Page 81 of The Life Experiment
‘Do you want to know why we didn’t tell you, Angus?’ Peter cut in furiously. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you why. Your mother wanted to keep this to herself because she didn’t think you could handle the truth.’
For the second time in a matter of moments, Peter’s words punched Angus in the gut. ‘What?’
‘That’s right, you heard me. Your mother didn’t think you had the maturity to deal with this news in a helpful way. And judging by your reaction tonight, it was the right choice to make! I do not care if you are upset that you were not told sooner. I do not care if you are angry. All I care about is your mother. You will come to the hospital and you will hold her hand and you will be there for her.’
When his father hung up on him, Angus stood staring blankly at the dining table in front of him. The desire to shy away from the moment called to him, telling him that seeing Gilly would be hard. That it would hurt, and that a night out with Jasper was only a phone call away.
But as Angus grabbed his coat, he knew there was only one place he would go.
Rushing from his penthouse, Angus jumped in his car and raced through a congested London. He drove erratically, weaving in and out of traffic. When Angus arrived at the hospital, he paced at the reception desk, willing himself to be patient as the elderly lady ahead of him spoke with the receptionist about the weather.
Eventually, when it was his turn to be seen, Angus said his mother’s name so quickly he had to repeat it twice for the receptionist to understand him.
‘Fairview-Whitley, let me see…’ she said as she typed. As soon as she said the room number, Angus was off, rushing to the stairs and striding to the ward. He only slowed when he reached Gilly’s room.
When she came into view through the glass door, Angus froze. Asleep, exhausted, and with skin greyer than he’d ever seen, Gilly looked… ill. Angus’s body iced over. He’d never seen his mother look so vulnerable, not even after Hugo’s death.
Spotting him on the other side of the door, Peter stood and opened it. ‘Angus,’ he said.
Numbly, Angus entered the room, his gaze fixed on his mother. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
For once, Peter didn’t hide the truth. ‘Yes, Angus, it is.’
Reaching for his father, Angus crumpled.
37Layla
Layla knew from listening to true crime podcasts that a late-night visitor was never a good thing – especially during a storm. As rain lashed the windows and wind howled deafeningly, the buzz of Layla’s intercom made her clutch the book she was reading to her chest. When the intercom rang for a second time, Layla shook the fear away.You live on the fourth floor, relax, she reassured herself as she stood to answer the call.
‘Hello?’ she said into the intercom.
‘Layla? Can I come up? I need you.’
Layla didn’t need to ask who it was, or what was going on. The tremor in Angus’s voice was enough for her to buzz him into the building without another word. Stuffing a pair of trainers onto her feet, Layla left her apartment to reach Angus quicker. She rushed to the lift, watching the numbers climb.
Then, when the doors opened, Layla simply opened her arms.
Angus’s body sagged into hers. The sudden weight nearly knocked Layla off her feet, but she planted herself firmly and held him like it was the last hug they would ever share.
‘Are you okay?’ Layla whispered, but when Angus’s response was an unsteady breath, she realised it wasn’t the time for questions. ‘Come on,’ she said, weaving her arm around his waist. ‘Come with me.’
Layla led Angus to her apartment. The cosy nights they had sharedthere flashed before her eyes, but Layla knew tonight wasn’t going to involve jokes over wine or teasing her lack of culinary skills.
Before Angus collapsed with distress, Layla peeled the damp coat from his shoulders. ‘Sit,’ she instructed, taking the coat and resting it over that back of a dining chair.
Stemming her worry as best she could, Layla joined Angus and laced her fingers through his. When she felt how cold he was, she gasped. Using her other hand, Layla brushed her fingers over Angus’s skin, willing it to warm.
Slowly, Layla dragged her eyes to Angus’s face, gulping at what she saw. His skin was pale. His eyes were vacant. Damp hair feathered over his forehead, drops of rain dripping from the tips. Layla’s fingers itched to brush them away, but that would mean letting go of his hand, something Layla couldn’t bring herself to do.
‘Do you need a drink?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure getting drunk is a good idea,’ Angus replied hoarsely.
‘I meant water.’
‘Water’s not strong enough.’
Something in Angus’s voice scared Layla. Inching closer, she squeezed his hand.
