Date Monday 26 December Time 11.30pm #3
‘I’m open-minded,’ said Matthew mildly. ‘And what do you mean, stuck in the past?’
‘Well, you’re mentioning people from primary school, and you’ve bought the hotel in the village you grew up in. Still coming round to ours on Boxing Day. It’s not exactly branching out, is it? Moving on?’
Matthew surveyed me and then nodded slowly.
‘What is your problem with Matthew, Alice?’ said Astrid. ‘Is this because Mum and Dad suggested you ask him if he could find you a proper job when you lose yours?’
‘I’m not definitely losing my job and it is proper!’ I snapped. ‘You people don’t understand creativity! And I’m not the one with the problem! Matthew is.’
‘I do have a problem with stuff like that journal,’ said Matthew. ‘I don’t like exploitation.’
‘How is The Guide exploitative?’
‘How much did it cost?’ Matthew asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Obviously I did. ‘It was a gift.’ If I’d hoped that would put him in his place, I was sorely mistaken.
‘Well, it’s just a notebook essentially – they likely have a ninety per cent plus profit margin on this. I saw that trademark on the front. Bet it’s littered with them. Somebody is making a lot of money out of vulnerable people like you.’
‘Says the man who charges ￡6 per coffee in his pretentious hotel. Which is a sideline. And what do you mean vulnerable? I’m not vulnerable.’
‘Okay,’ said Matthew. ‘Fine. You’re not vulnerable. But you have spent a load of money on a promise. Only certain people are going to be open to buying magic beans, right? You don’t see me or Astrid or Aziz “manifesting” relationships or jobs, do you?’
‘No, genius, because you’ve already got them – you don’t need to.’
Matthew raised his eyebrow slightly. ‘Indeed. But perhaps vulnerable people might need them, or feel that they do. And luckily, The Guide can help! Does sound a bit like magic beans?’
Tosser.
Aziz winced like he was feeling sorry for me.
‘It’s not magic beans,’ I said. ‘Manifesting. It works actually.’
‘If you say so.’ Matthew smiled smugly. ‘Whatever you feel the need to believe in for you, Alice.’
I would give anything, anything to wipe that smile off his face.
‘I feel for you,’ I said. ‘That you find it hard to open your mind.’
‘I am open minded,’ said Matthew. ‘I just know you’re wrong.’
‘And what if I’m right?’
‘Then I’d be delighted.’
Liar. He can’t lose at Scrabble. He can’t lose at anything.
‘Tell you what,’ Matthew said. ‘How about you prove it to me?’
‘Fine. I will. And you’ll have to admit you’re wrong.’
‘No, Alice,’ said Astrid, sighing. ‘You’ll have to admit he’s right. You can’t manifest things. It’s nonsense.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘Okay,’ said Matthew, ‘so manifest a car.’
Jesus. I was thinking of something less concrete. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Thought not,’ said Matthew. ‘Bit too real, isn’t it? And expensive. Because you can’t manifest.’
‘I could. But I’d have to want to. I don’t want a car.’
‘How about our old house then,’ said Astrid. ‘We all know how much you want that. And it’s for sale.’
FFS. Why would Astrid do that to me? Doesn’t she take down enough people in court?
I look at them all, open-mouthed. Then I look at the house.
Of course I want it. I can imagine myself in the kitchen right now, standing at the sink and looking out on the lawns at the back.
I can imagine wandering into the huge sitting room with its triple aspect windows, a fire in the enormous grate, a splendid tree stretching up to the ceiling.
Matthew bit his lip. ‘Let’s just leave this argument now, shall we?’
‘Yes,’ said Astrid. ‘I’m cold and I want a coffee. Give it up, Alice. You know you’re losing this.’
‘You should listen to your big sister.’ Matthew patted me on the shoulder.
Oh god, I hate him so much. There has to be a way round this.
‘Fine. I’ll manifest our old house.’
Matthew gave me a hard stare. ‘You’ll manifest that house?’
‘She can’t manifest a house,’ said Astrid. ‘This is asinine.’
‘Yes, I can,’ I said. ‘I will have that house. I manifest having that house.’
‘Great,’ said Matthew. ‘Shall we pop in now?’
‘It doesn’t work like that. It will take me time. But I will live in that house. I will spend next Christmas in that house. And you will have to admit you’re wrong.’
‘You really want to do this?’ said Matthew, his eyes gleaming.
‘Alice,’ warned Aziz.
‘Absolutely.’ I ignored Aziz and stared straight back at Matthew. ‘I can’t wait to hear you admit you were wrong.’
Matthew slowly smiled that smug smile.
‘If you’re living in that house by next Christmas,’ said Matthew, ‘not only will I admit I’m wrong, but I will give you that painting by your favourite artist. By way of an acknowledgement. What’s her name again?’
Fuck, fuck, Alice. Remember. I watched him watch me panicking and saw his smile grow.
‘Yayoi Kusama!’ I said triumphantly. ‘And only if you’re sure you want to part with it?’
‘Can’t wait,’ said Matthew. ‘So. You genuinely believe you’re going to manifest that house?’ He extended his hand and waited.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more determined.
‘Absolutely,’ I said without blinking.
His smile got wider.
I would do anything, anything to wipe that smile off his face.
As much as I didn’t want to touch him, I put my hand in his. His grip was firm and strong and powerful and we both knew that he knew he had me. I was going to lose.
The tosser’s smile didn’t waver. Instead, he pulled me closer towards him so that his breath fleetingly brushed my ear, making me shiver. ‘I always win, Alice,’ he said, then turned back towards Astrid and Aziz, like I didn’t even exist. ‘Shall we?’
‘About time,’ said Astrid. ‘Let’s get inside; I’m freezing.’
‘I could use another of those espressos, Matthew,’ said Aziz.
As they walked into the hotel, talking together, none of them looking back, not even Aziz, I became all the more determined.
I was going to manifest that house – it would be mine, and I would spend next Christmas there.
But that wasn’t the only thing. There was something even more important I needed to manifest too.
Something I know I can make happen.
One way or another, I will wipe that smile off Matthew Lloyd’s face.
Although, as I settle into bed in the garage for another night, despite very distinctly asking the Universe not to sleep here tonight, and relive what happened earlier today, I do find my confidence waning somewhat.
I keep thinking back to what ML said about The Guide .
Obviously, he was being a wanker – I know that.
But if I can’t even manifest sleeping in a non-mouldy cat-toilet of a room, let alone achieve success as an influencer (only had seventeen views on that unboxing video so far), I do wonder how likely I am to successfully manifest keeping my job, or making Guy Carmichael fall for me.
And when I think about the fact that I was goaded into saying I’d manifest our old house, I feel hot with panic.
I mean, even if I manage to keep my job, my current salary as a children’s book editor barely covers rent; I wouldn’t get a mortgage for this garage, let alone a house that my parents couldn’t afford to keep.
So, there is literally no chance of my winning that bet any other way than the Universe giving me our old house.
I’m just going to have to believe that The Guide is as good as it claims to be.
But… it’s The Guide ?, technically. Fuck. Matthew Lloyd is getting in my head.
I am letting go of:
Posting videos – how come the one I looked awful in went viral and barely anyone has even glanced at my beautiful unboxing one? Plus, it takes ages. I’ll just stick to selfies.
The notion that Arrie is a reasonable older sister: the White Company pyjamas are only slightly stained; they are certainly not brown.
If she didn’t want me to borrow them, she should have said.
And crucially, why does she need to look good in nightwear anyway?
She’s married! That’s the point of having a husband – Roger has to give it up regardless.
Besides clearly Roger doesn’t notice what she’s wearing.
Otherwise, he’d surely have said something about that gilet…