Page 44 of The Life Experiment
He was about to reply when his friend’s attention was caught by a sign up ahead. ‘Prepare to have your soul sucked dry,’ Jasper muttered as he turned onto the long driveway that led to Haven Hospice.
Situated on the outskirts of South London, Haven Hospice was a detour on the way to Jasper and Angus’s lunch plans, but Angus didn’t mind. He had another six hours to fill before calling Layla. If it took driving to Scotland and back to make those hours pass quicker, Angus would do it.
A crisp blue sky shone down on Jasper’s Tesla as it crept through the grounds of the hospice. Gardens ran along both sides of the long driveway, with a bandstand in the centre of the clipped grass on the left. Beside it, a grey-haired man in a wheelchair watched two children playing. A woman sat on the bench next to him, clutching his hand. The similarity of their features suggested they were father and daughter.
‘Why are we here?’ Angus asked. ‘Can’t your dad transfer his donation?’
‘My family are sponsoring a wing, Angus,’ Jasper replied, breaking sharply when they reached the car park. ‘It’s the kind of generosity you want known. Dad needs photos for the company website. It’s PR 101, my friend. Don’t worry, it’ll only take a moment.’
As Jasper readied himself to leave the car, Angus looked at the building ahead. The imposing structure was made of thick sandstone, but it was welcoming, not intimidating.
‘Stay in the car. This place is depressing as fuck. Besides, if you go inside, they’ll only hound you for money. Bloody charities,’ Jasper muttered as he exited the vehicle.
Angus watched his friend disappear into the building, then opened his conversation with Layla to read her response.
Photo or I’ll never believe you x
After snapping and sending a photo of the sky, Angus locked his phone. In Jasper’s absence, he debated completing this morning’s questionnaire, but instead he found himself looking back at the family in the garden. The youngest child was showing the man something she’d found in the grass. Angus squinted, watching as she lifted the object higher.
A flower.
The man marvelled at it like it was the best thing he’d ever seen. Tucking the flower into the pocket of his shirt, the man patted the fabric, showing he was keeping it safe.
Inexplicably, Angus’s throat closed. The intimate moment was full of vulnerability. And fear. And hope.
Angus remembered the last time he’d allowed himself to feel emotions that raw. It was years ago, stood on damp grass, watching Hugo’s coffin lower into the ground. Willing someone to say it was alla mistake, that someone else was inside that box. Terrified his mother’s tears would never step falling. Hollow at the thought of a life without his brother.
Staring at the family, all Angus could think was that he wanted to enable them to share more moments of joy. Suddenly, staying in the car felt like the worst way a man with Angus’s resources could spend his morning.
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he strode towards the entrance of the hospice. Nerves simmered under his skin, but as soon as Angus stepped inside, they faded. Whatever he expected to find, it wasn’t this. Haven didn’t seem like a hospital. There was no chemical smell, no greying paint, just a smiling receptionist, a few early Christmas cards tacked to the walls, and a strange sense of calm.
‘Hi there,’ the woman at reception said. ‘Are you here to visit someone?’
Glancing at the ID badge clipped to her shirt, Angus read that her name was Britta. He opened his mouth to respond to her question, but words failed him. Whatwashe doing in this place where people came to die? Why hadn’t he stayed in the car?
Britta’s face softened. ‘First times aren’t easy, I know. I can take you somewhere quiet if you need to gather your thoughts?’
Angus shook his head, suddenly aware of how wrong it felt to be here when he had no reason to be. He wasn’t sponsoring a wing. He wasn’t visiting someone. He was… what?
‘Come on,’ Britta said. ‘I’ll take you to our Memory Tree Room.’
‘Memory Tree Room?’ Angus echoed.
Smiling, Britta nodded to a corridor on the left. ‘Follow me.’
Angus followed Britta down a long hallway. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran along the left-hand side of the corridor, looking out onto the garden. The old man was still there with his family. The flower was still in his pocket.
Upon reaching a set of double doors, Britta stopped. ‘Here we go. The Memory Tree Room. Our families have contributed to it for years. Stay inside for as long as you like.’
Angus nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anytime. We all need to sit with our thoughts every now and then, don’t we?’ Britta replied before leaving Angus to explore on his own.
When her footsteps no longer echoed down the corridor, Angus looked to the double doors. A vivid forest scene was painted onto the wood, giving an otherworldly impression. There was something inviting about the design. Something that told Angus to enter.
So, he did.
As Angus pushed open the doors, an intricate mural of a tree came into view. The trunk started at the doorway and extended all the way to the top of the wall opposite. Portraits of animals were painted into the trunk. Branches extended across the ceiling, reaching out to all four corners of the room. The detail and size of the illustration was incredible, but the most breathtaking part was the leaves. Hung from the ceiling by thin pieces of thread, each leaf varied in colour, shape and size. Twirling gently, they gave the impression that the tree was a real, living thing.
