Still Me (Me Before You #3) - Jojo Moyes Page 0,162

used to the quiet, to it being just me, Margot and Dean Martin, not Vincent in his checked shirt and Paul Smith tie coming through bearing our dinner tray, and the tall man with his legs concertinaed against the coffee table and the woman who kept gazing around the living room with slightly startled eyes, as if she had never been anywhere like this before.

‘They surprised me, you know.’ Margot told me, her voice croaking a little, like someone who had already talked too much. ‘He called up to say he was passing and I thought it was just Vincent and then the door opened a little wider and, well, I can’t … You must all think me so shocking. I hadn’t even got round to getting dressed, had I? I’d quite forgotten until just now. But we have had the loveliest afternoon. I can’t begin to tell you.’ Margot reached out her other hand and her son took it, and squeezed it. His chin quivered a little with suppressed emotion.

‘Oh, it really has been magical,’ said Laynie. ‘We have so much to catch up on. I honestly think this was the Lord’s work bringing us all together.’

‘Well, Him and Facebook,’ said Vincent. ‘Would you like some coffee, Louisa? There’s some left in the pot. I just brought some cookies out in case Margot wanted to eat something.’

‘She won’t eat those,’ I said, before I could stop myself.

‘Oh, she’s quite right. I don’t eat cookies, Vincent dear. Those are really for Dean Martin. The chocolate drops aren’t actual chocolate, see?’

Margot barely drew breath. She seemed completely transformed. It was as if she’d lost a decade overnight. The brittle light behind her eyes had gone, replaced by something soft, and she couldn’t stop talking, her tone babbling and merry.

I backed towards the door. ‘Well, I … don’t want to get in the way. I’m sure you all have a lot to discuss. Margot, give me a shout when you need me.’ I stood, waving my hands uselessly. ‘It’s lovely to meet you all. I’m so pleased for you.’

‘We think it would be the right thing if Mom came back with us,’ said Frank Junior.

There was a brief silence.

‘Came back where?’ I said.

‘To Tuckahoe,’ said Laynie. ‘To our home.’

‘For how long?’ I said.

They looked at each other.

‘I mean how long will she be staying? Just so I can pack for her.’

Frank Junior was still holding his mother’s hand. ‘Miss Clark, we’ve lost a lot of time, Mom and I. And we both think it would be a fine thing if we could make the most of what we have. So we need to make … arrangements.’ The words held a hint of possession, as if he were already telling me of his greater claim over her.

I looked at Margot, who looked back at me, clear-eyed and serene. ‘That’s right,’ she said.

‘Hold on. You want to leave …’ I said, and, when nobody spoke, ‘… here? The apartment?’

Vincent’s expression was sympathetic. He turned to his father. ‘Why don’t we head out for now, Dad?’ he said. ‘Everyone has a lot to process. We certainly have a lot to work out. And I think Louisa and Grandma need to have a talk too.’

He touched my shoulder lightly as he left. It felt like an apology.

‘You know, I thought Frank’s wife was actually quite pleasant, though not a clue how to dress, poor thing. He had such awful girlfriends when he was younger, according to my mother. She wrote me letters for a while describing them. But a white cotton turtle-neck. Can you imagine the horror? A white turtle-neck.’

The memory of this travesty – or perhaps the speed at which Margot was talking – brought on a bout of coughing. I fetched a glass of water and waited until she recovered. They had left within minutes after Vincent had spoken up. I got the feeling it was done at his urging, and that neither of his parents really wanted to leave Margot.

I sat down on the chair. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘This must all seem very sudden to you. It was just the most extraordinary thing, Louisa dear. We talked and talked, and we may even have shed a tear or two. He’s just the same! It was like we’d never been apart. He’s the same – so serious and quiet but actually quite gentle, just as he was as a boy. And that wife of his is just the same – but then, out of the