Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

tense. They were like two dogs circling each other, deciding whether to bare
their teeth.
‘New CEO of my old company,’ Will said, as the man finally departed with a
wave. ‘I think he was just making sure that I wouldn’t be trying to stage a
takeover.’
The sun grew fierce, the garden became a fragrant pit, people sheltered under
dappled trees. I took Will into the doorway of the marquee, worried about his
temperature. Inside the marquee huge fans had been kicked into life, whirring
lazily over our heads. In the distance, under the shelter of a summer house, a
string quartet played music. It was like a scene from a film.
Alicia, floating around the garden – an ethereal vision, air-kissing and
exclaiming – didn’t approach us.
I watched Will drain two glasses of Pimm’s and was secretly glad.
Lunch was served at 4pm. I thought that was a pretty odd time to serve lunch
but, as Will pointed out, it was a wedding. Time seemed to have stretched and
become meaningless, anyway, its passage blurred by endless drinks and
meandering conversations. I don’t know if it was the heat, or the atmosphere, but
by the time we arrived at our table I felt almost drunk. When I found myself
babbling incoherently to the elderly man on my left, I realized it was actually a
possibility.
‘Is there any alcohol in that Pimm’s stuff?’ I said to Will, after I had managed
to tip the contents of the salt cellar into my lap.
‘About the same as a glass of wine. In each one.’
I stared at him in horror. Both of him. ‘You’re kidding. It had fruit in it! I
thought that meant it was alcohol free. How am I going to drive you home?’
‘Some carer you are,’ he said. He raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s it worth for me
not to tell my mother?’
I was stunned by Will’s reaction to the whole day. I had thought I was going to
get Taciturn Will, Sarcastic Will. At the very least, Silent Will. But he had been
charming to everybody. Even the arrival of soup at lunch didn’t faze him. He just
asked politely whether anybody would like to swap his soup for their bread, and
the two girls on the far side of the table – who professed themselves ‘wheat
intolerant’ – nearly threw their rolls at him.