Me Before You
Page 13
‘Oh yes. No such thing as a free lunch, eh?’ Nathan clapped me on the shoulder. I felt my body reverberate with it. ‘Ah, he’s all right. You don’t have to pu**yfoot around him.’ He hesitated. ‘I like him.’
He said it like he might be the only person who did.
I followed him back into the living room. Will Traynor’s chair had moved to the window, and he had his back to us and was staring out, listening to something on the radio.
‘That’s me done, Will. You want anything before I go?’
‘No. Thank you, Nathan.’
‘I’ll leave you in Miss Clark’s capable hands, then. See you lunchtime, mate.’
I watched the affable helper putting on his jacket with a rising sense of panic.
‘Have fun, you guys.’ Nathan winked at me, and then he was gone.
I stood in the middle of the room, hands thrust in my pockets, unsure what to do. Will Traynor continued to stare out of the window as if I weren’t there.
‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ I said, finally, when the silence became unbearable.
‘Ah. Yes. The girl who makes tea for a living. I wondered how long it would be before you wanted to show off your skills. No. No, thank you.’
‘Coffee, then?’
‘No hot beverages for me, just now, Miss Clark.’
‘You can call me Lou.’
‘Will it help?’
I blinked, my mouth opening briefly. I closed it. Dad always said it made me look more stupid than I actually was. ‘Well … can I get you anything?’
He turned to look at me. His jaw was covered in several weeks of stubble, and his eyes were unreadable. He turned away.
‘I’ll –’ I cast around the room. ‘I’ll see if there’s any washing, then.’
I walked out of the room, my heart thumping. From the safety of the kitchen I pulled out my mobile phone and thumped out a message to my sister.
This is awful. He hates me.
The reply came back within seconds.
You have only been there an hour,
you wuss! M & D really
worried about money. Just get a grip
& think of hourly rate. X
I snapped my mobile phone shut, and blew out my cheeks. I went through the laundry basket in the bathroom, managing to raise a paltry quarter load of washing, and spent some minutes checking the instructions to the machine. I didn’t want to mis-programme it or do anything which might prompt Will or Mrs Traynor to look at me like I was stupid again. I started the washing machine and stood there, trying to work out what else I could legitimately do. I pulled the vacuum cleaner from the hall cupboard and ran it up and down the corridor and into the two bedrooms, thinking all the while that if my parents could see me they would have insisted on taking a commemorative photograph. The spare bedroom was almost empty, like a hotel room. I suspected Nathan did not stay over often. I thought I probably couldn’t blame him.
I hesitated outside Will Traynor’s bedroom, then reasoned that it needed vacuuming just like anywhere else. There was a built-in shelf unit along one side, upon which sat around twenty framed photographs.
As I vacuumed around the bed, I allowed myself a quick peek at them. There was a man bungee jumping from a cliff, his arms outstretched like a statue of Christ. There was a man who might have been Will in what looked like jungle, and him again in the midst of a group of drunken friends. The men wore bow ties and dinner jackets and had their arms around each other’s shoulders.
There he was on a ski slope, beside a girl with dark glasses and long blonde hair. I stooped, to get a better view of him in his ski goggles. He was clean-shaven in the photograph, and even in the bright light his face had that expensive sheen to it that moneyed people get through going on holiday three times a year. He had broad, muscular shoulders visible even through his ski jacket. I put the photograph carefully back on the table and continued to vacuum around the back of the bed. Finally, I turned the vacuum cleaner off, and began to wind the cord up. As I reached down to unplug it, I caught a movement in the corner of my eye and jumped, letting out a small shriek. Will Traynor was in the doorway, watching me.
‘Courchevel. Two and a half years ago.’
I blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I was just –’
‘You were just looking at my photographs. Wondering how awful it must be to live like that and then turn into a cripple.’
‘No.’ I blushed even more furiously.
‘The rest of my photographs are in the bottom drawer if you find yourself overcome with curiosity again,’ he said.
And then with a low hum the wheelchair turned to the right, and he disappeared.
The morning sagged and decided to last for several years. I couldn’t remember the last time minutes and hours stretched so interminably. I tried to find as many jobs to occupy myself as I could, and went into the living room as seldom as possible, knowing I was being cowardly, but not really caring.
At eleven I brought Will Traynor a beaker of water and his anti-spasm medication, as Nathan had requested. I placed the pill on his tongue and then offered him the beaker, as Nathan had instructed me. It was pale, opaque plastic, the kind of thing Thomas had used, except without Bob the Builder on the sides. He swallowed with some effort, and then signalled to me that I should leave him alone.
I dusted some shelves that didn’t really need dusting, and contemplated cleaning some windows. Around me the annexe was silent, apart from the low hum of the television in the living room where he sat. I didn’t feel confident enough to put on a music station in the kitchen. I had a feeling he would have something cutting to say about my choice in music.
He said it like he might be the only person who did.
I followed him back into the living room. Will Traynor’s chair had moved to the window, and he had his back to us and was staring out, listening to something on the radio.
‘That’s me done, Will. You want anything before I go?’
‘No. Thank you, Nathan.’
‘I’ll leave you in Miss Clark’s capable hands, then. See you lunchtime, mate.’
I watched the affable helper putting on his jacket with a rising sense of panic.
‘Have fun, you guys.’ Nathan winked at me, and then he was gone.
I stood in the middle of the room, hands thrust in my pockets, unsure what to do. Will Traynor continued to stare out of the window as if I weren’t there.
‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ I said, finally, when the silence became unbearable.
‘Ah. Yes. The girl who makes tea for a living. I wondered how long it would be before you wanted to show off your skills. No. No, thank you.’
‘Coffee, then?’
‘No hot beverages for me, just now, Miss Clark.’
‘You can call me Lou.’
‘Will it help?’
I blinked, my mouth opening briefly. I closed it. Dad always said it made me look more stupid than I actually was. ‘Well … can I get you anything?’
He turned to look at me. His jaw was covered in several weeks of stubble, and his eyes were unreadable. He turned away.
‘I’ll –’ I cast around the room. ‘I’ll see if there’s any washing, then.’
I walked out of the room, my heart thumping. From the safety of the kitchen I pulled out my mobile phone and thumped out a message to my sister.
This is awful. He hates me.
The reply came back within seconds.
You have only been there an hour,
you wuss! M & D really
worried about money. Just get a grip
& think of hourly rate. X
I snapped my mobile phone shut, and blew out my cheeks. I went through the laundry basket in the bathroom, managing to raise a paltry quarter load of washing, and spent some minutes checking the instructions to the machine. I didn’t want to mis-programme it or do anything which might prompt Will or Mrs Traynor to look at me like I was stupid again. I started the washing machine and stood there, trying to work out what else I could legitimately do. I pulled the vacuum cleaner from the hall cupboard and ran it up and down the corridor and into the two bedrooms, thinking all the while that if my parents could see me they would have insisted on taking a commemorative photograph. The spare bedroom was almost empty, like a hotel room. I suspected Nathan did not stay over often. I thought I probably couldn’t blame him.
I hesitated outside Will Traynor’s bedroom, then reasoned that it needed vacuuming just like anywhere else. There was a built-in shelf unit along one side, upon which sat around twenty framed photographs.
As I vacuumed around the bed, I allowed myself a quick peek at them. There was a man bungee jumping from a cliff, his arms outstretched like a statue of Christ. There was a man who might have been Will in what looked like jungle, and him again in the midst of a group of drunken friends. The men wore bow ties and dinner jackets and had their arms around each other’s shoulders.
There he was on a ski slope, beside a girl with dark glasses and long blonde hair. I stooped, to get a better view of him in his ski goggles. He was clean-shaven in the photograph, and even in the bright light his face had that expensive sheen to it that moneyed people get through going on holiday three times a year. He had broad, muscular shoulders visible even through his ski jacket. I put the photograph carefully back on the table and continued to vacuum around the back of the bed. Finally, I turned the vacuum cleaner off, and began to wind the cord up. As I reached down to unplug it, I caught a movement in the corner of my eye and jumped, letting out a small shriek. Will Traynor was in the doorway, watching me.
‘Courchevel. Two and a half years ago.’
I blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I was just –’
‘You were just looking at my photographs. Wondering how awful it must be to live like that and then turn into a cripple.’
‘No.’ I blushed even more furiously.
‘The rest of my photographs are in the bottom drawer if you find yourself overcome with curiosity again,’ he said.
And then with a low hum the wheelchair turned to the right, and he disappeared.
The morning sagged and decided to last for several years. I couldn’t remember the last time minutes and hours stretched so interminably. I tried to find as many jobs to occupy myself as I could, and went into the living room as seldom as possible, knowing I was being cowardly, but not really caring.
At eleven I brought Will Traynor a beaker of water and his anti-spasm medication, as Nathan had requested. I placed the pill on his tongue and then offered him the beaker, as Nathan had instructed me. It was pale, opaque plastic, the kind of thing Thomas had used, except without Bob the Builder on the sides. He swallowed with some effort, and then signalled to me that I should leave him alone.
I dusted some shelves that didn’t really need dusting, and contemplated cleaning some windows. Around me the annexe was silent, apart from the low hum of the television in the living room where he sat. I didn’t feel confident enough to put on a music station in the kitchen. I had a feeling he would have something cutting to say about my choice in music.
