Page 114 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘I’m fine,’ I repeated, fiddling with a forget-me-not. ‘Honestly. Just excited. About Easter.’
‘Yes, and normally that’s because you’re excited about chocolate,’ Mum said, pulling the vase away, and sliding the basket of mini eggs across the table towards me.
‘And bacon,’ added Dad, sadly.
Edwin came running into the kitchen, red-cheeked and asking for water, and Arrie sighed with irritation. ‘Roger, get him water.’
Roger stood up and dropped his newspaper on the floor. ‘Totally incompetent,’ Arrie muttered, watching him withundisguised disgust. ‘I told you to stay in the garden, Edwin,’ continued Arrie. ‘You’d better not be after more chocolate. You’ve got the manic look in your eye of someone who’s already exceeded their fair share.’
‘He’s just excited,’ I said, palming him extra chocolate as agreed. ‘Like his aunty.’ The twins never did tell their mum aboutJurassic Parkand I like to think we’ve reached a position of mutual respect.
‘Out!’ Arrie took his empty glass and shooed her progeny away.
I checked my watch again. Any minute now, Matthew would be here. I texted him yesterday to ask if we could talk. And, despite having spent near enough every minute since then planning what I’m going to say, I am still unprepared. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so unhungry in my life. I zoned in and out of Arrie’s conversation with Mum and Dad. They were talking about Astrid and Aziz and what the announcement could be. Dad was lugubrious and trying to prepare himself for bad news. He was midway through a four-part special on Radio 4:Grounds for Divorce.
‘The sad fact is,’ he said, ‘forty-two per cent of marriages in the UK end in divorce, and seven years is particularly high risk. The odds are stacked against them. Add to that the other life changes and you’re looking at a cataclysm.’
‘Astrid and Aziz are fine,’ snapped Arrie. ‘Their life is a bloody picnic. They don’t even have kids. Let’s face it, that’s the real problem. For fuck’s sake, Roger, could you sniff any louder?’
Roger looked affronted. ‘It’s all the flowers. They’re everywhere.’
‘Allergic to spring,’ said Arrie. ‘That’s what I’ve married… ’
And then the doorbell went.
‘I’ll get it,’ I said in a shrill voice, jumping up, and dashing out the kitchen.
I could hear vague snippets of my family’s concern, ‘very odd’ from Dad, ‘I didn’t think she understood what a doorbell was’ from Mum, and ‘she’s done full make-up and got dressed and it’s not even noon’ from Arrie, but I wasn’t really listening. I was on a mission. All I could think about was the person waiting for me on the other side of the front door. Matthew. Matthew. Matthew.
I took a second to prepare myself in the hallway; I don’t know if I’d ever felt this nervous before. It was even worse than the time I realised Belinda Howard had overheard me bragging that I’d shagged her stepdad.
‘Please,’ I asked the Universe. ‘Help me.’
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
‘Take your time, why don’t you?’ said Astrid, hopping from one foot to the other, then pushing past me rudely and rushing into the house.
‘She’s needed the loo since the flyover,’ said Aziz by way of apology, and giving me a quick squeeze hello.
‘But what about the house?’ said Mum. ‘How will you pay the mortgage? And you won’t have jobs to come home to!’
‘My partners are classing it as a sabbatical,’ said Astrid, looking a little embarrassed. ‘And being very generous interms of extending my salary. So the mortgage will tick over. I’ve told them not to but… ’
‘They don’t want to lose her,’ said Aziz.
‘And Aziz is just taking one month’s extra leave on top of the crazy long summer holiday he gets, plus he can do some remote teaching and therapy.’
‘Advantages to working at a university,’ agreed Aziz. ‘And being a therapist.’
‘Besides, it’s only four months,’ said Astrid.
‘For now,’ added Aziz.
I watched as Astrid reached across for Aziz’s hand, their fingers entwining whilst they both glanced at Mum and Dad.
‘Well, I think it’s fantastic.’ Dad wiped a tear from his eye. ‘What a marvellous thing to do.’
‘Are you serious?’ said Arrie. ‘It’s fucking mental.’
