Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

and said that yes, he knew of them. Yes, he would probably have gone for it too.
The way he said it didn’t sound promising for Dad’s job.
Mum just cooed at Will, and made a huge fuss of him. I realized, watching her
smile, that at some stage during the meal he had just become a smart young man
at her table. No wonder Patrick was pissed off.
‘Birthday cake?’ Granddad said, as she began to clear the dishes.
It was so distinct, so surprising, that Dad and I stared at each other in shock.
The whole table went quiet.
‘No,’ I walked around the table and kissed him. ‘No, Granddad. Sorry. But it
is chocolate mousse. You like that.’
He nodded in approval. My mother was beaming. I don’t think any of us could
have had a better present.
The mousse arrived on the table, and with it a large, square present, about the
size of a telephone directory, wrapped in tissue.
‘Presents, is it?’ Patrick said. ‘Here. Here’s mine.’ He smiled at me as he
placed it in the middle of the table.
I raised a smile back. This was no time to argue, after all.
‘Go on,’ said Dad. ‘Open it.’
I opened theirs first, peeling the paper carefully away so that I didn’t tear it. It
was a photograph album, and on every page there was a picture from a year in
my life. Me as a baby; me and Treena as solemn, chubby-faced girls; me on my
first day at secondary school, all hairclips and oversized skirt. More recently,
there was a picture of me and Patrick, the one where I was actually telling him to
piss off. And me, dressed in a grey skirt, my first day in my new job. In between
the pages were pictures of our family by Thomas, letters that Mum had kept
from school trips, my childish handwriting telling of days on the beach, lost ice
creams and thieving gulls. I flicked through, and only hesitated briefly when I
saw the girl with the long, dark flicked-back hair. I turned the page.
‘Can I see?’ Will said.
‘It’s not been … the best year,’ Mum told him, as I flicked through the pages
in front of him. ‘I mean, we’re fine and everything. But, you know, things being
what they are. And then Granddad saw something on the daytime telly about
making your own presents, and I thought that was something that would … you
know … really mean something.’