Page 18 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
Arrie and Roger exchanged a wide-eyed look. ‘No! Don’t open anything yet!’
‘Oh.’ Ernie was quiet for a moment, before yelling, ‘Can I have some wrapping paper then? And tape?’
‘I’ll go.’ Roger wearily downed the dregs of his coffee, and reluctantly began heaving himself more upright on thesofa. The problem with the sofa in the kitchen is that it sort of welcomes you to the extent where you can’t leave – a bit like Mum and Dad with Matthew. It’s so old and soft that you have to get physical purchase to exit. Unless you’re some kind of squatting abdominal powerhouse. Roger’s forehead developed more of a sheen. Arrie watched his efforts to free himself, her elbow on the table, chin resting on hand, face impassive.
‘We’ll all go through and join the boys – of course they’re excited,’ said Mum, reaching out a hand to help her eldest son-in-law. ‘Come on, Roger. Give it some welly.’
‘They’ve been excited since flipping September,’ said Roger, finally making it off the sofa.
‘Up since five.’ Arrie sighed. ‘Five.’
‘So of course you were too, darling,’ murmured Dad sympathetically.
‘Please no one mention dawn’s crack,’ I grumbled under my breath, ‘or I’m going back to bed.’
Astrid snorted, and got off the sofa with ease. Bloody show-off. I could see Roger was thinking the same thing.
‘Come on, Alice,’ she said, linking arms with me. ‘I think someone else needs her Christmas to start too. Maybe a present and a little glass of something cold and fizzy… ?’
‘Itmighthelp,’ I agreed.
‘Dad?’ said Astrid. ‘Can Aziz open a bottle of your finest? Alice here needs some Christmas champagne.’
That’s the thing about Astrid – she’s annoying and cross and mean so much of the time, but when she’s nice, she totally gets it right.
I hadn’t even set foot in the sitting room since I got backbecause of the rush for the wedding yesterday, but it looked just like it always did every year – decorated Mum-style.
‘Gosh.’ I eyed the slightly wonky pine tree which was lush and bushy at the top and pretty sad and threadbare lower down. ‘So you’ve gone top-heavy this year?’
‘Matches you,’ said Astrid, but as she handed me a glass of champagne at the same time, I let it go.
‘Isn’t it glorious?’ said Mum proudly.
‘That’s one way of describing it,’ Aziz answered politely. Goodness, he’s good at navigating my family.
‘And I got thirty per cent off. That’s why you wait until Christmas Eve!’
‘That’s whyyouwait until Christmas Eve,’ mumbled Arrie. She looked nostalgic. She was probably thinking of her own Christmas tree at home which would not have been discounted and would be decorated perfectly.
‘Alice – you’ll want a selfie with the tree, won’t you,’ continued Mum, ‘for all your posting things.’
‘Hmm,’ I said thoughtfully.
I looked at the tree again. I don’t know how Mum managed to arrange the lights quite so haphazardly that they ended up either bunched together or entirely absent. And it wasn’t just the usual mismatch of colours and ornaments this year…
‘What’s happened to the decorations?’ I asked.
‘We think they may have been sat on,’ said Mum. ‘And sadly a couple of them have been affected by the black mould.’
‘More than a couple,’ said Arrie.
‘Don’t you like the tree, girls?’ Mum sounded huffy. She took a similar stance to decorating as she did to gift giving. ‘Why aren’t you taking a photo, Alice?’ She rounded on me,her eyes narrowing. ‘You’ve got the glass of champers and the tree – what else do you need?’
Goodness, she’s aggressive. It’s probably because she’s pedigree, like Maud. ‘I might save the selfie in front of the tree until I’ve done my hair and stuff,’ I told her.
‘Great plan, Alice,’ said Aziz smoothly. ‘I can help you later. Let me top you up, Nell. And we can toast your tree-decorating.’
‘Thank you, Aziz.’ Mum graciously held out her glass, disarmed.
