nice time am having writing lists of problems and spiritual solutions instead of planning ahead and ...
Gaaah! Gaaah! Is 8.45! Am going to miss morning meeting and not have time for cappuccino.
10 a.m. In work. Thank God have got cappuccino to help self through aftermath of hell of buying cappuccino when late. Is bizarre how cappuccino queue thing gives whole areas of London appearance of war- or communism-torn culture with people standing patiently in huge queues for hours as if waiting for bread in Sarajevo while others sweat, roasting and grinding, banging metal things full of gunge around, with steam hissing. Is odd when people generally show less and less willingness to wait for anything that should be prepared to do so for this one thing: as if in cruel modern world is only thing one can really trust and hold on to ... Gaaah!
10.30 a.m. Loos, work. Was Richard Finch bellowing at self. "Come on, Bridget. Don't be coy," the great lump roared in front of everyone, twitching and chewing in now-obvious post-cocaine-binge frenzy. "When are you going?"
"Er..." I said, hoping I could ask Patchouli, "Where?" later.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? It is literally unbelievable. When are you going on holiday? If you don't fill it in on the chart now you won't be going."
"Oh, um, yar," I said airily.
"No charto no departo."
"Sure, sure, yar, just need to check out the dates," I said clenching my teeth. As soon as the meeting was over, shot in here to loos for cheering cigarette. Does not matter if am only person in whole office not going on holiday. it does not. Does not mean am social outcast. Definitely. All is well in my world. Even if do have to do item on surrogacy, again.
6 p.m, Nightmare day trying to get women in to talk about quease-inducing egg-hatching permutations. Cannot face thought of going straight home to building site. Is gorgeous, soft sunny evening. Maybe will go for a walk on Hampstead Heath.
9 p.m. Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Just shows if you stop struggling to work everything out, and go with Flow in Zen-like positive way, solutions appear.
Was just walking along path towards the top of Hampstead Heath thinking how fantastic London is in the summer with people loosening their ties after work and spreading out shaggily in the sunshine when eye was caught by a happy-looking couple: she on her back with her head on his stomach, him smiling, and stroking her hair while he talked. Something about them looked familiar. As I got closer, I saw that it was Jude and Vile Richard.