Date Sunday 19 February Time 5.30pm
My thoughts and reflections:
Thank you, Universe!
Everything has gone way better than I could have hoped for.
Guy doesn’t look that different out of work clothes; he is still smart, sexy and with that sort of European Armani model vibe (albeit a little shorter and a little more hirsute than an actual Armani model).
But he’s got the cashmere scarf, woollen jumper, three-quarter-length coat etc.
No Vans in sight. He was duly appreciative of the beauty of Little Minchcombe, and downright grateful as soon as he’d entered the Lamb with its expansive reception and curved velvet sofas.
‘It’s fucking decent, Alice, for the countryside. What’s the wifi code?’
We were in the middle of checking in at the island desk when he got a call which he had to deal with, so I used the opportunity and casually leant round the vast bunch of flowers to ask the intimidatingly immaculate woman behind them whether Matthew was about and was told, ‘I’m sorry, but unfortunately Matthew’s away and won’t be here until Tuesday. ’
‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘Any chance he’ll be popping in? How do you know he won’t be here?’
‘Erm, well, Mr Lloyd is currently out of the country,’ she said.
‘What time is his flight back on Tuesday?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to give out personal details. But our manager will be very happy to help you today if—’
‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ I said quickly, trying to hide my relief.
I had a sudden flashback to Matthew’s grin as he walked in on New Year’s Eve whilst I was talking about procuring seedy sex.
‘Are you absolutely confident he won’t just turn up suddenly?
’ I double-checked. ‘I mean the man uses helicopters. Can you ever truly relax? Can I relax? That’s what I need to know really. ’
There was a moment where she looked bemused and where I had to hold my nerve, because when you’re paying this much (or when Guy Carmichael is, in this case) you expect good service.
She blinked a couple of times. ‘If Mr Lloyd does arrive unexpectedly, I can notify you… ?’
‘That sounds reasonable,’ I agreed.
So now, I finally get to enjoy the Lamb properly – and my first full night with Guy!
The room we’re staying in is gorgeous – all pared-back luxe, cool linens and warm oak, gunmetal grey roughly plastered walls and exposed beams, natural rugs and flattering lighting.
Guy gave it the once-over and said his wife would bust her Botoxed brow if she saw this – apparently they have the same cream boucle mid-century armchair.
Still, at least he feels at home. We’ve already sunk one bottle of champagne and had sex (he was a bit louder than usual but nothing disturbing), and now we’re companionably working.
Well, I’m writing this and Guy’s working (and occasionally running his hand up my thigh in a decidedly proprietary fashion which is doing it for me), but it all looks the same to the casual observer.
I only wish I could capture it and put it online for the casual (or not-so-casual) observer, but I’ve been careful to only take shots where Guy is definitely not in them – no way I’m doing a Charlotte.
Am about to have a bath in the ascetic yet excessively generous tub and then I imagine it will be more sex before we go down for dinner, especially as Guy has just said, ‘The way you’re sucking that pen, Alice, is giving me ideas. ’
Manifesting is the business.
In one word:
Winning