me before you, 03
3
‘This is the annexe. It used to be stables, but we realized it would suit Will rather
better than the house as it’s all on one floor. This is the spare room so that
Nathan can stay over if necessary. We needed someone quite often in the early
days.’
Mrs Traynor walked briskly down the corridor, gesturing from one doorway to
the other, without looking back, her high heels clacking on the flagstones. There
seemed to be an expectation that I would keep up.
The keys to the car are here. I’ve put you on our insurance. I’m trusting the
details you gave me were correct. Nathan should be able to show you how the
ramp works. All you have to do is help Will position properly and the vehicle
will do the rest. Although ... he’s not desperately keen to go anywhere at the
moment.’
‘It is a bit chilly out,’ I said.
Mrs Traynor didn’t seem to hear me.
‘You can make yourself tea and coffee in the kitchen. I keep the cupboards
stocked. The bathroom is through here -’
She opened the door and I stared at the white metal and plastic hoist that
crouched over the bath. There was an open wet area under the shower, with a
folded wheelchair beside it. In the corner a glass-fronted cabinet revealed neat
stacks of shrink-wrapped bales. I couldn’t see what they were from here, but it
all gave off a faint scent of disinfectant.
Mrs Traynor closed the door, and turned briefly to face me. ‘I should reiterate,
it is very important that Will has someone with him all the time. A previous carer
disappeared for several hours once to get her car fixed, and Will... injured
himself in her absence.’ She swallowed, as if still traumatized by the memory.
‘I won’t go anywhere.’
better than the house as it’s all on one floor. This is the spare room so that
Nathan can stay over if necessary. We needed someone quite often in the early
days.’
Mrs Traynor walked briskly down the corridor, gesturing from one doorway to
the other, without looking back, her high heels clacking on the flagstones. There
seemed to be an expectation that I would keep up.
The keys to the car are here. I’ve put you on our insurance. I’m trusting the
details you gave me were correct. Nathan should be able to show you how the
ramp works. All you have to do is help Will position properly and the vehicle
will do the rest. Although ... he’s not desperately keen to go anywhere at the
moment.’
‘It is a bit chilly out,’ I said.
Mrs Traynor didn’t seem to hear me.
‘You can make yourself tea and coffee in the kitchen. I keep the cupboards
stocked. The bathroom is through here -’
She opened the door and I stared at the white metal and plastic hoist that
crouched over the bath. There was an open wet area under the shower, with a
folded wheelchair beside it. In the corner a glass-fronted cabinet revealed neat
stacks of shrink-wrapped bales. I couldn’t see what they were from here, but it
all gave off a faint scent of disinfectant.
Mrs Traynor closed the door, and turned briefly to face me. ‘I should reiterate,
it is very important that Will has someone with him all the time. A previous carer
disappeared for several hours once to get her car fixed, and Will... injured
himself in her absence.’ She swallowed, as if still traumatized by the memory.
‘I won’t go anywhere.’
£ 0f course you will need ... comfort breaks. I just want to make it clear that
he can’t be left for periods longer than, say, ten or fifteen minutes. If something
unavoidable comes up either ring the intercom, as my husband, Steven, may be
home, or call my mobile number. If you do need to take any time off, I would
appreciate as much notice as possible. It is not always easy finding cover.’
‘No.’
Mrs Traynor opened the hall cupboard. She spoke like someone reciting a
well-rehearsed speech.
I wondered briefly how many carers there had been before me.
‘If Will is occupied, then it would be helpful if you could do some basic
housekeeping. Wash bedding, run a vacuum cleaner around, that sort of thing.
The cleaning equipment is under the sink. He may not want you around him all
the time. You and he will have to work out your level of interaction for
yourselves.’
Mrs Traynor looked at my clothes, as if for the first time. I was wearing the
very shaggy waistcoat thing that Dad says makes me look like an emu. I tried to
smile. It seemed like an effort.
‘Obviously I would hope that you could ... get on with each other. It would be
nice if he could think of you as a friend rather than a paid professional.’
‘Right. What does he ... um ... like to do?’
‘He watches films. Sometimes he listens to the radio, or to music. He has one
of those digital things. If you position it near his hand, he can usually manipulate
it himself. He has some movement in his fingers, although he finds it hard to
grip.’
I felt myself brightening. If he liked music and films, surely we could find
some common ground? I had a sudden picture of myself and this man laughing
at some Hollywood comedy, me running the Hoover around the bedroom while
he listened to his music. Perhaps this was going to be okay. Perhaps we might
end up as friends. I had never had a disabled friend before - only Treen’s friend
David, who was deaf, but would put you in a headlock if you suggested that
meant disabled.
‘Do you have any questions?’
‘No.’
he can’t be left for periods longer than, say, ten or fifteen minutes. If something
unavoidable comes up either ring the intercom, as my husband, Steven, may be
home, or call my mobile number. If you do need to take any time off, I would
appreciate as much notice as possible. It is not always easy finding cover.’
‘No.’
Mrs Traynor opened the hall cupboard. She spoke like someone reciting a
well-rehearsed speech.
I wondered briefly how many carers there had been before me.
‘If Will is occupied, then it would be helpful if you could do some basic
housekeeping. Wash bedding, run a vacuum cleaner around, that sort of thing.
The cleaning equipment is under the sink. He may not want you around him all
the time. You and he will have to work out your level of interaction for
yourselves.’
Mrs Traynor looked at my clothes, as if for the first time. I was wearing the
very shaggy waistcoat thing that Dad says makes me look like an emu. I tried to
smile. It seemed like an effort.
‘Obviously I would hope that you could ... get on with each other. It would be
nice if he could think of you as a friend rather than a paid professional.’
‘Right. What does he ... um ... like to do?’
‘He watches films. Sometimes he listens to the radio, or to music. He has one
of those digital things. If you position it near his hand, he can usually manipulate
it himself. He has some movement in his fingers, although he finds it hard to
grip.’
I felt myself brightening. If he liked music and films, surely we could find
some common ground? I had a sudden picture of myself and this man laughing
at some Hollywood comedy, me running the Hoover around the bedroom while
he listened to his music. Perhaps this was going to be okay. Perhaps we might
end up as friends. I had never had a disabled friend before - only Treen’s friend
David, who was deaf, but would put you in a headlock if you suggested that
meant disabled.
‘Do you have any questions?’
‘No.’
Then let’s go and introduce you.’ She glanced at her watch. 'Nathan should
have finished dressing him now.’
We hesitated outside the door and Mrs Traynor knocked. ‘Are you in there? I
have Miss Clark to meet you, Will.’
There was no answer.
‘Will? Nathan?’
Abroad New Zealand accent. ‘He’s decent, Mrs T.’
She pushed open the door. The annexe’s living room was deceptively large,
and one wall consisted entirely of glass doors that looked out over open
countryside. A wood burner glowed quietly in the corner, and a low beige sofa
faced a huge flat-screen television, its seats covered by a wool throw. The mood
of the room was tasteful, and peaceful - a Scandinavian bachelor pad.
In the centre of the room stood a black wheelchair, its seat and back cushioned
by sheepskin. A solidly built man in white collarless scrubs was crouching down,
adjusting a man’s feet on the footrests of the wheelchair. As we stepped into the
room, the man in the wheelchair looked up from under shaggy, unkempt hair.
His eyes met mine and after a pause, he let out a bloodcurdling groan. Then his
mouth twisted, and he let out another unearthly cry.
I felt his mother stiffen.
‘Will, stop it!’
He didn’t even glance towards her. Another prehistoric sound emerged from
somewhere near his chest. It was a terrible, agonizing noise. I tried not to flinch.
The man was grimacing, his head tilted and sunk into his shoulders as he stared
at me through contorted features. He looked grotesque, and vaguely angry. I
realized that where I held my bag, my knuckles had turned white.
‘Will! Please.’ There was a faint note of hysteria in his mother’s voice.
‘Please, don’t do this.’
Oh God, I thought. I’m not up to this. I swallowed, hard. The man was still
staring at me. He seemed to be waiting for me to do something.
‘I - I’m Lou.’ My voice, uncharacteristically tremulous, broke into the silence.
I wondered, briefly, whether to hold out a hand and then, remembering that he
wouldn’t be able to take it, gave a feeble wave instead. ‘Short for Louisa.’
Then to my astonishment his features cleared, and his head straightened on his
shoulders.
have finished dressing him now.’
We hesitated outside the door and Mrs Traynor knocked. ‘Are you in there? I
have Miss Clark to meet you, Will.’
There was no answer.
‘Will? Nathan?’
Abroad New Zealand accent. ‘He’s decent, Mrs T.’
She pushed open the door. The annexe’s living room was deceptively large,
and one wall consisted entirely of glass doors that looked out over open
countryside. A wood burner glowed quietly in the corner, and a low beige sofa
faced a huge flat-screen television, its seats covered by a wool throw. The mood
of the room was tasteful, and peaceful - a Scandinavian bachelor pad.
In the centre of the room stood a black wheelchair, its seat and back cushioned
by sheepskin. A solidly built man in white collarless scrubs was crouching down,
adjusting a man’s feet on the footrests of the wheelchair. As we stepped into the
room, the man in the wheelchair looked up from under shaggy, unkempt hair.
His eyes met mine and after a pause, he let out a bloodcurdling groan. Then his
mouth twisted, and he let out another unearthly cry.
I felt his mother stiffen.
‘Will, stop it!’
He didn’t even glance towards her. Another prehistoric sound emerged from
somewhere near his chest. It was a terrible, agonizing noise. I tried not to flinch.
The man was grimacing, his head tilted and sunk into his shoulders as he stared
at me through contorted features. He looked grotesque, and vaguely angry. I
realized that where I held my bag, my knuckles had turned white.
‘Will! Please.’ There was a faint note of hysteria in his mother’s voice.
‘Please, don’t do this.’
Oh God, I thought. I’m not up to this. I swallowed, hard. The man was still
staring at me. He seemed to be waiting for me to do something.
‘I - I’m Lou.’ My voice, uncharacteristically tremulous, broke into the silence.
I wondered, briefly, whether to hold out a hand and then, remembering that he
wouldn’t be able to take it, gave a feeble wave instead. ‘Short for Louisa.’
Then to my astonishment his features cleared, and his head straightened on his
shoulders.
Will Traynor gazed at me steadily, the faintest of smiles flickering across his
face. ‘Good morning, Miss Clark,’ he said. ‘I hear you’re my latest minder.’
Nathan had finished adjusting the footrests. He shook his head as he stood up.
‘You are a bad man, Mr T. Very bad.’ He grinned, and held out a broad hand,
which I shook limply. Nathan exuded an air of unflappability. ‘I’m afraid you
just got Will’s best Christy Brown impression. You’ll get used to him. His bark
is worse than his bite.’
Mrs Traynor was holding the cross at her neck with slim white fingers. She
moved it backwards and forwards along its thin gold chain, a nervous habit. Her
face was rigid. ‘I’ll leave you all to get on. You can call through using the
intercom if you need any help. Nathan will talk you through Will’s routines, and
his equipment.’
‘I’m here, mother. You don’t have to talk across me. My brain isn’t paralysed.
Yet.’
‘Yes, well, if you’re going to be foul, Will, I think it’s best if Miss Clark does
talk directly to Nathan.’ His mother wouldn’t look at him as she spoke, I noticed.
She kept her gaze about ten feet away on the floor. ‘I’m working from home
today. So I’ll pop in at lunchtime, Miss Clark.’
‘Okay.’ My voice emerged as a squawk.
Mrs Traynor disappeared. We were silent while we listened to her clipped
footsteps disappearing down the hall towards the main house.
Then Nathan broke the silence. ‘You mind if I go and talk Miss Clark through
your meds, Will? You want the television? Some music?’
‘Radio Four please, Nathan.’
‘Sure thing.’
We walked through to the kitchen.
‘You not had much experience with quadriplegics, Mrs T says?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep it fairly simple for today. There’s a folder here that tells you
pretty much everything you need to know about Will’s routines, and all his
emergency numbers. I’d advise you to read it, if you get a spare moment. I’m
guessing you’ll have a few.’
Nathan took a key from his belt and opened a locked cabinet, which was
packed full of boxes and small plastic canisters of medication. ‘Right. This lot is
face. ‘Good morning, Miss Clark,’ he said. ‘I hear you’re my latest minder.’
Nathan had finished adjusting the footrests. He shook his head as he stood up.
‘You are a bad man, Mr T. Very bad.’ He grinned, and held out a broad hand,
which I shook limply. Nathan exuded an air of unflappability. ‘I’m afraid you
just got Will’s best Christy Brown impression. You’ll get used to him. His bark
is worse than his bite.’
Mrs Traynor was holding the cross at her neck with slim white fingers. She
moved it backwards and forwards along its thin gold chain, a nervous habit. Her
face was rigid. ‘I’ll leave you all to get on. You can call through using the
intercom if you need any help. Nathan will talk you through Will’s routines, and
his equipment.’
‘I’m here, mother. You don’t have to talk across me. My brain isn’t paralysed.
Yet.’
‘Yes, well, if you’re going to be foul, Will, I think it’s best if Miss Clark does
talk directly to Nathan.’ His mother wouldn’t look at him as she spoke, I noticed.
She kept her gaze about ten feet away on the floor. ‘I’m working from home
today. So I’ll pop in at lunchtime, Miss Clark.’
‘Okay.’ My voice emerged as a squawk.
Mrs Traynor disappeared. We were silent while we listened to her clipped
footsteps disappearing down the hall towards the main house.
Then Nathan broke the silence. ‘You mind if I go and talk Miss Clark through
your meds, Will? You want the television? Some music?’
‘Radio Four please, Nathan.’
‘Sure thing.’
We walked through to the kitchen.
‘You not had much experience with quadriplegics, Mrs T says?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep it fairly simple for today. There’s a folder here that tells you
pretty much everything you need to know about Will’s routines, and all his
emergency numbers. I’d advise you to read it, if you get a spare moment. I’m
guessing you’ll have a few.’
Nathan took a key from his belt and opened a locked cabinet, which was
packed full of boxes and small plastic canisters of medication. ‘Right. This lot is
mostly my bag, but you do need to know where everything is in case of
emergencies. There’s a timetable there on the wall so you can see what he has
when on a daily basis. Any extras you give him you mark in there he pointed
‘- but you’re best to clear anything through Mrs T, at least at this stage.’
‘I didn’t realize I was going to have to handle drugs.’
‘It’s not hard. He mostly knows what he needs. But he might need a little help
getting them down. We tend to use this beaker here. Or you can crush them with
this pestle and mortar and put them in a drink.’
I picked up one of the labels. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen so many drugs
outside a pharmacy.
‘Okay. So he has two meds for blood pressure, this to lower it at bedtime, this
one to raise it when he gets out of bed. These he needs fairly often to control his
muscular spasms - you will need to give him one mid-morning, and again at
mid-afternoon. He doesn’t find those too hard to swallow, because they’re the
little coated ones. These are for bladder spasms, and these here are for acid
reflux. He sometimes needs these after eating if he gets uncomfortable. This is
his antihistamine for the morning, and these are his nasal sprays, but I mostly do
those last thing before I leave, so you shouldn’t have to worry. He can have
paracetamol if he’s in pain, and he does have the odd sleeping pill, but these tend
to make him more irritable in the daytime, so we try to restrict them.
‘These -’ he held up another bottle ‘- are the antibiotics he has every two
weeks for his catheter change. I do those unless I’m away, in which case I’ll
leave clear instructions. They’re pretty strong. There are the boxes of rubber
gloves, if you need to clean him up at all. There’s also cream there if he gets
sore, but he’s been pretty good since we got the air mattress.’
As I stood there, he reached into his pocket and handed another key to me.
‘This is the spare,’ he said. ‘Not to be given to anyone else. Not even Will, okay?
Guard it with your life.’
‘It’s a lot to remember.’ I swallowed.
‘It’s all written down. All you need to remember for today are his anti-spasm
meds. Those ones. There’s my mobile number if you need to call me. I’m
studying when I’m not here, so I’d rather not be called too often but feel free till
you feel confident.’
emergencies. There’s a timetable there on the wall so you can see what he has
when on a daily basis. Any extras you give him you mark in there he pointed
‘- but you’re best to clear anything through Mrs T, at least at this stage.’
‘I didn’t realize I was going to have to handle drugs.’
‘It’s not hard. He mostly knows what he needs. But he might need a little help
getting them down. We tend to use this beaker here. Or you can crush them with
this pestle and mortar and put them in a drink.’
I picked up one of the labels. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen so many drugs
outside a pharmacy.
‘Okay. So he has two meds for blood pressure, this to lower it at bedtime, this
one to raise it when he gets out of bed. These he needs fairly often to control his
muscular spasms - you will need to give him one mid-morning, and again at
mid-afternoon. He doesn’t find those too hard to swallow, because they’re the
little coated ones. These are for bladder spasms, and these here are for acid
reflux. He sometimes needs these after eating if he gets uncomfortable. This is
his antihistamine for the morning, and these are his nasal sprays, but I mostly do
those last thing before I leave, so you shouldn’t have to worry. He can have
paracetamol if he’s in pain, and he does have the odd sleeping pill, but these tend
to make him more irritable in the daytime, so we try to restrict them.
‘These -’ he held up another bottle ‘- are the antibiotics he has every two
weeks for his catheter change. I do those unless I’m away, in which case I’ll
leave clear instructions. They’re pretty strong. There are the boxes of rubber
gloves, if you need to clean him up at all. There’s also cream there if he gets
sore, but he’s been pretty good since we got the air mattress.’
As I stood there, he reached into his pocket and handed another key to me.
‘This is the spare,’ he said. ‘Not to be given to anyone else. Not even Will, okay?
Guard it with your life.’
‘It’s a lot to remember.’ I swallowed.
‘It’s all written down. All you need to remember for today are his anti-spasm
meds. Those ones. There’s my mobile number if you need to call me. I’m
studying when I’m not here, so I’d rather not be called too often but feel free till
you feel confident.’
I stared at the folder in front of me. It felt like I was about to sit an exam I
hadn’t prepared for. 'What if he needs ... to go to the loo?’ I thought of the hoist.
Tm not sure I could, you know, lift him.’ I tried not to let my face betray my
panic.
Nathan shook his head. ‘You don’t need to do any of that. His catheter takes
care of that. I’ll be in at lunchtime to change it all. You’re not here for the
physical stuff.’
‘What am I here for?’
Nathan studied the floor before he looked at me. ‘Try to cheer him up a little?
He’s ... he’s a little cranky. Understandable, given ... the circumstances. But
you’re going to have to have a fairly thick skin. That little skit this morning is
his way of getting you off balance.’
‘Is this why the pay is so good?’
‘Oh yes. No such thing as a free lunch, eh?’ Nathan clapped me on the
shoulder. I felt my body reverberate with it. ‘Ah, he’s all right. You don’t have to
pussyfoot around him.’ He hesitated. ‘I like him.’
He said it like he might be the only person who did.
I followed him back into the living room. Will Traynor’s chair had moved to
the window, and he had his back to us and was staring out, listening to
something on the radio.
‘That’s me done, Will. You want anything before I go?’
‘No. Thank you, Nathan.’
‘I’ll leave you in Miss Clark’s capable hands, then. See you lunchtime, mate.’
I watched the affable helper putting on his jacket with a rising sense of panic.
‘Have fun, you guys.’ Nathan winked at me, and then he was gone.
I stood in the middle of the room, hands thrust in my pockets, unsure what to
do. Will Traynor continued to stare out of the window as if I weren’t there.
‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ I said, finally, when the silence
became unbearable.
‘Ah. Yes. The girl who makes tea for a living. I wondered how long it would
be before you wanted to show off your skills. No. No, thank you.’
‘Coffee, then?’
‘No hot beverages for me, just now, Miss Clark.’
‘You can call me Lou.’
hadn’t prepared for. 'What if he needs ... to go to the loo?’ I thought of the hoist.
Tm not sure I could, you know, lift him.’ I tried not to let my face betray my
panic.
Nathan shook his head. ‘You don’t need to do any of that. His catheter takes
care of that. I’ll be in at lunchtime to change it all. You’re not here for the
physical stuff.’
‘What am I here for?’
Nathan studied the floor before he looked at me. ‘Try to cheer him up a little?
He’s ... he’s a little cranky. Understandable, given ... the circumstances. But
you’re going to have to have a fairly thick skin. That little skit this morning is
his way of getting you off balance.’
‘Is this why the pay is so good?’
‘Oh yes. No such thing as a free lunch, eh?’ Nathan clapped me on the
shoulder. I felt my body reverberate with it. ‘Ah, he’s all right. You don’t have to
pussyfoot around him.’ He hesitated. ‘I like him.’
He said it like he might be the only person who did.
I followed him back into the living room. Will Traynor’s chair had moved to
the window, and he had his back to us and was staring out, listening to
something on the radio.
‘That’s me done, Will. You want anything before I go?’
‘No. Thank you, Nathan.’
‘I’ll leave you in Miss Clark’s capable hands, then. See you lunchtime, mate.’
I watched the affable helper putting on his jacket with a rising sense of panic.
‘Have fun, you guys.’ Nathan winked at me, and then he was gone.
I stood in the middle of the room, hands thrust in my pockets, unsure what to
do. Will Traynor continued to stare out of the window as if I weren’t there.
‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ I said, finally, when the silence
became unbearable.
‘Ah. Yes. The girl who makes tea for a living. I wondered how long it would
be before you wanted to show off your skills. No. No, thank you.’
‘Coffee, then?’
‘No hot beverages for me, just now, Miss Clark.’
‘You can call me Lou.’
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