The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [62]
“Did you do something to your hair?” Julian met her at their usual Saturday morning rendezvous at a Primrose Hill deli. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d managed to catch up, Julian’s workload as heavy as Alice’s now that tax season was well under way. He paused by the cold display, assessing her. “You look…different?”
“Really? Hmm, it’s nothing new.” Alice reached past him for a bottle of juice, breezily dismissing his claim despite the fact that everything aside from her hair was, in fact, new. Her sundress was her favorite shade of navy, but it billowed to the floor from a beaded neckline in a goddesslike style, matched with a bright bracelet of thick-cut gemstones borrowed from Flora. Alice felt more elegant and feminine than ever before, thanks to the impulse purchases. She’d seen the item listed on Ella’s debit card, but it wasn’t until she was in French Connection, looking at the soft folds of fabric, that she’d been tempted to purchase it for herself. They shared a similar complexion, so of course, it suited her perfectly.
“Anyway, I was thinking we could do something else today.”
Julian looked surprised. “What do you mean? We always picnic if the weather’s good.”
“I know.” Alice followed him down the aisle of fresh-baked breads. “But there are lots of other things on today. I read about an art fair on Brick Lane, or there’s a festival at Southbank…”
“Maybe if we’d planned it.” Julian took a baguette and added it to his basket of cheese and olives. “But I told Yasmin where we’d be. She’s just checking some things at the office.”
“So text her; say to meet us somewhere else,” Alice protested, but Julian was already pondering the fresh salads, deep in thought. “Jules?” she prompted.
“Maybe another time, OK?” He shot her a quick smile, clearly distracted by the choice between nicoise and mozzarella. “Besides, the weather’s glorious. You don’t want to be inside or crammed in some car park on a day like this.”
“All right,” Alice sighed.
She wandered the deli, trying not to feel frustrated by the regularity of their routine. The problem was, those weeks she spent poring over her bank records hadn’t just revealed Ella’s spending, but Alice’s old patterns too. Her life, according to the dense print of her debit statements, was painfully predictable: her penchant for Marks and Spencer meal deals, bought at the station on her way home from work twice a week; the lunch trip to the deli, always resulting in a salad and single piece of fruit; the collection of toiletries she’d buy fortnightly in Boots, gradually accruing her meaningless loyalty points. Alice had always liked the reliable structure of her days, but seeing her life laid out in those dull lines of data had shifted something. She wanted to do something new, exciting for a change.
“And get crisps too,” Julian called from the next aisle. “Those Kettle ones you know I like!”
Perhaps tomorrow.
***
The weather was indeed glorious. Alice and Julian set up their picnic in the civilized shade of their favorite tree, with London stretching below them in a clear, sun-drenched view. A tartan blanket, the newspapers, and a bottle of white wine—it was the leisurely weekend idyll, and as Alice snapped the lids from their array of food containers and spooned the contents onto plastic plates, she tried to dwell not on how many times they’d done this before but on the loveliness of their surroundings.
“Cheers.” Julian bit hungrily into his cheese-smeared bread, sprawling back on his elbows in contentment.
“Cheers,” Alice echoed. She hitched up her long dress and shifted her legs into the sun. “So, what’s been happening with you? How’s it working out, living with Yasmin?”
Julian chewed thoughtfully. “Interesting…”
“Hardly a glowing review,” Alice noted, reaching for the bread. She tore off a hunk and waited patiently for the litany of Julian’s minor irritations that would, as always, add up to the end of the