Page 2 of The Life Experiment
Clutching her goodies, Layla headed back to her desk, returning to find Sinead with her head in her hands. ‘You okay?’ Layla asked as she slid onto her chair.
‘Are any of us, when we’re still here at this time?’ Sinead sighed, the gust of breath so strong it ruffled her strawberry-blonde fringe.
Leaning back in her seat, Rashida linked her fingers behind her hijab to stretch. ‘I’m not. I’ve missed story time again. Aaron sent a photo. I’m not sure he meant it as a guilt trip, but it’s working.’
‘Show me,’ Layla said.
Rashida reached for her phone and turned it to her friends. A photo of her two-year-old son, Syed, wearing adorable aeroplane pyjamas and holding a picture book filled the screen.
‘He’s so cute!’ Sinead cooed.
‘He is. It’s a shame I’m not around to see his cuteness for myself.’
Layla opened her drink, a satisfying fizz ringing out into the office. ‘Go home then. It’s almost eight.’
‘I can’t leave yet. Richard’s been at me all week about my billables,’ Rashida replied, locking her phone as if the now-black screen could silence her maternal guilt.
‘They can’t fire you for going home to see your son.’
‘No, but they can make my life difficult. You know as well as I do that companies like this look for any excuse to push working mothers out of the office and back into their homes.’
Layla’s features twisted, but she didn’t argue. Rashida was right. Time and time again, Layla had seen it happen.
Sure, working here is hard,Layla thought,but what isn’t?
Growing up on an estate in Hull, all Layla ever saw was hard living. The single mother battling to find a job that fit around her childcare needs. The bored teenager who joined a gang because there was nothing else to do. The migrant told their qualifications didn’t translate, so all they were offered was a minimum-wage role.
Even in her own family, things had been tough. When Layla was seven, her dad had a near-fatal fall while helping a friend install guttering on his house. The damage to David’s body was catastrophic. It took him months and multiple surgeries to recover, not that he ever fully did. Even now, David’s movements were creaky and tinged with pain.
The accident put David out of work for years, and government support couldn’t make up for the loss of his income. Joanna’s part-time supermarket salary just wasn’t enough. Money was tight. Grocery shopping was a competition to find the cheapest products. Clothes were bought second-hand and shared between Layla and Maya. Haircuts were done in the kitchen with a pair of blunt scissors and Joanna’s best efforts.
Life in the Cannon family might have been filled with love and laughter, but for Layla it was also filled with worry for her stressedparents. David and Joanna were still struggling to pay off the debts they’d amassed during that time. Layla helped where she could, though after rent and living expenses, she never had much money to spare.
But so what if London was a financial drain and her career was an energy vacuum? This was Layla’s dream. It always had been.
Ever since Layla could remember, rules, logic and consequences had called to her. Life didn’t have to be chaotic, she’d realised. There could, and should, be order in the world.
So, Layla became a lawyer. And not just any lawyer, but a corporate lawyer living in the capital. Sure, Layla once pictured herself defending the rights of refugees or victims of crime, not helping millionaires hoard their wealth, but still, she had made her childhood dream come true.
Layla had been taught from an early age that if you worked hard, you succeeded. If you worked hard, then the place you were born, the school you attended, and the rank of your social class meant nothing.
But if hard work is the answer, why am I getting nowhere?Layla wondered. It was a thought so toxic she wanted to shake her head to dislodge it.
As she popped a salt and vinegar crisp in her mouth, Layla studied Sinead. Dark circles shadowed her colleague’s eyes, the bags so embedded that even her expensive concealer struggled to hide them. Layla knew for a fact Sinead hadn’t eaten lunch either. It was sad, really. When Sinead joined the firm eight months ago, bright-eyed and fresh from Dublin, she had been the life and soul of the party. ‘Always up for the craic,’ as she used to put it. Looking at her now, the only thing Sinead looked up for was an early night.
‘Wasn’t it your anniversary yesterday?’ Layla asked, crunching on another crisp.
Sinead groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’
‘What happened?’
‘What always happens – we had plans, but I didn’t leave here until after nine.’
‘I take it Kirstie wasn’t impressed?’
‘Would you be if you had to cancel a reservation at La Rosa at the last minute?’
‘Ouch,’ Rashida winced, but Layla said nothing. For her, romantic dinners were a distant memory.
