Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

he had to rest, to complete his course of antibiotics, to stay warm and dry. Whitewater
rafting and scuba diving were not part of his plan for convalescence.
I stared at my folders, at all the effort and work and imagination that had gone
into compiling them. I stared at the passport that I had queued to collect,
remembering my mounting sense of excitement even as I sat on the train heading
into the city, and for the first time since I had embarked upon my plan, I felt
properly despondent. There were just over three weeks to go, and I had failed.
My contract was due to end, and I had done nothing to noticeably change Will’s
mind. I was afraid to even ask Mrs Traynor where on earth we went from here. I
felt suddenly overwhelmed. I dropped my head into my hands and, in the silent
little house, I left it there.
‘Evening.’
My head shot up. Nathan was standing there, filling the little kitchen with his
bulk. He had his backpack over his shoulder.
‘I just came to drop off some prescription meds for when he gets back.
You … okay?’
I wiped briskly at my eyes. ‘Sure. Sorry. Just … just a little daunted about
cancelling this lot.’
Nathan swung his backpack off his shoulder and sat down opposite me. ‘It’s a
pisser, that’s for sure.’ He picked up the folder, and began flicking through. ‘You
want a hand tomorrow? They don’t want me at the hospital, so I could stop by
for an hour in the morning. Help you put in the calls.’
‘That’s kind of you. But no. I’ll be fine. Probably simpler if I do it all.’
Nathan made tea, and we sat opposite each other and drank it. I think it was
the first time Nathan and I had really talked to each other – at least, without Will
between us. He told me about a previous client of his, C3/4 quadriplegic with a
ventilator, who had been ill at least once a month for the whole time he worked
there. He told me about Will’s previous bouts of pneumonia, the first of which
had nearly killed him, and from which it had taken him weeks to recover.
‘He gets this look in his eye … ’ he said. ‘When he’s really sick. It’s pretty
scary. Like he just … retreats. Like he’s almost not even there.’
‘I know. I hate that look.’
‘He’s a –’ he began. And then, abruptly, his eyes slid away from me and he
closed his mouth.