Free The Secret Life of a Slummy Mummy by Fiona Neill Page A

The only sticking point so far is that he thinks I should cut my hair into a “neat little bob”.’
    ‘That’s so disappointing,’ I say. ‘He doesn’t look the type.’
    ‘What does a man who likes women with neat little bobs look like?’ asks Tom with genuine curiosity.
    ‘Well, sartorially speaking he’s never left the eighties. He probably wears trousers in primary colours and brogues, even on a beach holiday,’ says Emma. ‘In the winter, he puts on those thick Norwegian jumpers with loud prints. He has a sensible job with a reliable salary and enjoys a round of golf at the weekend. He’s never done a line of coke. He reads the
Telegraph.
And he doesn’t like to talk dirty in bed, at least not to women.’
    ‘But that’s such a massive generalisation,’ says Tom.
    ‘No it’s not, it’s a truism,’ says Emma. ‘Does he want you to accessorise with a Labrador?’
    Tom strolls over and takes a look.
    ‘More likely a Reservoir Dog,’ he says enigmatically. ‘Write to him and ask if the name Mr Orange means anything to him,because the other sticking point is that’s not what he looks like. That’s not a west London solicitor, it’s the actor Tim Roth, and he lives in LA. The man who wants to date you is an impostor.’
    Cathy pauses, looks again at the photo, then says, ‘I’m dating a film star. I’m prepared to move to Hollywood if it all works out.’
    ‘What about schools?’ I ask.
    ‘We’ll live in Palo Alto, I’ll give up work and do home schooling.’
    ‘But that would be a nightmare,’ I say. ‘Especially if you decide to have another child.’
    ‘I think we need to rewind a little,’ says Tom. ‘For a start, Tim Roth is married.’
    ‘Don’t let that hold you back,’ says Emma. ‘Those forty-something men are like wild animals when released from the purdah of marriage. They want to do everything they haven’t done for the past ten years in less than a week.’
    Tom looks interested.
    ‘I thought we were off-bounds. Fellowship of women and all that. And what about this?’ he asks, patting his stomach so that it makes a hollow sound.
    ‘There are other compensations,’ says Emma knowingly. ‘You are generally at the peak of your professional success, and money and power are a powerful aphrodisiac. Also, you are more emotionally coherent than twenty-year-old men. And actually, as soon as you rediscover your old sex drive, the weight just peels off.’
    ‘Then I shall look at those attractive young single women in my office in a whole new light,’ says Tom.
    ‘Which attractive young single women?’ I ask.
    ‘You haven’t met them,’ he says. ‘But none of them couldcompete with you for excitement, unpredictability and all-round gorgeousness,’ and he comes over and puts his arm around my stomach. ‘Especially round gorgeousness.’
    ‘If he’s advertising on the Internet, then I think it’s fair to say he is up for grabs,’ says Cathy.
    ‘The point is that Tim Roth doesn’t need to do Internet dating. He probably has women throwing themselves at him the whole time,’ says Tom, losing patience, although I am the only one to pick up on the subtle change in tone.
    ‘But that’s like saying Hugh Grant didn’t need to pay for a blow-job on Sunset Boulevard,’ says Cathy.
    ‘Look, this man might be a west London solicitor but this is not what he looks like. At best you’ll be dating a five-foot-tall liar,’ says Tom. ‘At worst . . . well, you should definitely take someone with you in case it turns nasty. I’ll come if you like.’
    Cathy shrugs and says, ‘Back to the drawing board,’ in the kind of way that indicates the subject is closed for further discussion. Tim Roth shrinks, click by click, until he is just another face in the crowd.
    ‘Look, there’s another one,’ I say, pointing to another stamp in the top left-hand corner. ‘Snap.’
    Cathy enlarges the image and, sure enough, it is another man masquerading as Tim Roth, albeit