Page 26 of The Life Experiment
The joke landed with a thud, but Angus was too numb to register its impact. All he wanted was to head back to the bathroom and barricade himself from the world.
‘Richard, behave,’ Corinne said, giggling nervously.
It was only upon seeing his wife’s panic that Richard realised his faux pas. His already red cheeks flushed. ‘What a silly comment,’ he blustered. ‘Ignore me. Too much wine!’
‘Actually, we weren’t discussing business,’ Gilly retorted, piercing Richard with an icy glare that sobered him up in an instant. ‘But Angus did mention that he hadn’t seen Penelope for a while. Tell me, is she still in Italy?’
The sip of water Gilly took after her question was delicate, but her eyes sparkled with the knowledge that she was touching a nerve. As Richard became flustered and Corinne burned with silent indignation, Angus felt the atmosphere swell.
‘She’s having a lovely time,’ Richard muttered, reaching for his empty wineglass.
‘How wonderful. Perhaps you could ask her to send me a postcard? I’d love to hear about her travels,’ Gilly pushed, but it was a prod too far for Peter.
Rising to his feet, he clapped his hands to signal the end of the conversation. ‘I’m sure Penelope is having a lovely time. Now, shall I see about asking Ms Tillman to fetch dessert?’
The table murmured in agreement, but Angus stayed silent. He caught his mother’s gaze, flinching at her smug delight. Sure, Gilly had rescued him from public ridicule, but only by highlighting another family’s shame. Everyone knew that Penelope Smythe wasn’t touring Italy; she was in rehab in Kensington. The partying that had been funny when she was eighteen wasn’t met with the same affectionate eye-roll now that she was twenty-eight. After stealing and crashing Richard’s Bentley while high on a cocktail of drugs that would have killed most people, Penelope’s family’s patience had finally snapped.
And there Gilly was, using that pain as a weapon. Slicing someone else down to make Angus seem tall. Pushing his plate away, Angus’s shame deepened. He should be used to how it felt by now, but it crushed his chest until every day felt impossible.
At least, it had until the moment he sat opposite Layla.
For the umpteenth time that night, Angus’s mind wandered to Layla and the sparks that flew during their brief conversation. Stripped of all pretension, it was the most honest interaction he had experienced in recent memory. He craved another hit. Another moment where Layla’s smile made time stand still.
13Layla
The tannoy crackled, announcing the next stop, but Layla barely registered the information. She didn’t need to. She knew there were another ten minutes left of her train journey. The route from London to Hull was drilled into her, even if she hadn’t taken it recently.
With her forehead resting on the window, the world whizzed past Layla in short flashes. A skeletal tree, a crumbling house, a barren field. Flash, flash, flash, the train’s speed blurred the surroundings. Layla preferred it that way. The distorted world mimicked her erratic mind – she didn’t need to see where she was going, she just needed to keep moving.
In the seat beside her, a balding man shifted his weight with a sigh. Layla tried not to be irritated by his presence, but it was hard when his spread legs meant he was taking up most of her room. He had got on the train six stations ago, smelling mildly of a meat pasty.
As if the space invasion and odour weren’t bad enough, the man had made a call as soon as the train set off. ‘Gazzaaaaa,’ he bellowed down the line, seemingly oblivious to the carriage full of people surrounding him. From there, it got worse. Loudly and disdainfully discussing asylum seekers (‘Don’t they realise we don’t want them?’), then his mother’s ill health (‘Looks like I’ll be coming into my inheritance soon, mate’), every second spent beside him had been torture. The worst moment was when the man left his seat to collect oneof the train’s free newspapers then practically sat on Layla’s knee upon return.
‘Sorry, love,’ he said, winking as if his butt cheek against her thigh was harmless fun. When Layla’s nose wrinkled in disgust, all joviality left his face. ‘Miserable bitch,’ he muttered, not at all quietly.
Since then, the man had ensured he took up as much space as possible. Flipping the pages of his newspaper with unnecessary force, his elbow dug into Layla’s forearm with each turn.
The sound of rustling paper reminded Layla of Sunday mornings. Her dad stifling a yawn as he read the newspaper cover to cover. Maya extracting the gossip section so she could look at outfits worn by her favourite celebrities. Her mother serving breakfast, something sweet for a weekend treat.
Layla’s mouth watered at the memory. Then, like it always did when she thought of those days, her heart hurt.
Inside her pocket, Layla’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out with difficulty, narrowly avoiding brushing her arm against the man, and checked the notifications. There was a message from Sinead asking if she could call Layla for advice, and Saira’s daily check-in text. It had been five days since her unexpected visit. Five days ofAre you okay?messages and muddling through work until something inside Layla snapped and told her to book some personal leave.
I’m fine, Layla replied.I’m on my way to Hull. I think seeing my family might help.
Saira’s reply was fast and in agreement with Layla’s plan. Clicking out of their exchange, Layla allowed herself a second to hope that another message was waiting. A message from someone else entirely.
Someone who, quite inexplicably, possessed the power to make Layla’s mind wander away from her impending death.
But she had no other messages. In fact, in the time that had passed since Layla had met Angus, no contact had been made at all.
Layla knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d hardly been good company that day, what with finding out she only had two years leftto live, but Angus didn’t know that. All he knew was that he’d taken a seat opposite an odd, grumpy stranger.
Layla’s toes curled at the directive she’d given him…You can only call or message when you have a really, really bad day.Layla wasn’t even sure why she said it. That day, she had wanted the world to be as miserable as her, but now Layla wanted to be consumed by anything other than the ticking clock in her mind reminding her how little time she had left. And Angus, with his thick hair and kissable lips, was someone Layla would have no issue being consumed by. No issue at all.
In her most desperate moments, Layla had tried googling him, but it was useless. All she knew was that he was called Angus and that his smile shone with the radiance of the sun. As good as Google was, it couldn’t pull off a search that obscure.
Pressing her body back into her seat, Layla scolded herself. Why was she so bothered that Angus hadn’t been in touch? She’d never sat waiting for a man to call before. Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. Aside from the obvious fact that nothing could happen between them, given her death date, there was something about Angus that made Layla hesitate.
