Me Before You(60)
Author: Jojo Moyes

‘He finally looked like Leo again.’

15

‘So come on, then, Clark. What exciting events have you got planned for this evening?’

We were in the garden. Nathan was doing Will’s physio, gently moving his knees up and down towards his chest, while Will lay on a blanket, his face turned to the sun, his arms spread out as though he was sunbathing. I sat on the grass alongside them and ate my sandwiches. I rarely went out at lunchtime any more.

‘Why?’

‘Curiosity. I’m interested in how you spend your time when you’re not here.’

‘Well … tonight it’s a quick bout of advanced martial arts, then a helicopter is flying me to Monte Carlo for supper. And then I might take in a cocktail in Cannes on the way home. If you look up at around – ooh – around 2am, I’ll give you a wave on my way over,’ I said. I peeled the two sides of my sandwich apart, checking the filling. ‘I’m probably finishing my book.’

Will glanced up at Nathan. ‘Tenner,’ he said, grinning.

Nathan reached into his pocket. ‘Every time,’ he said.

I stared at them. ‘Every time what?’ I said, as Nathan put the money into Will’s hand.

‘He said you’d be reading a book. I said you’d be watching telly. He always wins.’

My sandwich stilled at my lips. ‘Always? You’ve been betting on how boring my life is?’

‘That’s not a word we would use,’ Will said. The faintly guilty look in his eyes told me otherwise.

I sat up straight. ‘Let me get this straight. You two are betting actual money that on a Friday night I would either be at home reading a book or watching television?’

‘No,’ said Will. ‘I had each way on you seeing Running Man down at the track.’

Nathan released Will’s leg. He pulled Will’s arm straight and began massaging it from the wrist up.

‘What if I said I was actually doing something completely different?’

‘But you never do,’ Nathan said.

‘Actually, I’ll have that.’ I plucked the tenner from Will’s hand. ‘Because tonight you’re wrong.’

‘You said you were going to read your book!’ he protested.

‘Now I have this,’ I said, brandishing the ten-pound note. ‘I’ll be going to the pictures. So there. Law of unintended consequences, or whatever it is you call it.’

I stood up, pocketed the money, and shoved the remains of my lunch into its brown paper bag. I was smiling as I walked away from them but, weirdly, and for no reason that I could immediately understand, my eyes were prickling with tears.

I had spent an hour working on the calendar before coming to Granta House that morning. Some days I just sat and stared at it from my bed, magic marker in hand, trying to work out what I could take Will to. I wasn’t yet convinced that I could get Will to go much further afield, and even with Nathan’s help the thought of an overnight visit seemed daunting.

I scanned the local paper, glancing at football matches and village fêtes, but was afraid after the racing debacle that Will’s chair might get stuck in the grass. I was concerned that crowds might leave him feeling exposed. I had to rule out all horse-related activities, which in an area like ours meant a surprising amount of outdoor stuff. I knew he wouldn’t want to watch Patrick running, and cricket and rugby left him cold. Some days I felt crippled by my own inability to think up new ideas.

Perhaps Will and Nathan were right. Perhaps I was boring. Perhaps I was the least well-equipped person in the world to try to come up with things that might inflame Will’s appetite for life.

A book, or the television.

Put like that, it was hard to believe any differently.

After Nathan left, Will found me in the kitchen. I was sitting at the small table, peeling potatoes for his evening meal, and didn’t look up when he positioned his wheelchair in the doorway. He watched me long enough for my ears to turn pink with the scrutiny.

‘You know,’ I said, finally, ‘I could have been horrible to you back there. I could have pointed out that you do nothing either.’

‘I’m not sure Nathan would have offered particularly good odds on me going out dancing,’ Will said.

‘I know it’s a joke,’ I continued, discarding a long piece of potato peel. ‘But you just made me feel really crap. If you were going to bet on my boring life, did you have to make me aware of it? Couldn’t you and Nathan just have had it as some kind of private joke?’

He didn’t say anything for a bit. When I finally looked up, he was watching me. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘You don’t look sorry.’

‘Well … okay … maybe I wanted you to hear it. I wanted you to think about what you’re doing.’

‘What, how I’m letting my life slip by … ?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘God, Will. I wish you’d stop telling me what to do. What if I like watching television? What if I don’t want to do much else other than read a book?’ My voice had become shrill. ‘What if I’m tired when I get home? What if I don’t need to fill my days with frenetic activity?’

‘But one day you might wish you had,’ he said, quietly. ‘Do you know what I would do if I were you?’

I put down my peeler. ‘I suspect you’re going to tell me.’

‘Yes. And I’m completely unembarrassed about telling you. I’d be doing night school. I’d be training as a seamstress or a fashion designer or whatever it is that taps into what you really love.’ He gestured at my minidress, a Sixties-inspired Pucci-type dress, made with fabric that had once been a pair of Granddad’s curtains.

The first time Dad had seen it he had pointed at me and yelled, ‘Hey, Lou, pull yourself together!’ It had taken him a full five minutes to stop laughing.

‘I’d be finding out what I could do that didn’t cost much – keep-fit classes, swimming, volunteering, whatever. I’d be teaching myself music or going for long walks with somebody else’s dog, or –’

‘Okay, okay, I get the message,’ I said, irritably. ‘But I’m not you, Will.’

‘Luckily for you.’

We sat there for a bit. Will wheeled himself in, and raised the height of his chair so that we faced each other over the table.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘So what did you do after work? That was so valuable?’