The Trials of Tiffany Trott Read Online Free PDF

know . . . whatsisname, the one who does something clever in computers?”
    “ Dead boring.”
    p. 24 “And what about that solicitor you told me you’d met at the tennis club? I’m sure you said he’d called you.”
    “Mummy—he’s got two heads.”
    “Oh. Well at least you can’t say that no one asks you out.”
    “Yes I can. Because those ones don’t count.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I’m not interested in them. In fact I’m not interested in men full stop. In any case I really don’t need a husband.”
    “Darling, don’t say that.”
    “No. I’m absolutely fine on my own.”
    “No you’re not. You’re miserable.”
    “Only because I’ve had the wrong attitude. The thing to do is to embrace aloneness. Take spinsterhood seriously.”
    “Darling, no one will take you seriously if you say things like that.”
    “No, honestly, Mum, I’ll be brilliant at it. I’ll really apply myself. I’ll get a cat and knit blankets for the Red Cross. I’ll develop a passion for cricket and crosswords—”
    “You don’t do crosswords, darling.”
    “I’ll learn. And I’ll man cake stalls at bring-and-buys. And I’ll selflessly babysit for all my friends. I’ll be the most professional spinster there’s ever been—I’ll probably pick up an award for it. Spinster of the Year—Tiffany Trott, brackets Miss, close brackets.”
    “Darling, I’m afraid this negative and unhelpful attitude won’t get you anywhere.”
    “I’m just being realistic.”
    “Nihilistic, darling.”
    “But I’m unlikely to meet anyone new.”
    “Don’t be silly, darling, of course you are.”
    “No I’m not. Because I read in the paper the other day that forty-five percent of us meet our partners through mutual friends and I’ve already met all my friends’ friends. And twenty-one percent of us meet them through work.”
    p. 25 “Darling, I do wish you could get a proper job again. All you do is sit on your own writing slogans all day.”
    “But Freelancers Have Freedom!”
    “Yes, but you’re not meeting any men. Except for Kit. Why didn’t you marry Kit, Tiffany?”
    “I don’t want to go through all that again, Mummy. Anyway, he loves Portia.”
    “Don’t your friends know anyone?”
    “No. And when I think about the men I have met through my set they’ve been disastrous—especially Phillip.”
    “Oh yes ,” she said meaningfully. Feckless, unfeeling Phil Anderer.
    “But men!” I spat. “Who needs them? Not me. Anyway,” I added, “I’m not going through all that grief again. No way. Forget it. No. Thank. You.”
    Two hours later, the phone rang. It was Lizzie. “Now listen to this, Tiffany,” she said, audibly rustling a newspaper. “Listen very carefully.”
    “OK. I’m listening.”
    She cleared her throat theatrically. “ ‘Tall, Athletic, Passionate, Propertied, Sensuous Academic, thirty-six, seeks Feminine Friend to share Laughter, Love and . . . Life?’ ” She managed to get a melodramatic, upward inflection into the final word.
    “Yes?” I said. “You read it very well. What about it?”
    “It’s a personal ad,” she explained.
    “I know.”
    “From the Telegraph .”
    “Good.”
    “In fact it’s a particularly appealing one, don’t you think?”
    “I suppose so.”
    “And you’re going to reply to it, aren’t you, Tiffany?”
    “Yes,” I said suddenly. “I am.”
     
    p. 26 I also said yes when Lizzie told me that she wanted me to go on a blind date with a colleague of Martin’s. Did I say no one ever introduces me to matrimonially minded males? Let me take it back right now!
    “He’s called Peter Fitz-Harrod,” she said, when she’d finished telling me about the Tall, Athletic Academic. “He’s in syndicated loans, whatever they are. I think he lends money to Mozambique. I met him at a company do last week,” she explained. “He’s forty-two, divorced, with two small children. He’s really quite good-looking,” she added, “and very