Page 69 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘I do have an affinity with nature.’ My voice was muffled against his coat. ‘I just have it from a safe distance.’
We stood there not moving for a second, then Matthew wrapped his arms around me and gave me a brief, hard hug, before stepping back, leaving me momentarily with a strange and unexpected empty feeling. Then he reached for my hand and took it in his. ‘I know,’ he said, striding off and bringing me with him, past the creepy horned creatures, which did, admittedly, scuttle away in a sheep-like fashion.
‘How do you know? I’ve always hidden it well.’ I’ve had to. My sisters absolutely love nature. Especially Arrie.
‘Hmm,’ said Matthew. ‘You used to make me piggyback you through the field down to the boat house in case you stepped in cow pats.’
That’s true.
‘And you cried when Arrie and Roger bought the farm.’
‘If you bloody know I don’t have a hands-on thing for nature, then why have you brought me to these moors? It’s horrible. And you promised it would be privileged. I don’t see how it’s privileged at all. It’s worse than Guide-camp.’
‘Cheer up,’ said Matthew, ‘Once you’re doing some whittling and digging an earth toilet, it’ll all feel much more homey.’
This is why Astrid and Matthew are best friends: they’re both sadists.
Just then, the curtains of cloud opened and a sliver of new moon momentarily peeked through, centre-sky, fleetinglytransforming the landscape of rolling hills and gorse into a luminescent sea of silver, stopping me in my tracks, before disappearing again.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That was… incredible.’
Matthew tugged me forward. ‘Dark skies. Perfect for moon gazing. It’ll be more incredible from up here.’
And I realised we had come to the base of some kind of wooden staircase. I tipped my head back to follow its progression and saw that it stretched up to a massive wooden platform and a bridge that extended all the way to the trees beyond. ‘What… is that?’
‘That,’ said Matthew, ‘is our treehouse.’
I lounged on the oversized curved sofa, my head resting against a fur throw, luxuriating in the warmth cast out by the blazing wood-burning stove in the middle of the room. I took another sip of the ice-cold champagne, and noticed how the rich, polished grain of the wooden floor, walls and ceiling gleamed in the fire-light. Treetops stretched beyond the window and above them a smattering of stars were perfect pinpricks in a black sky. For a second I closed my eyes and basked in the gentle hiss from the stove, the whisper of wind in the branches outside and the sound of my breath.
‘Hey,’ said Matthew, coming back from the kitchen area. ‘Don’t go to sleep. We haven’t done the manifesting yet.’
‘Mmm,’ I said.
‘Wake up, Alice,’ said Matthew. ‘We need to get out there and do what we came to do.’
‘I’m not asleep.’ I opened one eye lazily to prove it.
Matthew loomed above me, his arms folded across his chest, looking even broader than usual against the glow of the fire. His skin was burnished and shimmering, like the wood, the contours of his face and body sculpted by the flickering shadows, and for a second he appeared almost otherworldly.
‘Come and sit down with me.’ I patted the sofa, and squinted up at him. ‘It’s so comfortable here. We can have more champagne. And then do the manifesting in a bit.’
He gave me a slow smile and something in my stomach snapped and went free-falling into a bottomless crater.
‘If I didn’t know you better,’ he said, looking down at me, ‘I’d think you were trying to get out of manifesting with Capricorn. I’d think you just wanted to hang out in a treehouse and enjoy the trappings of wealth. With me.’
‘No, no,’ I said, looking up at him and not moving. ‘You know I love the outdoors. I’m only here for the manifesting.’
Matthew chuckled. ‘You really don’t want to go outside at all, do you?’
‘This is the nicest place I’ve ever been,’ I admitted. It really was. And even more amazing after that horrific approach. ‘Don’t make me leave it.’
‘Get up,’ said Matthew, shaking his head. ‘Time to go out to the deck.’
So, it emerged that whilst I thought the inside of the treehouse was the best place I’d ever been, the outside deck might have beaten it by a hair’s breadth.
It was just as beautifully put-together as inside, with lavish sofas, sumptuous fur throws piled everywhere, and perfectly placed fire pits, which spat and sizzled and warmed, seamlessly designed for intimacy, luxury and comfort, and maximum enjoyment of location. There was even a free-standing copper bath with heated towels awaiting. But unlike inside, here you could reach out and touch the neighbouring trees, and see for miles.
Matthew and I were lying, side by side, on the enormous day bed, and despite being outside in January, I wasn’t freezing.
