Page 57 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
In other news, I went back to H&M during my lunch hour and got the silver sequinned trousers and the boots (courtesy of the money left over from pizza). Guy was only in the office for an hour this morning so I didn’t get to see him, although he got to see Charlotte. We all did. It was her last day before leaving for Glasgow and she pulled out all the stops to make sure we remembered her. She turned up in gym gear – sports bra, abs on full display, tiny shorts, etc., waited until Guy was facing the right direction, and proceeded to pack up her desk (couple of Post-its and a lipstick) in the sort of protracted and choreographed way that could have provided a decent opening to a soft porno. Even Drunk Stephen said he felt quite turned on by the whole show, so unless Guy Carmichael is impervious, he’ll have surely thought about what he’s missing. Everyone was talking about how he put his blinds down before she’d finished packing and how much that must have stung, but I noticed how long he kept his blinds open for. And I noticed that he still hasn’t made good on asking me out for lunch.
But then I quickly replaced the self-limiting negative talk with some positive actions, like a bona fide manifester. Hence the H&M purchases.
Ready for when Guy Carmichael asks me on my date.
Which he will do.
I ask the Universe:
To make Astrid’s mood a bit less shit tomorrow because it’s Saturday and I can’t really afford to go out, so I’m stuck here.
Date: Saturday 14 JanuaryTime: 10.15am
My thoughts and reflections:
So, not one to complain and obviously I have every confidence in the Universe’s decisions as well as unstinting gratitude and this is not me in any way, shape or form questioning her infinite wisdom, but I have to confess I was slightly surprised this morning when, after being confronted with Matthew Lloyd’s face in the centre of my visioning board upon waking, I went downstairs only to find the real Matthew Lloyd actually in the kitchen.
Looking very pleased with himself.
To be completely clear, that wasnotwhat I was trying to manifest.
He and Astrid were sitting opposite one another, drinking coffee companionably, the papers spread out in front of them, deep in conversation; he looked totally at home and, frankly, they could have passed for some kind of advert-perfect couple. There was a swordblade of sunlight slanting straight through the enormous roof light and illuminating the side of Matthew’s face, making his skin dazzle like he had been chosen. When he bent his dark head closer to hers to see whatever she was pointing out in the newspaper, I felt a stab of something sharp lodge in my side. Astrid noticed me first.
‘Hey, Alice,’ she said. ‘Do you want a croissant? Matthew went out and bought them from Laurents.’
Of course I wanted a croissant. They looked like buttery, flaky deliciousness. But it seemed wrong to take one. Clearly it was him I had heard late last night, not Aziz. So I said crossly, ‘No, I don’t. You know I’m Paleo.’
Astrid squinted at me through her hair, which had fallen over her eye. ‘You had pizza the other night. And doughnuts?’
‘It was a break-out day. Why is your hair down? You never have it down.’ She always wears her hair back unless she’s going out. Was this some kind of bid for sexy?
‘I don’t know,’ said Astrid. ‘And why are you asking like that? You’re being weird.’
‘You’rebeing weird actually. Sitting here with your hair down, having breakfast with him. What’s he even doing here?’
‘Heis staying here.’ Astrid tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘Morning, Alice,’ said Matthew, without looking up. ‘Lovely to see you too.’
I didn’t look at him either. Self-satisfied giant. ‘Staying here?’ I said, appalled. ‘Why?’
‘Because I said he could,’ said Astrid. ‘He’s got loads of meetings in London this week.’
‘Thisweek?!’
‘Yes. Problem?’
She gave me a cold stare, indicating that there had better not be a problem and that I was starting to piss her off.
‘No, no,’ I said, going over to switch on the Fisher & Paykel bean-to-cup coffee machine (absolutely gorgeous and I got loads of likes when I shared some photos of my morningcoffee routine last week, not that I’ll ever be able to afford my own one). ‘I just thought Matthew would have preferred a hotel, what with his hotel hobby, that’s all. And everyone loves a hotel breakfast.’
‘Yeah, well, we’ve got croissants here,’ said Astrid, defensively. ‘And coffee. You don’t mind, do you, Matthew?’
Matthew shook his head. ‘Great service so far. Croissants are good. I’m happy.’
I set my cereal bowl on the side a little too loudly. ‘Shouldn’t you be eating croissants with Etta instead of Astrid?’
‘What is up with you this morning, Alice?’ said Astrid, frowning. ‘Let’s not descend to retrograde misogyny – you know her name.’
