Me Before You (17 page)

The doors closed with an expensive, muted clunk and suddenly there was silence. The car smelt of leather, and there was nothing in it apart from me and Mrs Traynor. No sweet wrappers, mud, lost toys or perfumed dangly things to disguise the smell of the carton of milk that had been dropped in there three months earlier.

‘I thought you and Will got on well.’ She spoke as if addressing someone straight ahead of her. When I didn’t speak, she said, ‘Is there a problem with the money?’

‘No.’

‘Do you need a longer lunch break? I am conscious that it’s rather short. I could ask Nathan if he would –’

‘It’s not the hours. Or the money.’

‘Then –’

‘I don’t really want to –’

‘Look, you cannot hand in your notice with immediate effect and expect me not even to ask what on earth’s the matter.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I overheard you. You and your daughter. Last night. And I don’t want to … I don’t want to be part of it.’

‘Ah.’

We sat in silence. Mr Grisham was now trying to bash his way in through the front door, and Mrs Grisham was busy hurling anything she could locate through the window down on to his head. The choice of projectile missiles – loo roll, tampon boxes, toilet brush, shampoo bottles – suggested she was now in the bathroom.

‘Please, don’t leave,’ Mrs Traynor said, quietly. ‘Will is comfortable with you. More so than he’s been for some time. I … it would be very hard for us to replicate that with someone else.’

‘But you’re … you’re going to take him to that place where people commit suicide. Dignitas.’

‘No. I am going to do everything I can to ensure he doesn’t do that.’

‘Like what – praying?’

She gave me what my mother would have termed an ‘old-fashioned’ look. ‘You must know by now that if Will decides to make himself unreachable, there is little anybody can do about it.’

‘I worked it all out,’ I said. ‘I’m basically there just to make sure he doesn’t cheat and do it before his six months are up. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘No. That’s not it.’

‘Which is why you didn’t care about my qualifications.’

‘I thought you were bright and cheerful and different. You didn’t look like a nurse. You didn’t behave … like any of the others. I thought … I thought you might cheer him
up. And you do – you
do
cheer him up, Louisa. Seeing him without that awful beard yesterday … you seem to be one of the few people who are able to get through to him.’

The bedding came out of the window. It came down in a ball, the sheets extending themselves briefly and gracefully before they hit the ground. Two children picked one up and began running around the little garden with it over their heads.

‘Don’t you think it would have been fair to mention that I was basically on suicide watch?’

The sigh Camilla Traynor gave was the sound of someone forced to explain something politely to an imbecile. I wondered if she knew that everything she said made the other person feel like an idiot. I wondered if it was something she’d actually cultivated deliberately. I didn’t think I could ever manage to make someone feel inferior.

‘That might have been the case when we first met you … but I’m confident Will is going to stick to his word. He has promised me six months, and that’s what I’ll get. We need this time, Louisa. We need this time to give him the idea of there being some
possibility
. I was hoping it might plant the idea that there is a life he could enjoy, even if it wasn’t the life he had planned.’

‘But it’s all lies. You’ve lied to me and you’re all lying to each other.’

She didn’t seem to hear me. She turned to face me, pulling a chequebook from her handbag, a pen ready in her hand.

‘Look, what do you want? I will double your money. Tell me how much you want.’

‘I don’t want your money.’

‘A car. Some benefits. Bonuses –’

‘No –’

‘Then … what can I do that might change your mind?’

‘I’m sorry. I just don’t –’

I made to get out of the car. Her hand shot out. It sat there on my arm, strange and radioactive. We both stared at it.

‘You signed a contract, Miss Clark,’ she said. ‘You signed a contract where you promised to work for us for six months. By my calculations you have only done two. I am simply requiring you to fulfil your contractual obligations.’

Her voice had become brittle. I looked down at Mrs Traynor’s hand and saw that it was trembling.

She swallowed. ‘Please.’

My parents were watching from the porch. I could see them, mugs poised in their hands, the only two people facing away from the theatre next door. They turned away awkwardly when they saw that I had noticed them. Dad, I realized, was wearing the tartan slippers with the paint splodges.

I pushed the handle of the door. ‘Mrs Traynor, I really can’t sit by and watch … it’s too weird. I don’t want to be part of this.’

‘Just think about it. Tomorrow is Good Friday – I’ll tell Will you have a family commitment if you really just need some time. Take the Bank Holiday weekend to think about it. But please. Come back. Come back and help him.’

I walked back into the house without looking back. I sat in the living room, staring at the television while my parents followed me in, exchanged glances and pretended not to be watching me.

It was almost eleven minutes before I finally heard Mrs Traynor’s car start up and drive away.

My sister confronted me within five minutes of arriving home, thundering up the stairs and throwing open the door of my room.

‘Yes, do come in,’ I said. I was lying on the bed, my legs stretched up the wall, staring at the ceiling. I was wearing tights and blue sequinned shorts, which now looped unattractively around the tops of my legs.

Katrina stood in the doorway. ‘Is it true?’

‘That Dympna Grisham has finally thrown out her cheating no-good philandering husband and –’

‘Don’t be smart. About your job.’

I traced the pattern of the wallpaper with my big toe. ‘Yes, I handed in my notice. Yes, I know Mum and Dad are not too happy about it. Yes, yes, yes to whatever it is you’re going to throw at me.’

She closed the door carefully behind her, then sat down heavily on the end of my bed and swore lustily. ‘I don’t bloody believe you.’

She shoved my legs so that I slid down the wall, ending up almost lying on the bed. I pushed myself upright. ‘Ow.’

Her face was puce. ‘I don’t believe you. Mum’s in bits downstairs. Dad’s pretending not to be, but he is too. What are they supposed to do about money? You know Dad’s already panicking about work. Why the hell would you throw away a perfectly good job?’

‘Don’t lecture me, Treen.’

‘Well, someone’s got to! You’re never going to get
anything like that money anywhere else. And how’s it going to look on your CV?’

‘Oh, don’t pretend this is about anything other than you and what you want.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t care what I do, as long as you can still go and resurrect your high-flying career. You just need me there propping up the family funds and providing the bloody childcare. Sod everyone else.’ I knew I sounded mean and nasty but I couldn’t help myself. It was my sister’s plight that had got us into this mess, after all. Years of resentment began to ooze out of me. ‘We’ve all got to stick at jobs we hate just so that little Katrina can fulfil her bloody ambitions.’

‘It is not
about
me.’

‘No?’

‘No, it’s about you not being able to stick at the one decent job you’ve been offered in months.’

‘You know
nothing
about my job, okay?’

‘I know it paid well above the minimum wage. Which is all I need to know about it.’

‘Not everything in life is about the money, you know.’

‘Yes? You go downstairs and tell Mum and Dad that.’

‘Don’t you dare bloody lecture me about money when you haven’t paid a sodding thing towards this house for years.’

‘You know I can’t afford much because of Thomas.’

I began to shove my sister out of the door. I can’t remember the last time I actually laid a hand on her, but right then I wanted to punch someone quite badly and I was afraid of what I would do if she stayed there in front
of me. ‘Just piss off, Treen. Okay? Just piss off and leave me alone.’

I slammed the door in my sister’s face. And when I finally heard her walking slowly back down the stairs, I chose not to think about what she would say to my parents, about the way they would all treat this as further evidence of my catastrophic inability to do anything of any worth. I chose not to think about Syed at the Job Centre and how I would explain my reasons for leaving this most well paid of menial jobs. I chose not to think about the chicken factory and how somewhere, deep within its bowels, there was probably a set of plastic overalls, and a hygiene cap with my name still on it.

I lay back and I thought about Will. I thought about his anger and his sadness. I thought about what his mother had said – that I was one of the only people able to get through to him. I thought about him trying not to laugh at the ‘Molahonkey Song’ on a night when the snow drifted gold past the window. I thought about the warm skin and soft hair and hands of someone living, someone who was far cleverer and funnier than I would ever be and who still couldn’t see a better future than to obliterate himself. And finally, my head pressed into the pillow, I cried, because my life suddenly seemed so much darker and more complicated than I could ever have imagined, and I wished I could go back, back to when my biggest worry was whether Frank and I had ordered in enough Chelsea buns.

There was a knock on the door.

I blew my nose. ‘Piss off, Katrina.’

‘I’m sorry.’

I stared at the door.

Her voice was muffled, as if her lips were close up to the keyhole. ‘I’ve got wine. Look, let me in for God’s sake, or Mum will hear me. I’ve got two Bob the Builder mugs stuck up my jumper, and you know how she gets about us drinking upstairs.’

I climbed off the bed and opened the door.

She glanced up at my tear-stained face, and swiftly closed the bedroom door behind her. ‘Okay,’ she said, wrenching off the screw top and pouring me a mug of wine, ‘what really happened?’

I looked at my sister hard. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Not Dad. Especially not Mum.’

Then I told her.

I had to tell someone

There were many ways in which I disliked my sister. A few years ago I could have shown you whole scribbled lists I had written on that very topic. I hated her for the fact that she got thick, straight hair, while mine breaks off if it grows beyond my shoulders. I hated her for the fact that you can never tell her anything that she doesn’t already know. I hated the fact that for my whole school career teachers insisted on telling me in hushed tones how bright she was, as if her brilliance wouldn’t mean that by default I lived in a permanent shadow. I hated her for the fact that at the age of twenty-six I lived in a box room in a semi-detached house just so she could have her illegitimate son in with her in the bigger bedroom. But every now and then I was very glad indeed that she was my sister.

Because Katrina didn’t shriek in horror. She didn’t look
shocked, or insist that I tell Mum and Dad. She didn’t once tell me I’d done the wrong thing by walking away.

She took a huge swig of her drink. ‘Jeez.’

‘Exactly.’

‘It’s legal as well. It’s not as if they can stop him.’

‘I know.’

‘Fuck. I can’t even get my head around it.’

We had downed two glasses just in the telling of it, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. ‘I hate the thought of leaving him. But I can’t be part of this, Treen. I can’t.’

‘Mmm.’ She was thinking. My sister actually has a ‘thinking face’. It makes people wait before speaking to her. Dad says my thinking face makes it look like I want to go to the loo.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I said.

She looked up at me, her face suddenly brightening. ‘It’s simple.’

‘Simple.’

She poured us another glass each. ‘Oops. We seem to have finished this already. Yes. Simple. They’ve got money, right?’

‘I don’t want their money. She offered me a raise. It’s not the point.’

‘Shut up. Not for you, idiot girl. They’ll have their own money. And he’s probably got a shedload of insurance from the accident. Well, you tell them that you want a budget and then you use that money, and you use the – what was it? – four months you’ve got left. And you change Will Traynor’s mind.’

‘What?’

‘You change his mind. You said he spends most of his
time indoors, right? Well, start with something small, then once you’ve got him out and about again, you think of every fabulous thing you could do for him, everything that might make him want to live – adventures, foreign travel, swimming with dolphins, whatever – and then you do it. I can help you. I’ll look things up on the internet at the library. I bet we could come up with some brilliant things for him to do. Things that would really make him happy.’

I stared at her.

‘Katrina –’

‘Yeah. I know.’ She grinned, as I started to smile. ‘I’m a fucking genius.’

They looked a bit surprised. Actually, that’s an understatement. Mrs Traynor looked stunned, and then a bit disconcerted, and then her whole face closed off. Her daughter, curled up next to her on the sofa, just glowered – the kind of face Mum used to warn me would stick in place if the wind changed. It wasn’t quite the enthusiastic response I’d been hoping for.

‘But what is it you actually want to do?’

‘I don’t know yet. My sister is good at researching stuff. She’s trying to find out what’s possible for quadriplegics. But I really wanted to find out from you whether you would be willing to go with it.’

We were in their drawing room. It was the same room I had been interviewed in, except this time Mrs Traynor and her daughter were perched on the sofa, their slobbery old dog between them. Mr Traynor was standing by the fire. I was wearing my French peasant’s jacket in indigo denim, a minidress and a pair of army boots. With hindsight, I realized, I could have picked a more professional-looking uniform in which to outline my plan.