Me Before You

I heard footsteps, and stooped over the basket of logs, as if I had only just come in. I heard them in the corridor and then Alicia appeared in front of me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she were about to cry.

‘Can I use the bathroom?’ she said, her voice thick and choked.

I slowly lifted a finger and pointed mutely in its direction.

She looked at me hard then, and I realized that what I felt probably showed on my face. I have never been much good at hiding my feelings.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, after a pause. ‘But I did try. I really tried. For months. And he just pushed me away.’ Her jaw was rigid, her expression oddly furious. ‘He actually didn’t want me here. He made that very clear.’

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

‘It’s really none of my business,’ I said, eventually.

We both stood facing each other.

‘You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped,’ she said.

And then she was gone.

I waited a couple of minutes, listening for the sound of their car disappearing down the drive, and then I went into the kitchen. I stood there and boiled the kettle even though I didn’t want a cup of tea. I flicked through a magazine that I had already read. Finally, I went back into the corridor and, with a grunt, picked up the log basket and hauled it into the living room, bumping it slightly on the door before I entered so that Will would know I was coming.

‘I was wondering if you wanted me to –’ I began.

But there was nobody there.

The room was empty.

It was then that I heard the crash. I ran out into the corridor just in time to hear another, followed by the sound of splintering glass. It was coming from Will’s bedroom. Oh God, please don’t let him have hurt himself. I panicked – Mrs Traynor’s warning drilled through my head. I had left him for more than fifteen minutes.

I ran down the corridor, slid to a halt in the doorway and stood, both hands gripping the door frame. Will was in the middle of the room, upright in his chair, a walking stick balanced across the armrests, so that it jutted eighteen inches to his left – a jousting stick. There was not a single photograph left on the long shelves; the expensive frames lay in pieces all over the floor, the carpet studded with glittering shards of glass. His lap was dusted with bits of glass and splintered wood frames. I took in the scene of destruction, feeling my heart rate slowly subside as I grasped that he was unhurt. Will was breathing hard, as if whatever he had done had cost him some effort.

His chair turned, crunching slightly on the glass. His eyes met mine. They were infinitely weary. They dared me to offer him sympathy.

I looked down at his lap, and then at the floor around him. I could just make out the picture of him and Alicia, her face now obscured by a bent silver frame, amongst the other casualties.

I swallowed, staring at it, and slowly lifted my eyes to his. Those few seconds were the longest I could remember.

‘Can that thing get a puncture?’ I said, finally, nodding at his wheelchair. ‘Because I have no idea where I would put the jack.’

His eyes widened. Just for a moment, I thought I had really blown it. But the faintest flicker of a smile passed across his face.

‘Look, don’t move,’ I said. ‘I’ll get the vacuum cleaner.’

I heard the walking stick drop to the floor. As I left the room, I thought I might have heard him say sorry.

The Kings Head was always busy on a Thursday evening, and in the corner of the snug it was even busier. I sat squashed between Patrick and a man whose name appeared to be the Rutter, staring periodically at the horse brasses pinned to the oak beams above my head and the photographs of the castle that punctuated the joists, and tried to look even vaguely interested in the talk around me, which seemed to revolve chiefly around body fat ratios and carb loading.

I had always thought the fortnightly meetings of the Hailsbury Triathlon Terrors must be a publican’s worst nightmare. I was the only one drinking alcohol, and my solitary packet of crisps sat crumpled and empty on the table. Everyone else sipped at mineral water, or checked the sweetener ratios on their Diet Cokes. When they, finally, ordered food there wouldn’t be a salad that was allowed to brush a leaf against a full-fat dressing, or a piece of chicken that still sported its skin. I often ordered chips, just so that I could watch them all pretend they didn’t want one.

‘Phil hit the wall about forty miles in. He said he actually heard voices. Feet like lead. He had that zombie face, you know?’

‘I got some of those new Japanese balancing trainers fitted. Shaved fifteen minutes off my ten-mile timings.’

‘Don’t travel with a soft bike bag. Nigel arrived at tricamp with it looking like a ruddy coat hanger.’