Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

highest marks in my year for Accountancy 1 and there was no way on earth I
was dropping back just because of the vagaries of HMRC’s flat rate system.
I got home around a quarter to six, put my files on the hall chair, and they
were all lurking around the kitchen table already, while Mum began to serve up.
Thomas jumped on me, winding his legs around my waist, and I kissed him,
breathing in his lovely yeasty little-boy smell.
‘Sit down, sit down,’ Mum said. ‘Dad’s only just in.’
‘How’d you get on with your books?’ Dad said, hanging his jacket on the back
of the chair. He always referred to them as ‘my books’. Like they had a life of
their own and had to be wrangled into order.
‘Good, thanks. I’m three-quarters of the way through my Accountancy 2
module. And then tomorrow I’m on corporate law.’ I peeled Thomas from me
and put him down on the chair next to me, one hand resting in his soft hair.
‘Hear that, Josie? Corporate law.’ Dad stole a potato from the dish and stuffed
it into his mouth before Mum could see. He said it like he relished the sound of
it. I suppose he probably did. We chatted for a bit about the kinds of things my
module involved. Then we talked about Dad’s job – mostly about how the
tourists broke everything. You wouldn’t believe the maintenance, apparently.
Even the wooden posts at the car park gateway needed replacing every few
weeks because the eejits couldn’t drive a car through a twelve-foot gap.
Personally, I would have put a surcharge on the ticket price to cover it – but
that’s just me.
Mum finished serving up, and finally sat down. Thomas ate with his fingers
while he thought nobody noticed and said bum under his breath with a secret
smile, and Granddad ate with his gaze tilted upwards, as if he were actually
thinking about something else entirely. I glanced over at Lou. She was gazing at
her plate, pushing the roast chicken around as if trying to disguise it. Uh-oh, I
thought.
‘You not hungry, love?’ said Mum, following the line of my gaze.
‘Not very,’ she said.
‘It is very warm for chicken,’ Mum conceded. ‘I just thought you needed
perking up a bit.’
‘So … you going to tell us how you got on at this interview?’ Dad’s fork
stopped halfway to his mouth.