Me Before You: A Novel

couldn’t tell. They finally got back from the wedding around lunchtime the following day and Mrs Traynor was so mad she could barely even speak.
    ‘You could have rung,’ she said.
    She had stayed in just to make sure they arrived back okay. I had listened to her pacing up and down the tiled corridor next door since I got there at 8am.
    ‘I must have called or texted you both eighteen times. It was only when I managed to call the Dewars’ house and somebody told me “the man in the wheelchair” had gone to a hotel that I could be sure you hadn’t both had some terrible accident on the motorway.’
    ‘“The man in the wheelchair”. Nice,’ Will observed.
    But you could see he wasn’t bothered. He was all loose and relaxed, carried his hangover with humour, even though I had the feeling he was in some pain. It was only when his mum started to have a go at Louisa that he stopped smiling. He jumped in and just said that if she had anything to say she should say it to him, as it had been his decision to stay overnight, and Louisa had simply gone along with it.
    ‘And as far as I can see, Mother, as a 35-year-old man I’m not strictly answerable to anybody when it comes tochoosing to spend a night at a hotel. Even to my parents.’
    She had stared at them both, muttered something about ‘common courtesy’ and then left the room.
    Louisa looked a bit shaken but he had gone over and murmured something to her, and that was the point at which I saw it. She went kind of pink and laughed, the kind of laugh you do when you know you shouldn’t be laughing. The kind of laugh that spoke of a conspiracy. And then Will turned to her and told her to take it easy for the rest of the day. Go home, get changed, maybe catch forty winks.
    ‘I can’t be walking around the castle with someone who has so clearly just done the walk of shame,’ he said.
    ‘Walk of shame?’ I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.
    ‘Not
that
walk of shame,’ Louisa said, flicking me with her scarf, and grabbed her coat to leave.
    ‘Take the car,’ he called out. ‘It’ll be easier for you to get back.’
    I watched Will’s eyes follow her all the way to the back door.
    I would have offered you seven to four just on the basis of that look alone.
    He deflated a little after she left. It was as if he had been holding on until both his mum and Louisa had left the annexe. I had been watching him carefully now, and once his smile left his face I realized I didn’t like the look of him. His skin held a faint blotchiness, he had winced twice when he thought no one was looking, and I could see even from here that he had goosebumps. A little alarm bell had started to sound, distant but shrill, inside my head.
    ‘You feeling okay, Will?’
    ‘I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’
    ‘You want to tell me where it hurts?’
    He looked a bit resigned then, as if he knew I saw straight through him. We had worked together a long time.
    ‘Okay. Bit of a headache. And … um … I need my tubes changed. Probably quite sharpish.’
    I had transferred him from his chair on to his bed and now I began getting the equipment together. ‘What time did Lou do them this morning?’
    ‘She didn’t.’ He winced. And he looked a little guilty. ‘Or last night.’
    ‘What?’
    I took his pulse, and grabbed the blood pressure equipment. Sure enough, it was sky high. When I put my hand on his forehead it came away with a faint sheen of sweat. I went for the medicine cabinet, and crushed some vasodilator drugs. I gave them to him in water, making sure he drank every last bit. Then I propped him up, placing his legs over the side of the bed, and I changed his tubes swiftly, watching him all the while.
    ‘AD?’
    ‘Yeah. Not your most sensible move, Will.’
    Autonomic dysreflexia was pretty much our worst nightmare. It was Will’s body’s massive overreaction against pain, discomfort – or, say, an un-emptied catheter – his damaged nervous system’s vain and misguided attempt to stay in control. It could come out of nowhere and send his body into meltdown. He looked pale, his breathing laboured.
    ‘How’s your skin?’
    ‘Bit prickly.’
    ‘Sight?’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Aw, man. You think we need help?’
    ‘Give me ten minutes, Nathan. I’m sure you’ve done everything we need. Give me ten minutes.’
    He closed his eyes. I checked his blood pressure again, wondering how long I should leave it before calling an ambulance. AD scared the hell