Every Woman For Herself: This hilarious romantic comedy from the Sunday Times Bestseller is the perfect spring read. Trisha Ashley

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Every Woman For Herself: This hilarious romantic comedy from the Sunday Times Bestseller is the perfect spring read - Trisha  Ashley


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      TRISHA ASHLEY

       Every Woman For Herself

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       Dedication

       For my father, Alfred Wilson Long, with love.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Chapter 8: Dangerous to Melons

       Chapter 9: Nature in the Raw

       Chapter 10: Small Change

       Chapter 11: Parting

       Chapter 12: Jumbled

       Chapter 13: Jam Tomorrow

       Chapter 14: In Combat

       Chapter 15: Taken Out

       Chapter 16: Going Hairless

       Chapter 17: Surprised

       Chapter 18: Absolution

       Chapter 19: Nuts

       Chapter 20: Returns

       Chapter 21: Home Comforts

       Chapter 22: First Cuckoo

       Chapter 23: To the Bone

       Chapter 24: Strange New Powers

       Chapter 25: Much Travelled

       Chapter 26: Dazed and Confused

       Chapter 27: Present Magic

       Chapter 28: Snapdragon

       Recipes

       About the Author

       By the Same Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Foreword

      I’m delighted that Avon are reprinting Every Woman for Herself, because I have to admit it’s still my favourite literary child – and it’s obviously a favourite with readers, too, since not long ago they voted it one of the top three best romantic novels of the last fifty years, a great honour.

      I haven’t rewritten it, merely tweaked a couple of errors into shape, brushed its hair and made sure it had a clean handkerchief, so since it was first published by Piatkus in 2002, it’s obviously very much of its time. But then, think how relaxing it will be to visit a remote Yorkshire valley with no phone signal for miles and only a dodgy dial-up internet connection. The Brontë family managed quite well without them and I hope you will too.

      Happy reading, everyone!

      Trisha Ashley

       Chapter 1: Alien Husbandry: 2001

      Got up at the crack of dawn to kill the Fatted Breakfast before driving Matt to the airport, only to discover that aliens had stolen my husband during the night and substituted something incomprehensibly vile in his place.

      I expect their replicator was having a bad day. I distinctly remembered marrying a gentle, long-haired, poetry-spouting Jason King lookalike with a social conscience, but what was facing me over the breakfast table was a truculent middle-aged businessman, paunchy, greying, and flaunting a Frank Zappa moustache seemingly edged with egg yolk: but I knew better. The alien snot was the clincher.

      It was not a pretty sight, but fascinating for all that.

      I went to peer into the kitchen mirror to see if I’d changed as well: but no, I still looked like a miniature Morticia Addams.

      ‘Charlie,’ the Matt creature said impatiently, ‘did you hear what I said? About wanting a divorce?’

      I certainly had; what did he think had ripped the veils of delusion from my eyes? But I was temporarily deprived of speech as almost a quarter of a century of married life flashed before my eyes in Hogarthian vignettes: Flake’s Progress.

      The inner film came to a jerky halt. ‘Yes,’ I said finally, nodding. I understood.

      Unfortunately my memory was not of the selective kind, a cheery sundial remembering only the happy hours, so my recollections were freely punctuated with


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