Me Before You: A Novel Read Free

his hands on his apron, had come out from behind the hotplate and turned the little Closed sign to face the street.
    ‘Now now, Frank, I’ve told you before. Extras are not included in the minimum wage.’ Frank was, as Dad put it, as queer as a blue gnu. I looked up.
    He wasn’t smiling.
    ‘Uh-oh. I didn’t put salt in the sugar cellars again, did I?’
    He was twisting a tea towel between his two hands and looked more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him. I wondered, briefly, whether someone had complained about me. And then he motioned to me to sit down.
    ‘Sorry, Louisa,’ he said, after he had told me. ‘But I’m going back to Australia. My Dad’s not too good, and it looks like the castle is definitely going to start doing its own refreshments. The writing’s on the wall.’
    I think I sat there with my mouth actually hanging open. And then Frank had handed me the envelope, and answered my next question before it left my lips. ‘I know we never had, you know, a formal contract or anything, but I wanted to look after you. There’s three months’ money in there. We close tomorrow.’
    ‘Three months!’ Dad exploded, as my mother thrust a cup of sweet tea into my hands. ‘Well, that’s big of him, given she’s worked like a ruddy Trojan in that place for the last six years.’
    ‘Bernard.’ Mum shot him a warning look, nodding towards Thomas. My parents minded him after school every day until Treena finished work.
    ‘What the hell is she supposed to do now? He could have given her more than a day’s bloody notice.’
    ‘Well … she’ll just have to get another job.’
    ‘There are no bloody jobs, Josie. You know that as well as I do. We’re in the middle of a bloody recession.’
    Mum shut her eyes for a moment, as if composing herself before she spoke. ‘She’s a bright girl. She’ll find herself something. She’s got a solid employment record, hasn’t she? Frank will give her a good reference.’
    ‘Oh, fecking marvellous … “Louisa Clark is very good at buttering toast, and a dab hand with the old teapot.”’
    ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.’
    ‘I’m just saying.’
    I knew the real reason for Dad’s anxiety. They relied on my wages. Treena earned next to nothing at the flower shop. Mum couldn’t work, as she had to look after Granddad, and Granddad’s pension amounted to almost nothing. Dad lived in a constant state of anxiety about his job at the furniture factory. His boss had been muttering about possible redundancies for months. There were murmurings at home about debts and the juggling of credit cards. Dad had had his car written off by an uninsured driver two years previously, and somehow this had been enough for the whole teetering edifice that was my parents’ finances to finally collapse. My modest wages had been a little bedrock of housekeeping money, enough to help see the family through from week to week.
    ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She can head down to the Job Centre tomorrow and see what’s on offer. She’s got enough to get by for now.’ They spoke as if I weren’t there. ‘And she’s smart. You’re smart, aren’t you, love? Perhaps she could do a typing course. Go into office work.’
    I sat there, as my parents discussed what other jobs my limited qualifications might entitle me to. Factory work,machinist, roll butterer. For the first time that afternoon I wanted to cry. Thomas watched me with big, round eyes, and silently handed me half a soggy biscuit.
    ‘Thanks, Tommo,’ I mouthed silently, and ate it.
    He was down at the athletics club, as I had known he would be. Mondays to Thursdays, regular as a station timetable, Patrick was there in the gym or running in circles around the floodlit track. I made my way down the steps, hugging myself against the cold, and walked slowly out on to the track, waving as he came close enough to see who it was.
    ‘Run with me,’ he puffed, as he got closer. His breath came in pale