As the singer reaches the end of the second chorus, Ali appears at Rachel’s side, just as Will—and Jack—turn around to see her for the first time.
Rachel can’t decide who is going to give the most away with that initial glance; she doesn’t suppose Ali would be stupid enough to look at Jack before Will, so Rachel concentrates on every flicker of emotion that crosses her husband’s face. His eyes drink her in, his gaze so intense that it could set a person alight. Ali must be able to see it, feel it … the whole goddamn congregation must be able to feel it.
But if they do, they pretend not to. There are ah’s and aw’s as Will smiles proudly and takes Ali’s hand in his. Her mum bursts into noisy sobs the moment she sets eyes on her daughter, theatrically throwing kisses for Ali to catch. “Look at my baby,” Rachel overhears her saying to the row behind her.
Jack pulls at his restrictive collar as the ceremony gets underway, the heat of the occasion seemingly getting to him. He breathes heavily and clenches and unclenches his fists, as he no doubt questions why Ali’s putting him through this arduous torture.
When the registrar asks if there is anyone present who knows of any reason why Ali and Will should not be married, Paige digs Rachel in the ribs. She daren’t look at her, as she honestly doesn’t know whether she’s referring to today’s proceedings or harping back to her own wedding day when she was clearly expecting Rachel to stand up and object. She can’t think about either right now as she’s concentrating solely on the twitch that has appeared, involuntarily she presumes, in Jack’s jaw. She silently begs him to throw his hand in the air, to put her out of her misery and to negate the responsibility from being firmly on her shoulders.
But it’s too late.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” says the registrar, as Stevie Wonder starts blaring out “Signed, Sealed, Delivered （I’m Yours）。”
“Great,” says Jack, as he and Rachel follow the happy couple back down the aisle. “Now I need a fucking beer.”
“Don’t we all,” pipes up Paige from behind them.
“What can I get you?” Jack asks as he strides purposefully toward a pop-up bar set up at the back of the beach.
“If they’re doing gin and tonics, I’ll have one,” says Paige. “But otherwise, wine or beer, whatever’s on offer—I’m not fussy, as long as it’s cold.”
“Rach?” asks Jack.
“Rosé, if they’ve got any,” says Rachel tersely.
“I’ll come with you,” says Noah.
“You know you’re not going to be able to keep this up all day,” says Paige, as the men drop out of earshot.
“Can’t I?” challenges Rachel.
“So, I’m assuming things haven’t improved any?”
Rachel snorts derisorily. “They’ve gotten worse.”
Paige looks at her wide-eyed. “Have you spoken to him?” she asks.
“I don’t need to,” says Rachel. “I found—”
“Wasn’t that a lovely service?” comes a voice, next to them.
Perturbed by the interruption, Rachel turns to see Ali’s friend—the one who was wearing the red dress the previous night. Her smile is twitching with nerves and her eyes flit around anxiously.
“Oh, hi,” says Rachel. “It’s Chrissy, isn’t it?”
The woman nods and breathes out a palpable sense of relief.
Rachel offers her hand and introduces Paige. “So, you’re a friend of Ali’s?”
“Yes,” says Chrissy. “We were at school together.”
Rachel feels Paige come alert, the lawyer in her ready to pounce, as if knowing what Ali was like back then will somehow shed light on why she’s a homewrecker now.
“That must have been a blast,” says Paige. “I can’t imagine what she was like back then.”
“How long have you known her?” asks Chrissy, deflecting the implied question.
“Long enough,” says Paige.
Rachel throws her a warning glance, and Paige looks at her as if to say, “What?”
This is going to be harder than Rachel thought and she bitterly regrets telling her anything. It’s hard enough keeping a lid on it herself without having to worry about Paige, who, it has to be said, is far more unpredictable. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—she’d probably done it in the hope that Paige was going to talk her out of the downward spiral she’d gotten herself in, except she’d somehow fanned the flames. It wasn’t her fault—she was only doing what a good friend would naturally do—but Rachel wishes she’d kept her suspicions to herself, at least until she’d worked out exactly what she was going to do about them.