Me Before You: A Novel

knife.
    Thomas stared at her, open-mouthed, so that I had to haul him on to my lap and distract him so that he didn’t get upset too. And while I fiddled with bits of potato and talking peas and made silly voices, she told them.
    She told them everything – about Will and the six-month contract and what had happened when they went to Mauritius. As she spoke, Mum’s hands went to her mouth. Granddad looked solemn. The chicken grew cold, the gravy congealing in its boat.
    Dad shook his head in disbelief. And then, as my sister detailed her flight home from the Indian Ocean, her voice dropping to a whisper as she spoke of her last words to Mrs Traynor, he pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked slowly around the table and he took her in his arms, like he had when we were little. He stood there and held her really, really tightly to him.
    ‘Oh Jesus Christ, the poor fella. And poor you. Oh Jesus.’
    I’m not sure I ever saw Dad look so shocked.
    ‘What a bloody mess.’
    ‘You went through all this? Without saying anything? And all we got was a postcard about scuba diving?’ My mother was incredulous. ‘We thought you were having the holiday of a lifetime.’
    ‘I wasn’t alone. Treena knew,’ she said, looking at me. ‘Treena was great.’
    ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said, hugging Thomas. He hadlost interest in the conversation now that Mum had put an open tin of Celebrations in front of him. ‘I was just an ear. You did the lot. You came up with all the ideas.’
    ‘And some ideas they turned out to be.’ She leant against Dad, sounding bereft.
    Dad tilted her chin so that she had to look at him. ‘But you did everything you could.’
    ‘And I failed.’
    ‘Who says you failed?’ Dad stroked her hair back from her face. His expression was tender. ‘I’m just thinking of what I know about Will Traynor, what I know about men like him. And I’ll say one thing to you. I’m not sure anyone in the world was ever going to persuade that man once he’d set his mind to something. He’s who he is. You can’t make people change who they are.’
    ‘But his parents! They can’t let him kill himself,’ said Mum. ‘What kind of people are they?’
    ‘They’re normal people, Mum. Mrs Traynor just doesn’t know what else she can do.’
    ‘Well, not bloody taking him to this clinic would be a start.’ Mum was angry. Two points of colour had risen to her cheekbones. ‘I would fight for you two, for Thomas, until my dying breath.’
    ‘Even if he’d already tried to kill himself?’ I said. ‘In really grim ways?’
    ‘He’s ill, Katrina. He’s depressed. People who are vulnerable should not be given the chance to do something that they’ll … ’ She tailed off in mute fury and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. ‘That woman must be heartless.
Heartless
. And to think they got Louisa involved in all this. She’s a magistrate, for goodness’ sake. You’d think a magistratewould know what was right or wrong. Of all people. I’ve a good mind to head down there now and bring him back here.’
    ‘It’s complicated, Mum.’
    ‘No. It’s not. He’s vulnerable and there is no way on earth she should entertain the thought of it. I’m shocked. That poor man. That
poor
man.’ She got up from the table, taking the remains of the chicken with her, and stalked out to the kitchen.
    Louisa watched her go, her expression a little stunned. Mum was never angry. I think the last time we heard her raise her voice was 1993.
    Dad shook his head, his mind apparently elsewhere. ‘I’ve just thought – no wonder I haven’t seen Mr Traynor. I wondered where he was. I assumed they were all off on some family holiday.’
    ‘They’ve … they’ve gone?’
    ‘He’s not been in these last two days.’
    Lou sat back down and slumped in her chair.
    ‘Oh shit,’ I said, and then clamped my hands around Thomas’s ears.
    ‘It’s tomorrow.’
    Lou looked at me, and I glanced up at the calendar on the wall.
    ‘The thirteenth of August. It’s tomorrow.’
    Lou did nothing that last day. She was up before me, staring out of the kitchen window. It rained, and then it cleared, and then it rained again. She lay on the sofa with Granddad, and she drank the tea that Mum made her, and every half an hour or so I watched her gaze slide silentlytowards the mantelpiece and check the clock. It was awful to watch. I took Thomas swimming and I tried to make her come with us. I said Mum would mind him if