Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

who didn’t need anything actually supported, and which cost more than my
weekly salary.
While the vicar droned on, and the little ballet-shod bridesmaids shuffled in
their pews, I gazed around me at the other guests. There was barely a woman
there who didn’t look like she might appear in the pages of a glossy magazine.
Their shoes, which matched their outfits to the exact hue, looked as if they had
never been worn before. The younger women stood elegantly in four- or fiveinch
heels, with perfectly manicured toenails. The older women, in kitten heels,
wore structured suits, boxed shoulders with silk linings in contrasting colours,
and hats that looked as if they defied gravity.
The men were less interesting to look at, but nearly all had that air about them
that I could sometimes detect in Will – of wealth and entitlement, a sense that
life would settle itself agreeably around you. I wondered about the companies
they ran, the worlds they inhabited. I wondered if they noticed people like me,
who nannied their children, or served them in restaurants. Or pole danced for
their business colleagues, I thought, remembering my interviews at the Job
Centre.
The weddings I went to usually had to separate the bride and 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
bobbing and 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.