Page 49 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
A handwritten note from Mrs Tristan Cavendish herself tumbled out along with the rigid, grandiose invitation.
Darling, your mother mentioned you were between digs so I thought I’d send this to your work – if you’re still there, LOL. Such a shame not to catch up at the wedding but I could see you were finding it hard, poor thing. Have you heard the wonderful news? Minty’s expecting! Do RSVP this time – what are you like! – and we completely understand if it’s too much for you. Lots and lots of love, Penelope x
She’s ghastly. How can one envelope contain so many knives? Astrid’s always said Penelope is insufferable and she’s right. Now Penelope reallyisa twat, unlike Astrid, and I feel I should state, for the record, that I didn’t really mean what I wrote about Astrid last night. (In fact I got her a bottle of wine when I was at the Tesco Metro earlier, just as a little apology; it was only £5 in the bargain bin because it didn’t have a label.) Whereas Penelope – she invokes long-lasting feelings of dislike. And Minty! Well,that explains the 24thDecember wedding. And why she didn’t touch the blue cheese.
I propped the invitation up on Yaz’s desk so it wouldn’t gloat quite so directly in my face, but I was feeling sort of hot and uncomfortable so I knew it had affected the air. I took action by saying a couple of affirmations, and got the basil out of the bag and was fumbling around with the matches, when Cara caught me, mid–‘I breathe in peace; I breathe out peace’. And here’s my next lucky-girl moment because instead of Cara being her usual disagreeable self, she just put her hand on my arm and said that she personally found the affirmation ‘I am a beacon of love and joy’ really helpful. She recommended not lighting a match because it would set off the automatic fire sprinklers, plus basil wouldn’t work as it’s too damp. Then she told me she believed in me and so did the Goddess and that my day would be filled with abundance and harmony.
Who would have thought it?!
Even better, when I bumped into her again later, in the loos, and quickly put my make-up away because it was nearly time for the 11.45 catch-up and we both knew it, she scanned my face and said, ‘I don’t really need to see you today.’ She told me to go to Selfridges and get my make-up done and remind myself that self-love starts with self-care.
I didn’t need telling twice.
And now, here’s the second best bit. After an amazing hour spent eating sushi and having my make-up done by the Chanel girl at Selfridges, I was so buoyant that waiting to get swiped in by Lydia didn’t faze me at all. I just watched her eat her massive baguette, and slowly repeated affirmations in my head.I surround myself with positive energy. I surroundmyself with positive energy.And I did. Because then… Then, Guy Carmichael appeared behind me. Can’t get much more positive than that!
‘What’s the hold-up?’ he asked.
Even his voice was magnetic: I could feel the underwires in my bra vibrate in response.
I said, ‘My card’s playing up today.’
Lydia put down her baguette and swallowed her mouthful.
‘Damned pain these new cards,’ he said. ‘Come through on mine. Lydia can sort it out on her computer later.’
And he stood back and ushered me through – it’s probably the closest I’ve come to him and his scent was intoxicating, sort of musk and cedar and a hint of citrus and power, and like he’d be commanding and unrelenting in bed.
‘Thanks,’ I said to Guy, pleased to notice that a fair bit of filling had dropped out of Lydia’s baguette when she set it down. Serves her right.
‘Pleasure’s mine,’ he said, then he looked at me again. ‘Nice lipstick.’
‘It’s Chanel.’
He nodded. ‘Have a good afternoon, Alison.’
I didn’t care that he called me Alison, or that Lydia gave me a triumphant glare because I could sense that the Universe was working hard for me. And I was right. I’ve saved the best bit for last…
That afternoon, whilst I was sitting at my desk drumming my fingers and putting off replying to emails, Guy Carmichael walked by and… paused. I nearly stopped breathing. He was staring at something on Yaz’s desk. Then he picked up my invitation and started reading it. I panicked.
‘Er, sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m between addresses so it got sent here to work. I’ll take it home tonight.’
Guy Carmichael looked back at me.
‘This is yours?’ he said, his attention turned fully towards me.
‘Yes,’ I babbled on, trying not to salivate at his proximity. ‘There’s always someone back home getting married or producing babies.’
‘You’re from Little Minchcombe, are you?’
‘For my sins!’ I joked. ‘Not inbred though.’
Oh god.Whydid I say that?
‘Interesting,’ he said, perching on my desk. ‘I’ve just been reading about it.’
Fuck. Guy Carmichael was sitting on my desk.
‘Small place, is it?’ he asked. ‘Everyone know everybody else?’
