Date Thursday 12 January Time 10.50pm
My thoughts and reflections:
Caught a few glimpses of Guy Carmichael today, but nothing more.
That’s okay. The Universe presumably has other things to take care of too.
I went shopping after work and bought a beautiful limited-edition H&M scarf which looks just like the Gucci one and is worth every penny.
I know Guy Carmichael has said that we’ll have to keep it under wraps when we go out, but I can imagine a photo of me, in this scarf (and ideally the silver trousers and boots the model in the campaign is wearing) at the Blue Bar ( Tatler favourite), as my profile pic.
(At the moment I’ve got a picture of me in Astrid and Aziz’s kitchen, standing at the island, looking like I’m cooking.
I’m not, as Astrid, Arrie and Mum have all been quick to identify.
But to non-family members who don’t know I can’t cook, it certainly gives off a smug vibe of which I’m quite proud.
But the Blue Bar selfie would top that.)
I didn’t get home until late and when I let myself in, I heard raised voices from the kitchen.
‘If you keep avoiding it,’ Aziz was saying, ‘we’re going to have a problem.’
‘And if you keep pushing, it, Aziz, we’re going to have a far bigger one,’ shouted Astrid.
Aziz said something too quiet for me to hear.
So interesting hearing people who aren’t Carvers argue – they don’t all get louder and louder and louder.
I hung up my coat and went upstairs to put my new scarf away.
Astrid keeps mentioning contributions to the electricity and gas and I’ve said I don’t have any money until I’m paid, which is true, but she would be bitchy about my buying the scarf if she knew.
By the time I’d been to the loo, it sounded a lot calmer downstairs and safe to venture into the main living area so I thought it would be a good time to chat to Aziz about borrowing a pair of his glasses for work tomorrow.
I feel like Guy Carmichael would be all over that look – sort of a classic hot-secretary Chanel thing.
But when I got into the kitchen, it was only Astrid, her back turned to me, rummaging in their behemoth of a fridge which they keep really quite disappointing food in.
Still, it’s all been useful in the Paleo diet – look at me instantly turning obstacles into opportunities!
‘Hey, Astrid,’ I said. ‘Where’s Az?’
‘Still at work,’ she said shortly.
I was about to tell her that I’d heard him in the kitchen so he couldn’t be, but when Astrid turned round, her eyes looked a bit pink and piggy, like they do when she’s upset.
‘You okay, Astrid?’
‘Of course I’m not okay, Alice,’ snapped Astrid, aggressively peeling an edamame, and tugging up her trouser waistband, which seemed to be too loose.
‘I’ve been working all day and then volunteering at the hospital – oldest work experience they’ve had ever and no one treats me with any respect – and I’m exhausted.
Plus I’ve just spent a fortune on textbooks. ’
I settled myself on a bar stool and took a bean. ‘How did it go at the hospital?’ I asked. ‘Any fun stuff?’
‘Couple of broken bones, a heart attack, one DOA, and a man who’d blended his thumb.’
‘Shit,’ I said, thinking about the thumb. That had to involve blood. ‘Sounds gross. Were you sick?’
‘A couple of times,’ said Astrid grimly. ‘And fainted once.’
We both ate beans in silence.
‘Hmm,’ I said tentatively. ‘And you’re sure you really want to go through—’
‘Don’t say it!’ said Astrid shrilly. ‘Do not ask me if I’m sure I want to do medicine. Not if you want somewhere to sleep tonight.’
‘Woah, Astrid. Take a chill pill. I was only going to ask if you were sure you really wanted to go through hot yoga tonight after all that vomming? Can’t be healthy.’
‘What?’ Astrid looked momentarily confused.
‘Thursday night? Your yoga class?’
Astrid pushed back her hair from her forehead and shut her eyes. ‘I completely forgot. And I’m not sure I am in the mood.’
We both looked at each other for a second. Astrid lives for hot yoga. And power yoga. And vinyasa. She’s a fanatic. A tall, bendy, freakishly strong obsessive yogi. She’s always in the mood for yoga.
‘Do you want a glass of wine or something?’ I said hopefully.
Astrid sighed. ‘I should do work. I’ve got so much work. I’ve got cases to review and I’m trying to study basic anatomy.’
‘Yeah. Or you could get into your PJs, order pizza, drink wine, and catch up on Newsnight with me. Sister time.’
‘You’ve never watched Newsnight in your life,’ said Astrid.
‘Okay, well, if you insist, we could watch Below Deck .’
Astrid harrumphed. I could tell she was considering it.
‘Everyone needs a break,’ I said. ‘Even you. And you really need to eat something proper if you’ve been sick. I’ll pay.’
Astrid looked down at herself, and brushed ineffectively at stains on her top and trousers.
Then she stopped and examined her hands and gave a small dry heave.
‘Okay,’ she said, suddenly making a move.
‘I’m going to get changed out of these clothes because they are pretty saturated with bodily fluids – most of them mine.
If you’re paying, I’ll have the capricciosa – make sure it’s from Little Italy. And you need to pour the wine.’
I didn’t need telling twice. I selected a nice frosty bottle of Pinot gris, and was just pouring a couple of generous glasses when Aziz came in. Perfect timing. ‘Az!’ I beamed at him. ‘Wine?’
‘Not for me, Alice,’ he said. He looked at the second glass. ‘Do you have someone coming over?’
‘It’s for Astrid.’
Aziz paused. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I thought she looked a bit tired, so I suggested wine and takeaway pizza.’
‘Good,’ said Aziz. ‘Good. Well done, Alice.’
‘For someone who’s praising me, Az, you look a bit sad?’
‘No, no, all good, Alice.’
‘What pizza do you want? Astrid said it had to be Little Italy. My treat. Hope Deliveroo do it.’
Aziz gave a little laugh but it didn’t sound super cheerful. ‘Yeah. Deliveroo do Little Italy.’
‘Super!’ I said. ‘What do you want?’
I took a sip of the wine. I am a huge fan of the wine-fridge way of life. Honestly, Aziz and Astrid have a better set-up here than a bar. Their wine is so nice (except for the Friulano). I checked Little Italy pizzas on Deliveroo. Bloody hell. They weren’t exactly kebab prices.
‘Um, Aziz,’ I began. ‘Is there anywhere else a bit cheaper I could get pizza from?’
Aziz sighed. ‘If you get her to eat pizza from Little Italy, I’ll not only pay for it, but I’ll give you ￡50.’
I nearly choked on my wine with delight. Today was shaping up well. ‘Er… done!’
‘But don’t tell her. Okay?’
Aziz looked dejected. And tired. Kind of like Astrid.
‘Aren’t you going to have pizza with us?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve transferred you ￡100. That should cover it.’
My phone pinged with the notification that my account had received ￡100. Normally that would bring me unprecedented joy.
‘Are you at least going to hang out with us?’ I asked Aziz. ‘Watch a bit of Below Deck ? It’s amazing seeing them vacuum, and cock-up drink orders… ’
Aziz gave me one of his trademark grins. Sweet and very loveable. ‘Nah. I’m going to get an early one, Alice. You can fill me in tomorrow.’
I am letting go of:
Asking Aziz if I can borrow his glasses – the man needs a break.