Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

7
Spring arrived overnight, as if winter, like some unwanted guest, had abruptly
shrugged its way into its coat and vanished, without saying goodbye. Everything
became greener, the roads bathed in watery sunshine, the air suddenly balmy.
There were hints of something floral and welcoming in the air, birdsong the
gentle backdrop to the day.
I didn’t notice any of it. I had stayed at Patrick’s house the evening before. It
was the first time I had seen him for almost a week due to his enhanced training
schedule, but having spent forty minutes in the bath with half a pack of bath
salts, he was so exhausted he could barely talk to me. I had begun stroking his
back, in a rare attempt at seduction, and he had murmured that he was really too
tired, his hand flicking as if he were swatting me away. I was still awake and
staring at his ceiling discontentedly four hours later.
Patrick and I had met while I was doing the only other job I have ever held,
that of trainee at The Cutting Edge, Hailsbury’s only unisex hairdresser’s. He
walked in while Samantha, the proprietor, was busy, asking for a number four. I
gave him what he described afterwards as the worst haircut not only that he had
ever had, but the worst haircut in the history of mankind. Three months later,
realizing that a love of fiddling with my own hair did not necessarily mean that I
was cut out to do anyone else’s, I left and got the job at the cafe with Frank.
When we started going out, Patrick had been working in sales and his
favourite things could have been listed as beer, garage chocolate, talking about
sport and sex (doing, not talking about), in that order. A good night out for us
would probably comprise all four. He was ordinary-looking rather than
handsome, and his bum was podgier than mine, but I liked it. I liked the solidity
of him, the way he felt when I wrapped myself around him. His dad was dead
and I liked the way he acted towards his mother; protective and solicitous. And