Jojo Moyes

‘So we’re really left with care assistant.’

‘Wiping old people’s bottoms.’

‘You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped,’

As I left the room, I thought I might have heard him say sorry.

I had a framed photograph at home where I was beaming at Patrick like he had just pulled me from a burning building, yet in reality I had just called him an ‘utter dick’ and he had responded with a hearty, ‘Oh, piss off!’

‘Oh, lighten up, Clark. I’m the one having scalding hot air directed at my genitals.’

Do you want me to leave?’

‘No. Stay for a bit. Talk to me.’

It’s an unfair advantage, being able to walk away from a man in a wheelchair.

This is not the life I chose. There is no prospect of my recovery, hence it is a perfectly reasonable request to ask to end it in a manner I see fit.

There was nothing in our family that couldn’t be improved by a cup of tea, allegedly.

‘Well, it seemed to keep you happy. And it would be nice not to look like I belong in an asylum.’