Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

to lose patience. Then, finally, I lowered the ramp and Nathan helped Will’s
chair out on to the tarmac.
‘Good job,’ Nathan said, clapping me on the back as he let himself out, but I
found it hard to believe it had been.
There are things you don’t notice until you accompany someone with a
wheelchair. One is how rubbish most pavements are, pockmarked with badly
patched holes, or just plain uneven. Walking slowly next to Will as he wheeled
himself along, I noticed how every uneven slab caused him to jolt painfully, or
how often he had to steer carefully round some potential obstacle. Nathan
pretended not to notice, but I saw him watching too. Will just looked grim-faced
and resolute.
The other thing is how inconsiderate most drivers are. They park up against
the cutouts on the pavement, or so close together that there is no way for a
wheelchair to actually cross the road. I was shocked, a couple of times even
tempted to leave some rude note tucked into a windscreen wiper, but Nathan and
Will seemed used to it. Nathan pointed out a suitable crossing place and, each of
us flanking Will, we finally crossed.
Will had not said a single word since leaving the house.
The hospital itself was a gleaming low-rise building, the immaculate reception
area more like that of some modernistic hotel, perhaps testament to private
insurance. I held back as Will told the receptionist his name, and then followed
him and Nathan down a long corridor. Nathan was carrying a huge backpack that
contained anything that Will might be likely to need during his short visit, from
beakers to spare clothes. He had packed it in front of me that morning, detailing
every possible eventuality. ‘I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to do this too
often,’ he had said, catching my appalled expression.
I didn’t follow him into the appointment. Nathan and I sat on the comfortable
chairs outside the consultant’s room. There was no hospital smell, and there were
fresh flowers in a vase on the windowsill. Not just any old flowers, either. Huge
exotic things that I didn’t know the name of, artfully arranged in minimalist
clumps.
‘What are they doing in there?’ I said after we had been there half an hour.
Nathan looked up from his book. ‘It’s just his six-month check-up.’
‘What, to see if he’s getting any better?’