No-One Ever Has Sex On A Tuesday: A Very Funny Romantic Novel (27 page)

I'd like to thank my agent, Araminta Whitley, for believing in me and growing my confidence to continue to aim high. I would also like to mention Joanna Swainson and Madeleine Milburn who first spotted the potential in this book and sold the rights to several international publishers. You set me off on this journey so thank you.

Chris, Lee, Lucy and Guy at The One Off, who went above and beyond to design the cover for this book and take a picture of me that I actually like. True miracle workers. Thank you.

Finally I’d like to thank my family. Mickey-takers of the highest order who taught me that humour is always the answer. Jim, June, Andrew and Helen, you always make me laugh.

And last but not least, Fanny. Hope you don’t mind me taking your name in vain
yet again
.

About the Author

Tracy Bloom started writing when her cruel, heartless husband ripped her away from her dream job shopping for rollercoasters for the UK’s leading theme parks, to live in America with a brand new baby and no mates. In a cunning plan to avoid domestic duties and people who didn’t understand her Derbyshire accent, she wrote NO-ONE EVER HAS SEX ON A TUESDAY. It went on to be successfully published internationally so now she is chuffed to bits to have a new dream job, making people laugh and sometimes cry through her writing. Back in good old England now and cracking on with writing about other people who screw up their lives in a hilarious fashion including a sequel, NO-ONE EVER HAS SEX AFTER A BABY.

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Watch out for Tracy’s next book coming soon

SINGLE WOMAN SEEKS REVENGE

Meet Suzy, a 36-year-old advice columnist for a local paper. When yet another relationship ends badly she sets about getting revenge on every man who ever broke her heart in ways you never dreamed possible.

Chapter One

Dear Suzie

I have never written to an agony aunt before but there is no-one else I can talk to about this. You see my husband left six months ago for someone ten years younger than me who he met at a spinning class. Completely devastated, I turned to food for comfort and quickly gained twenty pounds. Then out of the blue a couple of weeks ago he turned up on the doorstep saying he was ready to come home on one condition, that I become more adventurous in bed. He left me with a list of what he had in mind, much of which included certain S&M practices that I had to research on the internet to even understand what they were. I love him so much and I am desperate to have him back but they don’t do the PVC outfit he is suggesting in a size 18. What should I do?

Yours desperately

Trish

Dear Trish

Buy the PVC outfit in a size 10 along with some handcuffs and a blow torch. Call your husband and tell him you will comply with all his demands and you want him to come over straight away. When he arrives, tell him that you have one condition, he must wear the PVC outfit and then you will do whatever he wants. When he has got it on, handcuff him to the bed then whip out the blow torch, turn the gas to maximum and ask him what parts of his anatomy he wants burnt off first. Then tell the lowlife never ever to bother you again – you stupid, stupid, stupid…

Suzie didn’t realize she was banging her head against the computer screen muttering the word stupid, over and over again until Drew gently took hold of her shoulders and pulled her back until she was sitting upright.

“Control, alt, delete normally works better than head-butting,” he said as he sat down at his desk next to her and started flicking the switches necessary for him to be able to start his working day.

Suzie was vaguely aware that her breathing was laboured and she was gripping the edge of the desk very hard. Oddly the office of the Manchester Herald newspaper appeared to be humming normally around her despite the fact that she felt anything but normal. She was a Jenga stack on the brink of collapse just waiting for someone to take out the wrong block.

“You okay?” asked Drew, interrupting the ferocious tapping on his keyboard and peering round to look at her stricken face.

Block extracted. Concern shown by colleague. Collapse imminent.

“Why?” she growled, trying desperately to contain her volume when all she felt like doing was screaming. “Why am I writing this stupid, bloody agony column?”

“Er, because you suggested it?” replied Drew.

“I know I bloody suggested it,” she said, her face starting to flame up. “But I didn’t mean it. It was a joke,” she said through gritted teeth. “If Gareth thinks that this is going to bring back our female readers he’s an idiot and he’s even more of an idiot for asking me to do it.”

“But you have such experience in relationships,” drawled Drew.

She turned to face him wondering what on earth made him think that sarcasm would be appropriate in this conversation.

“Really,” she said. “So that’s why at the grand old age of thirty six I’m alone again is it?” Suzie grasped one of the several toy trolls lined up on her desk and began pulling violently at its electric blue hair.

“What’s happened this time?” asked Drew with a sigh. He turned towards her and assumed the position. A way too familiar sight during the last five years that he had occupied the desk next to her, always in the direct firing line of her relationship traumas. Arms crossed he painted his best you’re-an-idiot-for-putting-up-with-all-this-bullshit look on his face before he glanced down to check his watch. She knew she didn’t have long until he pointed out that he had a deadline to meet so she quickly picked up her phone in order to present him with the facts.

“I got this text from Alex ten minutes after he left my flat this morning,” she told him as she thrust the phone in his hand.

SORRY SUZE BUT THIS ISN’T WORKING OUT FOR ME. LET’S CALL IT A DAY WHILST WE CAN STILL BE FRIENDS AND IT DOESN’T GET AWKWARD AT WORK. ALEX XX

“Oh dear,” said Drew not looking the slightest bit surprised or sympathetic.

“And…and…” continued Suzie fighting off hot tears. “We had sex before he left.”

There was an awkward pause as Drew took in the depth of information provided. Finally he muttered under his breath, “Bastard.” Then he sighed, unfolded his arms and put his hands on his knees. “You can do so much better than him,” he offered. “Just forget about Alex and have patience that someone better will come along.”

“I’m thirty six Drew. I don’t need patience, I need Botox,” replied Suzie, successfully managing to pull a chunk of blue hair out of the trolls head. “And it’s all very well for you to say when you’re engaged to the love of your life and not walking around with TWAT MAGNET tattooed on your forehead like I am.” She threw the tortured troll to the floor in fury.

Drew started to speak but she had things to get off her chest that would wait for no-one.

“I’ve had enough,” she interrupted grabbing another troll off her desk, this one dressed in a football kit. “Look at this,” she said holding it up for Drew to see. “My first ever true love bought me this when we were fifteen, then he dumped me in front of all his mates and told me I was boring.” She let go of the troll and watched it bounce twice on the desk before it fell to the floor careering off the partially bald, blue haired troll loitering next to the rubbish bin. “And as for this one,” she said holding up yet another troll, this time with bright yellow hair. “This one I found in bed with one of my best friends after we’d been together for ten years.” She dispensed with the desk this time and sent it straight into free-fall to join the sorry looking duo on the floor. “And this one,” she continued holding aloft a Spanish, guitar-playing troll. “Well, let’s just say his life was a lot more complicated than he led me to believe,” she trailed off unable to look Drew in the eye. Amigo troll landed head first on top of footie troll and stayed there as if they were practicing position of the fortnight.

“Those trolls are for every boyfriend you’ve ever had?” asked Drew. “And I thought you just had terrible taste in executive toys.”

“They’re not for every boyfriend I ever had,” she protested.

Drew raised his eyebrows.

“Just the ones I fell in love with.” She bit down hard on her lip willing her eyes not to spill.

They both stared at her broken-heart graveyard grinning gormlessly back up at them from their bed of dull green nylon carpet.

“Why?” asked Drew shaking his head in disbelief.

Suzie knew there were no words that could convince the all too rational Drew that her kooky collection was anywhere near sane. She sighed and felt her whole body sag as she resigned herself to the fact that she was about to sound exactly like the desperate middle-aged woman she was fast becoming. “Because I need something to remind me after twenty long years of dating that there have been at least some moments of love in my life,” she said.

Drew stared back at her and she braced herself for an onslaught of meaningless sympathy. She should have known better.

“But you just said what twats they all were to you, to quote you in your own words Suzie.”

She looked back down at the troll pile-up on the floor. She’d read in a magazine somewhere that she should be positive about her past significant relationships. She should remember the good times and learn from the bad. Maybe it was time to see them for what they really were. A horrifying reminder of the men who’d carved her romantic history into the disaster it was, leaving her fast approaching forty and doomed to a barren spinsterhood.

Between them they had ruined her one and only love-life.

“Bastards,” she said giving them a half-hearted kick with one of her deadly black stilettos, part of the man-trap uniform she was forced to continue to wear given her ongoing unmarried status.

“Oh for god’s sake,” said Drew, his patience all used up. “You can do better than that. If they were all standing in front of you now, what would you do?”

If they were actually all here now? In the flesh? She flinched at the thought. Memories of horrific mourning periods came flooding back. Hours spent trying to work out where it had all gone wrong. Desperate attempts to get them back usually during lonely taxi rides home at the end of fruitless Saturday nights out when she was powerless to stop her fingers sending drunken, shamelessly begging texts. All attempts were ignored of course which stirred up the misery until it escalated into fury, and dreams of retaliation and revenge for what they had put her through. A wave of regret threatened her with either sorrow or anger. She chose anger.

“I’d want to make them suffer like they made me suffer,” she spat out, hands clenched around her chair arms. “Like I should have done at the time. Too late now.” Everything was too late recently. Ever since she’d decided she was on the fast track to forty it was too late to get married, too late to have kids and too late to make a career change and extract herself from the slow and painful death of local newspaper journalism. Fatally she’d started to look back and consider how she’d arrived at this point in her life. Unmarried, no kids and writing a ridiculous agony column for a local rag. If only she could go back and do things differently. Too bloody late now.

“Not too late for Alex though,” said Drew interrupting her thoughts. “I’ve heard it time and time again. You let them get away with treating you like nothing Suzie. For once just tell him exactly what you think of him and move on. Then ditch this ridiculous troll thing.”

Susie stared at him for a moment before she picked up the partially bald blue-haired troll.

“You’re right,” she said finally looking back at Drew. “He can’t get away with treating me like that. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Now that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all morning,” said Drew.

“I’ll text him,” she said picking up her phone. “What should I put?”

“Don’t text him,” said Drew grabbing the phone back. “Confront him. Call him a dickhead to his face for goodness’ sake. It makes you as bad as him, just texting him.”

“Okay,” said Suzie. Icy nerves threatened the bravado she’d built up only moments earlier. “I’ll tell him to his face. Of course I will.”

“Good,” said Drew. “As soon as he comes in. No running off to cry in the toilets as soon as you see him.”

“Of course not,” replied Suzie trying to sound more sure than she felt. “As soon as I see him I’ll give it to him straight.”

“Excellent,” said Drew turning back to face his computer his hands poised over the keyboard ready for action. “Now I’ve got to inject some enthusiasm into a story about our rubbish bin service in Manchester. I suggest you find something equally exciting to focus on.” With that he began furiously typing, relationship consultation clearly over.

By 3pm Alex had failed to appear no doubt out schmoozing potential advertisers in an excuse to buy lunch on expenses. Suzie had spent the day nervously glancing at the corridor behind her, see-sawing between desperation to see Alex and dread at how she would react. She tried to focus on finishing her agony column which was due in that afternoon but couldn’t seem to summon up the words to soothe the downhearted when she was in such a state. She had just started reading the angry reply she’d written that morning to Trish’s problem when Drew tapped her on the shoulder.

“You’re on,” he said, nodding over her shoulder.

“What?” she shrieked, knowing instantly that Alex must have finally arrived. The colour drained from her face. She sat frozen, unable to look round, staring nervously at Drew as a familiar jaunty whistle came floating across the office. When Drew nudged her arm she forced herself to turn her head slowly in the direction of the corridor. Alex was striding at a confident speed wearing an immaculate navy suit, the very expensive shirt and tie she’d bought him for his birthday and wafting an all too familiar smell of heady aftershave. He immediately caught Suzie staring at him. He flicked her a casual wave and walked straight past her in the direction of the meeting room.