Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

‘The Regent Street? Nice.’
‘Yes. Not a bad place to be. Right. Thank you for the coffee, Miss … ’
‘Clark. Louisa Clark.’
He stopped then and looked at me for a moment, and I wondered whether he
had sussed my inadequate attempts to work out who he might be.
‘Ah. Miss Clark,’ he said, his professional smile swiftly reinstated. ‘Thank
you, anyway.’
He put his briefcase carefully on the back seat, climbed into his car and was
gone.
That night, I stopped off at the library on my way home to Patrick’s. I could
have used his computer, but I still felt like I should ask, and this just seemed
easier. I sat down at the terminal, and typed ‘Michael Lawler’ and ‘Regent
Street, London’ into the search engine. Knowledge is power, Will, I told him,
silently.
There were 3,290 results, the first three of which revealed a ‘Michael Lawler,
practitioner at law, specialist in wills, probate and power of attorney’ based in
that same street. I stared at the screen for a few minutes, then I typed in his name
again, this time against the search engine of images, and there he was, at some
Round Table function, in a dark suit – Michael Lawler, specialist in wills and
probate, the same man who had spent an hour with Will.
I moved into Patrick’s that night, in the hour and a half between me finishing
work and him heading off to the track. I took everything except my bed and the
new blinds. He arrived with his car, and we loaded my belongings into bin bags.
Within two trips we had it all – bar my school books in the loft – at his.
Mum cried; she thought she was forcing me out.
‘For goodness’ sake, love. It’s time she moved on. She’s twenty-seven years
old,’ my father told her.
‘She’s still my baby,’ she said, pressing two tins of fruit cake and a carrier bag
of cleaning products into my arms.
I didn’t know what to say to her. I don’t even like fruit cake.
It was surprisingly easy, fitting my belongings into Patrick’s flat. He had next
to nothing, anyway, and I had almost nothing from years spent in the box room.
The only thing we fell out over was my CD collection, which apparently could