Date Monday 26 December Time 11.30pm #2
‘Would you like me to take your coat for you?’ she said, leaning towards me.
It was Miu Miu. Matthew must be paying her seriously well.
‘Er no, thanks,’ I said. ‘Can we just have coffees – a double espresso and a flat white?’
I saw a look of recognition cross her face and a small smile, which she quickly corrected.
‘Someone will bring them through shortly,’ she said. ‘Please make yourselves at home.’
As soon as the library door had shut behind her I turned to Aziz. ‘Do you think she’s sleeping with Matthew?’
‘What?’ said Aziz.
‘The model hotel woman with the expensive polo shirt.’
‘She’s his usual type, I suppose. But he’s her boss. So I’d guess… no. Why?’
‘I just feel she’s a bit above her station.’
‘How?’
‘All that “make yourself at home” and plumping cushions.’
‘Isn’t that hospitality?’ said Aziz, looking confused. Then he looked at me properly which is never a good sign. ‘Is there something you want to talk about, Alice?’
‘I mean yes, Aziz. There’s loads I want to talk to you about – my life has gone to shit – but Astrid said she’ll charge me.’
‘Alice,’ said Aziz gently. ‘I can’t be your therapist. Nothing to do with money and I’m sure Astrid didn’t say that—’
‘She did actually.’
‘But you can talk to me as your brother-in-law if something is bothering you.’
My eyes flicked up to the carriage clock on one of the bookshelves. Time was running out.
We got the video filmed just before a man with floppy hair arrived with coffees, and although I hadn’t managed to get my coat back on, apart from a slightly curious stare, he didn’t comment on my attire.
Aziz cheered up as soon as he’d downed his double espresso, which was helpful, because by now it was nearly midday, and I was keen to get home and changed before seeing the family. And Matthew bloody Lloyd.
‘We’d better get back,’ I said. ‘Before they all do.’
‘Okay.’ Aziz reluctantly surrendered his seat on the wingback armchair. ‘Let’s go. Don’t forget you’re paying.’
We made our way out of the library and along the generous flagstoned corridor to the spacious reception with its island desk and kidney-shaped velvet sofas that I think are from Heals, and obscenely large bunches of flowers.
Gosh, it was gorgeous in here. I could happily spend all day just sitting in here.
‘Can I settle our bill?’ I asked the ‘the woman behind the desk.
‘Certainly,’ she said, turning the screen to face me.
Bloody hell – ￡12 for two coffees? No wonder Matthew Lloyd was so rich.
‘Aziz… ’ I began.
‘Seriously, Alice,’ he said. ‘You’re buying.’
‘I know! Absolutely. But can you lend me a tenner? And don’t tell Astrid?’
We’d just made it out the front of the hotel and a few metres down the street towards our old house when I sensed danger. I looked over and there were Astrid and Matthew, walking towards us on the opposite side of the street.
‘Shit,’ I said under my breath, as they also registered us. ‘Just act normal, Aziz.’
‘Er, yes. Why wouldn’t I?’ said Aziz, giving me a confused look.
‘Hey, Aziz,’ called Matthew, crossing over to us. ‘Sorry for stealing your wife all morning.’
‘Hey – fine by me,’ said Aziz. ‘Gave me a chance to help Alice—’
I elbowed him before he could continue.
‘Ow,’ said Aziz, looking at me indignantly.
‘Gave us a chance to go for our own walk,’ I said. ‘Where’s everyone else?’
‘They went home to make a start on lunch and feed the cat. Anyway, why do you need help walking?’ asked Astrid, frowning. She turned to Aziz. ‘And if you wanted a walk then why didn’t you come with us? Like I asked you to?’ She didn’t look happy with him.
‘Oh it was a really short walk,’ I said quickly.
‘Where to?’
‘Here.’
‘That’s not a walk!’ said Astrid. ‘It’s five minutes from home.’
‘Granny used to call it a walk.’
‘Yeah, she only had one leg and thirty per cent lung capacity. What have you actually been doing?’
‘Nothing!’ I said.
‘She’s probably been in my hotel,’ said Matthew. ‘Is that what it is, Alice? Can’t keep away?’
How could one person be this annoying?
‘Of course I haven’t been in your hotel. It’s not my kind of thing if I’m honest.’
‘That’s news,’ said Aziz, giving me a sharp elbow back. I was pretty sure therapists weren’t allowed to shove people, but now wasn’t the time to discuss that with Aziz.
‘I thought you said you’d been desperate to go to the Lamb for ages,’ said Astrid. ‘You said everyone at work was talking about it.’
‘Really?’ Matthew looked revoltingly pleased with himself.
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ continued Astrid. ‘You even sent me a screenshot of the text from that work colleague of yours – you know the one who’s mean about everyone and always has his ankles showing – telling you to get some photos?’
‘Drunk Stephen was just letting me know about the art – that was all. We often share art tips.’
‘Are you interested in art?’ said Aziz, appearing baffled.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Since when?’ said Astrid.
‘Oh I don’t know.’ I really didn’t know.
‘So who’s your favourite artist?’ pushed Astrid.
I could see Matthew smirking. Cock.
‘How do I choose just one?’
‘So hard,’ agreed Matthew. ‘Maybe give us your top ten?’
Total cock. I had to think quickly. Then I remembered that ad from the tube about the exhibition at the Tate. ‘I guess if I had to pick one… ’ I said.
‘You don’t,’ said Matthew.
‘If I had to settle on just one,’ I continued, ‘it would be Yayoi Kusama. He’s super.’
‘ Sh e really is,’ said Matthew. ‘And what a stroke of luck. I was just about to show Astrid round. Why don’t you guys come too? Alice can spot the Kusama in my art collection – I’m sure she’ll recognise it instantly. You can take a selfie with it, Alice.’
‘No, thanks,’ I said. ‘I think I saw everything at the wedding. Great little venue, Matthew, but I’m not really into vanity projects.’
Just then the man with the floppy hair who served us coffee earlier came running out the hotel towards us.
‘Oh, hi Matthew!’ He put one hand to his hair to smooth it down, and blushed.
Typical Matthew. I bet he only hired people who fancied him deliberately.
‘Problem, Tom?’ said Matthew.
‘No, it’s just, the lady left this behind,’ he said, slightly out of breath. Then he turned to me, ‘You know, when you were videoing yourself in the library?’ and held out my journal.
My yellow pleather Guide .
You’ve got to be shitting me.
How explicit do I have to be when I ask the Universe to help me out?
Matthew looked at me with glee in his eyes, before turning to Floppy Hair.
‘Oh no, Tom. You must be mistaken. Can’t have been Alice here. She hates the Lamb. And vanity projects.’
‘No, Matthew, honestly,’ said Floppy Hair, looking nervous. ‘It was this lady. We don’t have anyone else in pyjamas.’
Astrid laughed.
‘Thanks, Tom.’ Matthew reached out and took my journal from him. ‘Good job.’
Floppy Hair tried not to look too pleased at the compliment as he went back in.
‘I’ll take that, thanks,’ I said, holding out my hand.
‘Oh, so it is yours?’ said Matthew.
Shit.
Matthew angled himself slightly further away and scrutinised the front cover. ‘ The Guide … why have I heard of that?’
‘Because it’s literally everywhere,’ said Astrid.
‘Not everywhere actually,’ I said. ‘It’s very much for those in the know.’
‘Yeah, that’s not true,’ said Astrid.
‘ A Journal for Manifesting … ’ Matthew looked up with undisguised delight.
‘What’s manifesting?’ asked Aziz.
‘How do you not know?’ said Astrid crossly. ‘You’re so out of touch.’
‘As far as I can tell,’ said Matthew, ‘it’s for crazy people who believe they can magic up whatever they want.’
‘I’m not crazy!’
‘You are wearing pyjamas outside,’ said Astrid.
‘I’ve got a coat on!’
‘Have you written in it, Alice?’ said Matthew.
‘Of course she hasn’t,’ scoffed Astrid. ‘She’ll be using it as a prop. Even if she is stupid enough to borrow Arrie’s white pyjamas and wear them outside – Arrie will kill you by the way – Alice is not stupid enough to believe in manifesting.’
‘She’s probably not.’ Matthew stared at me for a moment. Then he smiled, and went to open my journal.
‘No!’ I screeched, shoving Astrid out the way and grabbing it back. ‘That is private.’
‘Amazing,’ said Matthew. ‘You have written in it.’
‘Yes, I’ve written in it. And manifesting is not stupid.’
‘God, Alice,’ said Astrid. ‘You’re not really saying you believe in manifesting, are you?’
‘Again, what is manifesting?’ said Aziz.
‘You ask for stuff you want and then you get it,’ said Astrid.
‘Gosh,’ said Matthew. ‘How marvellously simple.’
Condescending prick. ‘Actually, manifesting is really quite complex,’ I said. ‘You ask for what you want and only get it if you believe you’re going to get it.’
Matthew sniggered.
‘So sorry,’ said Astrid acerbically. ‘Of course the believing would make all the difference.’
‘To be fair,’ interjected Aziz, ‘it may well do.’
Hmm. Unlike Aziz to disagree with Astrid.
‘Oh come on,’ said Astrid. ‘Are you saying, in your professional opinion, that if you believe in manifesting, it will work?’
‘No, Astrid,’ said Aziz. ‘I’m saying it could make a difference to the outcomes.’
‘Ha!’ I turned to Matthew and Astrid. ‘You heard the doctor. Manifesting works. He believes. I believe.’
‘Not quite what I said,’ said Aziz.
‘Interesting,’ said Matthew. ‘Do you remember Lee Parker from primary school? Used to believe he was a dog? Insisted on eating out of a bowl on the floor? I assume, by that principle, Alice, Lee Parker now is a dog?’
Astrid laughed. ‘I think he’s actually a plumber.’
‘It’s easy to mock things that make you uncomfortable, Matthew,’ I said, looking at his infuriatingly grinning face and Astrid laughing, and even Aziz smiling, and feeling like I did when I was fifteen – like the butt of the joke – that familiar sting behind it, of being judged and found wanting.
Always Matthew Lloyd. Why was I still letting him get away with it?
‘Obviously you have a problem with thinking in new ways, and that’s your prerogative, but we’re not all stuck in the past.’