Me Before You: A Novel

groom’s families for fear of someone breaching the terms of their parole.
    Will and I had positioned ourselves at the rear of the church, Will’s chair just to the right of my end of the pew. He looked up briefly as Alicia walked down the aisle, but apart from that he faced straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Forty-eight choristers (I counted) sang something in Latin. Rupert sweated into his penguin suit and raised an eyebrow as if he felt pleased and a bit daft at the same time. Nobody clapped or cheered as they were pronounced man and wife. Rupert looked a bit awkward, dived in towards his bride like somebody apple bobbingand slightly missed her mouth. I wondered if the upper classes felt it was a bit ‘off’ to really get stuck in at the altar.
    And then it was over. Will was already making his way out towards the exit of the church. I watched the back of his head, upright and curiously dignified, and wanted to ask him if it had been a mistake to come. I wanted to ask him if he still had feelings for her. I wanted to tell him that he was too good for that silly caramel woman, no matter what appearances might suggest, and that … I didn’t know what else I wanted to say.
    I just wanted to make it better.
    ‘You okay?’ I said, as I caught up.
    The bottom line was, it should have been him.
    He blinked a couple of times. ‘Fine,’ he said. He let out a little breath, as if he had been holding it. Then he looked up at me. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a drink.’
    The marquee was situated in a walled garden, the wrought-iron gateway into it intertwined with garlands of pale-pink flowers. The bar, positioned at the far end, was already crowded, so I suggested that Will waited outside while I went and got him a drink. I weaved my way through tables clad in white linen cloths and laden with more cutlery and glassware than I had ever seen. The chairs had gilt backs, like the ones you see at fashion shows, and white lanterns hung above each centrepiece of freesias and lilies. The air was thick with the scent of flowers, to the point where I found it almost stifling.
    ‘Pimm’s?’ the barman said, when I got to the front. ‘Um … ’ I looked around, seeing that this was actually the only drink on offer. ‘Oh. Okay. Two, please.’
    He smiled at me. ‘The other drinks come out later,apparently. But Miss Dewar wanted everyone to start with Pimm’s.’ The look he gave me was slightly conspiratorial. It told me with the faintest lift of an eyebrow what he thought of that.
    I stared at the pink lemonade drink. My dad said it was always the richest people who were the tightest, but I was amazed that they wouldn’t even start the wedding with alcohol. ‘I guess that’ll have to do, then,’ I said, and took the glasses from him.
    When I found Will, there was a man talking to him. Young, bespectacled, he was half crouching, one arm resting on the arm of Will’s chair. The sun was now high in the sky, and I had to squint to see them properly. I could suddenly see the point of all those wide-brimmed hats.
    ‘So bloody good to see you out again, Will,’ he was saying. ‘The office isn’t the same without you. I shouldn’t say as much … but it’s not the same. It just isn’t.’
    He looked like a young accountant – the kind of man who is only really comfortable in a suit.
    ‘It’s nice of you to say so.’
    ‘It was just so odd. Like you fell off a cliff. One day you were there, directing everything, the next we were just supposed to … ’
    He glanced up as he noticed me standing there. ‘Oh,’ he said, and I felt his eyes settle on my chest. ‘Hello.’
    ‘Louisa Clark, meet Freddie Derwent.’
    I put Will’s glass in his holder and shook the younger man’s hand.
    He adjusted his sightline. ‘Oh,’ he said again. ‘And –’
    ‘I’m a friend of Will’s,’ I said, and then, not entirely sure why, let my hand rest lightly on Will’s shoulder.
    ‘Life not all bad, then,’ Freddie Derwent said, with a laugh that was a bit like a cough. He flushed a little as he spoke. ‘Anyway … must mingle. You know these things – apparently, we’re meant to see them as a networking opportunity. But good to see you, Will. Really. And … and you, Miss Clark.’
    ‘He seemed nice,’ I said, as we moved away. I lifted my hand from Will’s shoulder and took a long sip of my Pimm’s. It was actually tastier than it looked. I had been slightly alarmed by the presence of