Me Before You
Page 120

She stared at me, wearing that look of mute fury she wears when she knows I am right and she can’t say anything back. Thomas appeared beside us now and pulled at my hand.
‘Mum … you said bum.’
My sister was still glaring at me. But I could see her thinking.
I turned to my son. ‘No, sweetheart, I said bun. We’re going to go home for tea now – aren’t we, Lou? – and see if we can have some buns. And then, while Granny gives you a bath, I’m going to help Auntie Lou do her homework.’
I went to the library the next day, and Mum looked after Thomas, so I saw Lou off on the bus and knew I wouldn’t see her again till teatime. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for the interview, but from the moment I left her I didn’t actually give her another thought.
It might sound a bit selfish, but I don’t like getting behind with my coursework, and it was a bit of a relief to have a break from Lou’s misery. Being around someone that depressed is a bit of a drain. You might feel sorry for them, but you can’t help wanting to tell them to pull themselves together too. I shoved my family, my sister, the epic mess she had got herself into, into a mental file, shut the drawer, and focused my attention on VAT exemptions. I got the second-highest marks in my year for Accountancy 1 and there was no way on earth I was dropping back just because of the vagaries of HMRC’s flat rate system.
I got home around a quarter to six, put my files on the hall chair, and they were all lurking around the kitchen table already, while Mum began to serve up. Thomas jumped on me, winding his legs around my waist, and I kissed him, breathing in his lovely yeasty little-boy smell.
‘Sit down, sit down,’ Mum said. ‘Dad’s only just in.’
‘How’d you get on with your books?’ Dad said, hanging his jacket on the back of the chair. He always referred to them as ‘my books’. Like they had a life of their own and had to be wrangled into order.
‘Good, thanks. I’m three-quarters of the way through my Accountancy 2 module. And then tomorrow I’m on corporate law.’ I peeled Thomas from me and put him down on the chair next to me, one hand resting in his soft hair.
‘Hear that, Josie? Corporate law.’ Dad stole a potato from the dish and stuffed it into his mouth before Mum could see. He said it like he relished the sound of it. I suppose he probably did. We chatted for a bit about the kinds of things my module involved. Then we talked about Dad’s job – mostly about how the tourists broke everything. You wouldn’t believe the maintenance, apparently. Even the wooden posts at the car park gateway needed replacing every few weeks because the eejits couldn’t drive a car through a twelve-foot gap. Personally, I would have put a surcharge on the ticket price to cover it – but that’s just me.
Mum finished serving up, and finally sat down. Thomas ate with his fingers while he thought nobody noticed and said bum under his breath with a secret smile, and Granddad ate with his gaze tilted upwards, as if he were actually thinking about something else entirely. I glanced over at Lou. She was gazing at her plate, pushing the roast chicken around as if trying to disguise it. Uh-oh, I thought.
‘You not hungry, love?’ said Mum, following the line of my gaze.
‘Not very,’ she said.
‘It is very warm for chicken,’ Mum conceded. ‘I just thought you needed perking up a bit.’
‘So … you going to tell us how you got on at this interview?’ Dad’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
‘Oh, that.’ She looked distracted, as if he had just dredged up something she did five years ago.
‘Yes, that.’
She speared a tiny piece of chicken. ‘It was okay.’
Dad glanced at me.
I gave a tiny shrug. ‘Just okay? They must have given you some idea how you did.’
‘I got it.’
‘What?’
She was still looking down at her plate. I stopped chewing.
‘They said I was exactly the kind of applicant they were looking for. I’ve got to do some kind of foundation course, which takes a year, and then I can convert it.’
Dad sat back in his chair. ‘That’s fantastic news.’
Mum reached over and patted her shoulder. ‘Oh, well done, love. That’s brilliant.’
‘Not really. I don’t think I can afford four years of study.’
‘Don’t you worry about that just now. Really. Look how well Treena’s managing. Hey –’ he nudged her ‘– we’ll find a way. We always find a way, don’t we?’ Dad beamed at us both. ‘I think everything’s turning around for us, now, girls. I think this is going to be a good time for this family.’
And then, out of nowhere, she burst into tears. Real tears. She cried like Thomas cries, wailing, all snot and tears and not caring who hears, her sobs breaking through the silence of the little room like a 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.