Me Before You: A Novel

catheter. I’ve made him laugh. I’ve done more than your bloody family have done.’
    Mrs Traynor stood very still. She drew herself up to her full height, tucked her handbag under her arm. ‘I think this conversation has probably ended, Miss Clark.’
    ‘Yes. Yes, Mrs Traynor. I think it probably has.’
    She turned, and walked swiftly out of the cafe.
    When the door slammed shut, I realized I too was shaking.
    That conversation with Mrs Traynor kept me jangling for the next couple of days. I kept hearing her words, the idea that I was
rubbing my happiness in his face
. I didn’t think Will could be affected by anything that I did. When he had seemed disapproving about my decision to move in with Patrick, I had thought it was about him not liking Patrick rather than any feelings he had for me. More importantly, I didn’t think I had looked particularly happy.
    At home, I couldn’t shake this feeling of anxiety. It was like a low-level current running through me, and it fed into everything I did. I asked Patrick, ‘Would we have done this if my sister hadn’t needed my room at home?’
    He had looked at me as if I were daft. He leant over and pulled me to him, kissing the top of my head. Then he glanced down. ‘Do you have to wear these pyjamas? I hate you in pyjamas.’
    ‘They’re comfortable.’
    ‘They look like something my mum would wear.’
    ‘I’m not going to wear a basque and suspenders every night just to keep you happy. And you’re not answering my question.’
    ‘I don’t know. Probably. Yes.’
    ‘But we weren’t talking about it, were we?’
    ‘Lou, most people move in with each other because it’s sensible. You can love someone and still see the financial and practical advantages.’
    ‘I just … don’t want you to think I made this happen. I don’t want to feel like I made this happen.’
    He sighed, and rolled on to his back. ‘Why do women always have to go over and over a situation until it becomes a problem? I love you, you love me, we’ve been together nearly seven years and there was no room at your parents’ house any more. It’s actually pretty simple.’
    But it didn’t feel simple.
    It felt like I was living a life I hadn’t had a chance to anticipate.
    That Friday it rained all day – warm, heavy sheets of it, like we were in the tropics, making the guttering gurgle and bowing the stems of the flowering shrubs as if insupplication. Will stared out of the windows like a dog denied a walk. Nathan came and went, a plastic bag lifted above his head. Will watched a documentary about penguins, and afterwards, while he logged on to his computer, I busied myself, so that we didn’t have to talk to each other. I felt our discomfort with each other keenly, and being in the same room as him all the time made it that much worse.
    I had finally begun to understand the consolations of cleaning. I mopped, cleaned windows and changed duvets. I was a constant whirl of activity. No dust mote escaped my eye, no tea ring my forensic attentions. I was dislodging the limescale on the bathroom taps using kitchen roll soaked in vinegar (my mother’s tip) when I heard Will’s chair behind me.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    I was bent low over the bath. I didn’t turn round. ‘I’m descaling your taps.’
    I could feel him watching me.
    ‘Say that again,’ he said, after a beat.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Say that again.’
    I straightened up. ‘Why, are you having problems with your hearing? I’m descaling your taps.’
    ‘No, I just want you to listen to what you’re saying. There is no reason to descale my taps, Clark. My mother won’t notice it, I won’t care, and it’s making the bathroom stink like a fish and chip shop. Besides, I’d like to go out.’
    I wiped a lock of hair from my face. It was true. There was a definite waft of large haddock in the atmosphere.
    ‘Come on. It’s finally stopped raining. I just spoke tomy dad. He said he’ll give us the keys to the castle after five o’clock, once all the tourists are out.’
    I didn’t feel great about the idea of us having to make polite conversation during a walk around the grounds. But the thought of being out of the annexe was appealing.
    ‘Okay. Give me five minutes. I need to try and get the smell of vinegar off my hands.’
    The difference between growing up like me and growing up like Will was that he wore his sense of entitlement lightly. I think if you grow up as he had done, with wealthy parents, in a