Me Before You: A Novel

would want to oversee every aspect of his treatment.
    ‘She used to,’ Will said. ‘Now we have an agreement.’
    ‘Is Nathan coming?’
    I was kneeling in front of him. I had been so nervous that I had dropped some of his lunch down his lap and was now trying in vain to mop it up, so that a good patch of his trousers was sopping wet. Will hadn’t said anything, except to tell me to please stop apologizing, but it hadn’t helped my general sense of jitteriness.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘No reason.’ I didn’t want him to know how fearful I felt. I had spent much of that morning – time I usually spent cleaning – reading and rereading the instruction manual for the chairlift but I was still dreading the moment when I was solely responsible for lifting him two feet into the air.
    ‘Come on, Clark. What’s the problem?’
    ‘Okay. I just … I just thought it would be easier first time if there was someone else there who knew the ropes.’
    ‘As opposed to me,’ he said.
    ‘That’s not what I meant.’
    ‘Because I can’t possibly be expected to know anything about my own care?’
    ‘Do you operate the chairlift?’ I said, baldly. ‘You can tell me exactly what to do, can you?’
    He watched me, his gaze level. If he had been spoiling for a fight, he appeared to change his mind. ‘Fair point. Yes, he’s coming. He’s a useful extra pair of hands. Plus I thought you’d work yourself into less of a state if you had him there.’
    ‘I’m not in a state,’ I protested.
    ‘Evidently.’ He glanced down at his lap, which I was still mopping with a cloth. I had got the pasta sauce off, but he was soaked. ‘So, am I going as an incontinent?’
    ‘I’m not finished.’ I plugged in the hairdryer and directed the nozzle towards his crotch.
    As the hot air blasted on to his trousers he raised his eyebrows.
    ‘Yes, well,’ I said. ‘It’s not exactly what I expected to be doing on a Friday afternoon either.’
    ‘You really are tense, aren’t you?’
    I could feel him studying me.
    ‘Oh, lighten up, Clark. I’m the one having scalding hot air directed at my genitals.’
    I didn’t respond. I heard his voice over the roar of the hairdryer.
    ‘Come on, what’s the worst that could happen – I end up in a wheelchair?’
    It may sound stupid, but I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the closest Will had come to actually trying to make me feel better.
    The car looked like a normal people carrier from outside, but when the rear passenger door was unlocked a ramp descended from the side and lowered to the ground. With Nathan looking on, I guided Will’s outside chair (he had aseparate one for travelling) squarely on to the ramp, checked the electrical lock-down brake, and programmed it to slowly lift him up into the car. Nathan slid into the other passenger seat, belted him and secured the wheels. Trying to stop my hands from trembling, I released the handbrake and drove slowly down the drive towards the hospital.
    Away from home, Will appeared to shrink a little. It was chilly outside, and Nathan and I had bundled him up into his scarf and thick coat, but still he grew quieter, his jaw set, somehow diminished by the greater space of his surroundings. Every time I looked into my rear-view mirror (which was often – I was terrified even with Nathan there that somehow the chair would break loose from its moorings) he was gazing out of the window, his expression impenetrable. Even when I stalled or braked too hard, which I did several times, he just winced a little and waited while I sorted myself out.
    By the time we reached the hospital I had actually broken out into a fine sweat. I drove around the hospital car park three times, too afraid to reverse into any but the largest of spaces, until I could sense that the two men were beginning 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 hewheeled 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