No-One Ever Has Sex On A Tuesday: A Very Funny Romantic Novel
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Authors: Tracy Bloom
NO-ONE EVER HAS SEX ON A TUESDAY
by Tracy Bloom
Copyright
Published by Connects Books 2013
No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday © Tracy Bloom 2011
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical (including but not limited to: the internet, photocopying, recoding or by any information storage and retrieval system), without prior permission in writing from the author and/or publisher.
The moral right of Tracy Bloom as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and patents Act 1988.
For Bruce
As always my biggest and best cheerleader. I wouldn’t be here without you.
Table of Contents
Watch out for Tracy’s next book coming soon SINGLE WOMAN SEEKS REVENGE
There are those who get to choose the father of their child and those who don’t. Those who spend years sifting through the giant haystack that is the male population and those who get unexpectedly ambushed.
Katy never thought that she would be one of those who got ambushed. She certainly never thought that at thirty-six she would be pregnant, unmarried and with a boyfriend eight years younger than herself. A boyfriend who was now sitting beside her dressed in his football kit, as they drove off for their first antenatal class. She felt sick. She put this down to pre-class nerves and the fact that Ben had come straight from school, where he was a PE teacher, smelling unpleasantly of gym shoes, teenage-boy sweat and mashed potato. As she stared across at him she comforted herself with the knowledge that at least she could rely on him to offer up some well-thought-out words of wisdom to help calm her fears.
“So this guy at work says that all you do in these classes is talk about tits and fannies for two hours. How good is that?”
Katy continued to stare at Ben for a moment then sighed and put the car into gear.
“Please don’t say that,” she said wearily as they drove off.
“Say what?” asked Ben as he fiddled with every knob, switch and dial he could reach on Katy’s dashboard.
“Fannies,” said Katy, slapping his fingers.
“It’s better than a lot of other words for it,” said Ben. “I mean I could say…”
“No, no more words,” interrupted Katy “You know my Gran wouldn’t like it.”
“Why? Is she coming with us?” said Ben, pulling open the glove box and peering inside.
“Her name was Fanny, I’ve told you that before,” said Katy, starting to lose patience.
Ben turned to stare at Katy in complete admiration.
“You have never ever told me that. That’s exactly the sort of information that makes my life worthwhile and certainly not something I’d forget.”
“Really,” said Katy. She hesitated, wondering if she wanted to continue the conversation before realising that what she was about to say would probably make Ben’s day. “So I’ve never told you her surname either then?” she asked him.
Ben paused for a moment deep in thought until he erupted enthusiastically.
“Vagina. Must have been vagina,” he said, bouncing up and down. “Please tell me it was vagina and I will die a happy man.”
“Mycock actually,” said Katy more than a little triumphantly.
Ben stared at her again in shock, his mouth hanging open.
“You are kidding me,” he said finally. “Her parents called her Fanny with a surname like Mycock. Were they insane?”
“No stupid. Mycock was her married name. She wasn’t born a Mycock.”
“She was called Fanny and married Mr. Mycock?”
“Yes.”
Ben was quiet for some time before he declared solemnly, “Your Gran was a comedy genius.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey as Ben was fully occupied with texting or calling his friends to share the funniest name story of all time. He was still on the phone as she started to muster up the effort to get out of the car. She eased her swollen belly in the vague direction she wanted her body to go in, hoping the rest would follow. Looking down at the carefully chosen acre of magenta poly-cotton flowing in all directions over her lumps and bumps she hoped she looked like a woman in control of her pregnancy. But the memory of the lack of control that had landed her here in the first place led to the all too familiar sensation of a fist grasping tightly around her heart. She looked over her shoulder seeking Ben for some reassurance and caught sight of his knees for the first time which were decorated in school pitch mud.
“Your knees,” she exclaimed, pointing at the offending items.
“I’m not proposing now,” said Ben in mock anger.
She shook her head in despair, took a deep breath and set off towards the hospital entrance. She thought she’d pretty much nailed life until this. All the big boxes had been ticked. University, career, homeowner. Admittedly the marriage box had remained conspicuously empty, but that was exactly the way she wanted it. A truly traumatic experience with her first love as a teenager had left her heart never quite able to recover its full emotional capacity. Since then the slightest flutter of love had alerted her to heartbreak fast approaching, allowing her to lock down the situation quickly with a clean and swift break-up. She knew this approach had served her well over the years as she watched her friends suffer the humiliation of being dumped from a great height, over and over again.
She had lost count of how many times her friends had declared that they had met
the one
. It saddened her to know that approximately two weeks later they would be on her doorstep sobbing out a tragic but predictable tale of
the one
, clearly not thinking she was
the one
, by getting caught with another
one
. She would patiently pour the wine whilst they poured out their hearts until inevitably the night would end in drunken dancing and singing round her dining room table to boy band music. Then there would be an emotional love-in where they told her she was the best friend in the world. Finally in the early hours one of them would throw up over the balcony.
It amazed her that they couldn’t learn that if they put their heart out there for someone, they would be cast aside as carelessly as last season’s away kit as soon as the next piece of skirt passed by. These days, though, nights spent consoling the lovesick seemed to have dried up. One by one they had finally all found a man who appeared to want a relationship for longer than five minutes and had enjoyed the weddings they had always dreamed of.
She had, in her opinion, suffered two years of near mental torture as the cream invites lined up frighteningly quickly on her living room shelf. Her heart sank every time she picked up yet another painstakingly selected envelope, which no doubt had been chosen to match the bride’s knicker elastic, and tipped out the invitation, handmade by the future bride herself. She would close her eyes in despair as she read the words Miss Katy Chapman and Partner. Why oh why was it the law to go to weddings as a couple? Why couldn’t she just go on her own? Was there some terrible fear that single people at weddings were bound to run off with the bride or groom given half the chance? Was it one of the wedding vows? Thou shalt always have attached friends to prevent any possibility of straying. It made her dread the so-called happy events, forced as she was to find some random chap she had once had a drunken snog with, who in exchange for free food and alcohol could endure the steady stream of well-meaning relatives saying, “So will it be you next?”
Eventually she had decided enough was enough and that she should make a stand for all strong, independent women and stop pandering to the stereotype that happiness was attached to a man. When she was next invited to a wedding she made the genius decision to take Daniel from the Advertising Agency where she worked. The look on the face of Laura’s great aunt, who was making polite conversation during the wedding breakfast, was a joy to behold. Daniel sweetly told her that yes it could be him next as he had been seeing his boyfriend Rob for over six months now and neither of them were having sex with anyone else unless you counted the night he’d had sex with Stanley, his ex. However he didn’t think that counted as he had been very drunk at the time and Stanley had been dressed as a Navy Officer because it was at a fancy dress party and who could resist a man in uniform?
From that moment on Daniel had become her new best wedding partner.
Katy jumped when Ben caught hold of her hand as she walked through the doors of the hospital.
“So what do you reckon then?” he asked, spitting on his other hand and leaning over to try and wipe the mud off his knee as he trotted beside her.
“Sorry I was miles away. What did you say?” asked Katy.
“I said what do you reckon the other people in the class will be like?” said Ben.
“Oh they will all have read every book, know exactly what they are doing and ask really intelligent questions,” replied Katy feeling the panic rising again. She was painfully aware that up until now she had put her pregnancy firmly in the “deal with it later” file. It was clear that “later” had most definitely arrived.
“Mmmm,” said Ben, absorbing what Katy had said. “So you think we’ll be the trouble makers sitting on the back row while the swots hang on the teacher’s every word at the front?”
“Probably,” sighed Katy.
Ben glanced over to her.
“The back row always has more fun,” he said grinning.
She couldn’t help but grin back.
“You’re right,” she replied, feeling better. Ben knew exactly how to stop her taking life too seriously. That was what had first attracted her to him when they met on one of the worst nights of her entire life.
Katy knew that the night was a disaster waiting to happen the moment she caught sight of herself in the grimy mirrors of The Pink Coconut toilets last summer. Surrounded by the nubile bodies and fresh faces of the under-twenty-five-year-old clubbing set, she realised she looked utterly ridiculous dressed in a schoolgirl costume.
How on earth had it come to this, she thought angrily as she eyed her smeared fake freckles and tatty pigtails tied up with fuchsia pink ribbon. She’d accepted the drop in standards that was necessary to remain a part of the singles social scene after her friends got married, but it was totally unacceptable to have to plunge to these depths. Initially she had been horrified when one by one her friends began muttering the most depressing words any female can say when being asked on a girl’s night out.
“I’ll have to ask David.”
Or even worse…
“Only if Steve doesn’t mind.”
Or absolutely the worst of all…
“Only if Edward can come too.”
She had quite literally wanted to shake them with their pathetically apologetic faces. But rather than witness her friends’ descent into domestic hell, she had left them to it, seeing them only on special occasions when they exchanged awkward conversation as they drifted further and further apart.
Somewhat depressed at this change in her social life and finding herself with extra time on her hands, she had thrown herself into her career and scrabbled around for new buddies with no such ties. Eventually and with considerable effort she forced herself to learn to appreciate the company of some gym bunnies she had somehow fallen in with during a social event at her local
Fitness Forever
.
She was surprised to discover she could tolerate their perfect spray tanned bodies, their fresh as a daisy make-up after 90 minutes of Step and Thrust and even their incessant giggling every time one of the buff personal trainers came within ten yards of them. She suspected they only adopted her once they learnt she was an Account Director in advertising, assuming that she might one day invite them to audition for a shampoo commercial. Still, after a few Bombay Sapphires she could find them quite entertaining and certainly a step up from the utter degradation of being at home on a Saturday night.
That was, however, until things finally went too far. The gym bunnies had almost wet their gym knickers with excitement when their favourite nightclub had decided to do a school disco night. Katy had been dismayed but reluctantly agreed to go as it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility she might meet someone interesting, even if he did look like Billy Bunter.
