Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

reached the final furlong, my yelling began to die away. ‘All right, a coffee,’ I
said. ‘I’ll settle for a coffee?’
Around me the stands had erupted into shouting and screaming. A girl was
bouncing up and down two seats along from us, her voice hoarse with
screeching. I found I was bouncing on my toes. And then I looked down and saw
that Will’s eyes were closed, a faint furrow separating his brows. I tore my
attention from the track, and knelt down.
‘Are you okay, Will?’ I said, moving close to him. ‘Do you need something?’ I
had to yell to make myself heard over the din.
‘Scotch,’ he said. ‘Large one.’
I stared at him, and he lifted his eyes to mine. He looked utterly fed up.
‘Let’s get some lunch,’ I said to Nathan.
Man Oh Man, that four-legged imposter, flashed past the finishing line a
miserable sixth. There was another cheer, and the announcer’s voice came over
the tannoy: Ladies and gentlemen, an emphatic win there from Love Be A Lady,
there in first place, followed by Winter Sun, and Barney Rubble two lengths
behind in third place.
I pushed Will’s chair through the oblivious groups of people, deliberately
bashing into heels when they failed to react to my second request.
We were just at the lift when I heard Will’s voice. ‘So, Clark, does this mean
you owe me forty pounds?’
The restaurant had been refurbished, the food now under the auspices of a
television chef whose face appeared on posters around the racecourse. I had
looked up the menu beforehand.
‘The signature dish is duck in orange sauce,’ I told the two men. ‘It’s
Seventies retro, apparently.’
‘Like your outfit,’ said Will.
Out of the cold, and away from the crowds, he appeared to have cheered up a
little. He had begun to look around him, instead of retreating back into his
solitary world. My stomach began to rumble, already anticipating a good, hot
lunch. Will’s mother had given us eighty pounds as a ‘float’. I had decided I
would pay for my food myself, and show her the receipt, and as a result had no