Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

closed. His skin looked grey, tinged with a blue-whiteness which made
something in me constrict. Mrs Traynor sat next to him, one hand resting on his
covered arm. She was staring, unseeing, at the wall opposite.
‘Mrs Traynor,’ I said.
She glanced up with a start. ‘Oh. Louisa.’
‘How … how is he doing?’ I wanted to go and take Will’s other hand, but I
didn’t feel like I could sit down. I hovered there by the door. There was an
expression of such dejection on her face that even to be in the room felt like
intruding.
‘A bit better. They have him on some very strong antibiotics.’
‘Is there … anything I can do?’
‘I don’t think so, no. We … we just have to wait. The consultant will be
making his rounds in an hour or so. He’ll be able to give us more information,
hopefully.’
The world seemed to have stopped. I stood there a little longer, letting the
steady beep of the machines burn a rhythm into my consciousness.
‘Would you like me to take over for a while? So you can have a break?’
‘No. I think I’ll stay, actually.’
A bit of me was hoping that Will would hear my voice. A bit of me was
hoping his eyes would open above that clear plastic mask, and he would mutter,
‘Clark. Come and sit down for God’s sake. You’re making the place look
untidy.’
But he just lay there.
I wiped at my face with a hand. ‘Would … would you like me to get you a
drink?’
Mrs Traynor looked up. ‘What time is it?’
‘A quarter to ten.’
‘Is it really?’ She shook her head, as if she found that hard to believe. ‘Thank
you, Louisa. That would be … that would be very kind. I seem to have been here
rather a long time.’
I had been off on Friday – in part because the Traynors insisted I was owed a
day off, but mostly because there was no way I could get a passport other than
heading to London on the train and queuing up at Petty France. I had popped by
their house on Friday night, on my return, to show Will my spoils and to make