Gillian let the broken pieces of vase fall from her hand, her shoulders quivering as her sobbing subsided.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" William stopped on the verge of going to change his suit, turned back to his quietly weeping wife.
"That you didn't want a proper wedding."
"It still would have been 'proper'. Just not so bloody flamboyant. You know I hate all that."
"I didn't, actually."
"What? How can we have been together for this long without you knowing at least that much about me?"
"Sometimes I don't think I know you at all. You... you're so... guarded."
"I am not guarded."
"You never really talk about what you want. You always leave it up to me."
"I want you to be happy, that's all."
"I'd rather you told me what you really think. Feel. Who you really are."
William flushed. Turned away, trying to avoid her searching gaze.
"What?" Gillian had caught the first flash of the pain in his eyes. "What is it? Tell me!"
"You wouldn't like who I really am," he said quietly.
"What do you mean? I love you! At least..."
"Exactly. You love who you think I am. Who I try to be, for you. Or worse, who you want me to be. I don't know whether I can do it any more."
"Do what?"
"Hide."
"What are you hiding from? Not from me?"
Gillian stood up, brushed the creases out of her dress. She started to move towards William, but thought better of it.
"It's not a matter of hiding from anything," William replied. "It's more what I'm trying to hide. Me. Oh God, do we really have to get into this now? We'll be late for the wedding."
"Then let's be late," Gillian retorted.
William's eyes widened. "A few moments ago your best friend's wedding was the most important thing in the world."
"Yes, well. That was before we got into this."
"We haven't got into anything," William said quickly. "Come on. I've got to get changed and you'd better run a damp towel over that dress. My blue suit isn't ideal, but that's the only bridesmaid's dress we have in the house!"
*
"I don't think anyone noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"That I wasn't wearing the right colour suit."
William dropped his car keys on the tray. "Nightcap?"
"I wouldn't mind a drop of brandy."
"I'll join you," William agreed, walking through into the living room. Gillian took off her shoes. The clink of glasses being removed from the cabinet and the brandy decanter being unstoppered echoed across the cold hall. She shivered and turned the heating up.
In the living room, William had set her snifter beside her chair. He was cradling his, standing at the window staring into the garden.
"Close the curtains. It's bloody freezing in here," Gillian said.
"I want a divorce," William replied.
"Wha-- You want what?"
William drained his glass in one gulp. "I told you earlier that you wouldn't like the real me," he said. "And I also said I couldn't go on hiding it any longer."
"I don't understand. What's brought this on? I thought we were happy!"
"You were happy. At least, you made a good job of pretending. I haven't been happy for a long time."
"Are you-- Is there someone else?"
"Ha! The predictable question. Would you believe me if I said no?"
"Yes! That is, I think so. I've never... you've never given me any reason to suspect--"
"Good. That's because there isn't a reason. I don't have anyone else. I don't want anyone."
"But you don't want me any more, is that it?"
William hesitated. He walked over to the drinks cabinet and refilled his brandy glass. "It's more that, oh God! I said I couldn't pretend any more. And I think that, if... no, when I stop pretending, you won't want me."
"But I love you William! This is crazy! I don't understand."
"Have you been listening to anything I've said today, Gill? You're in love with someone who doesn't really exist. The William you love is a fabrication. A shadow. A confection of lies and half-truths, concealment and doublethink."
"I don't believe you."
"Yeah? Well it's true."
"Well come on then. Give me an example. Show me the real you."
"You don't mean that."
"I bloody do! If it's going to mean divorce anyway, why not tell me the truth?"
"You won't like it."
"I already don't like it William! For fuck's sake! We've spent the whole day at someone else's wedding and now you want to call time on ours? It's madness!"
"How many people at that wedding do you think are your real friends."
"What? All of them! Who are you talking about?"
"The people at the fucking wedding!"
"Alright, no need to swear. I don't know who you mean! Our friends? Judy's mum? Frederick's parents? I don't know ALL of them."
"I'm not talking about their parents! Jesus Christ. How many of them are your friends?"
"All of our friends were there!"
"All of your friends. None of them are my friends. We never see my friends."
"What--? You mean Charlie? Dimble? Those friends? You haven't seen them for years! They never keep in touch, they--"
"They never keep in touch because you made it clear you didn't like them. They put up with you a few times for my sake, but when you started picking at their hobbies, clothes, girlfriends, well... they just gave up on you. And me. And don't pretend you weren't glad about it. Whenever I suggested catching up with them again you were always ready with an excuse. Oh it's the garden show this weekend, or your family were coming over, or Judy -- bloody Judy! -- had some crisis you had to deal with."
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