Page 21 of The Life Experiment

Icy wind slapped Layla’s cheeks as she walked with Joanna towards the bypass that led to the estate they called home. She had been in Hull for a little over a week, but it felt like the temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees in that time. Winter was well and truly coming.

Usually, winter meant going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark.

It meant months of daydreaming about sunshine and brighter days.

But with Angus in her life, winter didn’t seem as dull as it once had.

Especially considering what could happen if – when , Layla’s brain snapped – she returned to London.

The run-up to Christmas was the most magical time in the capital.

That’s what tourists were told, anyway. Layla was usually too busy to participate in the frosty revelry, but this year, she hoped for something different.

And, judging by their recent exchanges, it sounded like Angus was determined to make those wishes a reality.

Just wait, Cannon – dinner is only the start of our festive plans. I’m picturing roaring fires, toasted marshmallows and of course, mulled wine x

Layla had almost squealed reading that. Her mind filled with visions of cosy, intimate dates. Only as friends, of course.

‘Come on,’ Joanna said suddenly, picking up her pace. ‘We can get home and out of this cold faster if we hurry.’

Layla copied her mum, moving so fast her arms swung with determination.

The walk back from the neonatal unit of the local hospital wasn’t far.

Thirty-five minutes, if that. However, the pink tip of Layla’s nose indicated that thirty-five minutes of walking on a freezing day was not exactly comfortable.

Joanna had refused to get the bus, though. ‘The exercise will be good,’ she insisted.

Although Layla suspected her mum’s personal motivation for the walk was to punish herself for eating pasta last night, she hadn’t argued. The only reason Layla was out of bed was because of Joanna.

Since Layla had arrived in Hull ten days ago, Joanna had filled her time with odd jobs.

A skirting board that needed painting, a grocery shop she could not complete alone.

And earlier, when Joanna announced that she was dropping off another batch of knitting to the neonatal unit, she’d asked Layla to tag along.

Layla knew it was all a ploy to get her outside and moving, but she didn’t mind. Fresh air sounded appealing, as did seeing the place Joanna visited every month to drop off the fruits of her labour.

Joanna had been knitting items for premature babies for the last nine years.

The project started when Layla was at university, Maya was in her partying phase, and David was working through a new physio regime.

Layla had never questioned her mother’s sudden love of knitting.

In fact, she’d almost forgotten it was something Joanna did until she saw her making a tiny yellow hat while watching TV.

But as Layla watched Joanna being greeted like a hero by the staff at the hospital, she’d felt a surge of pride for her mother.

She had seen an opportunity to make a difference and learned a new skill to do it.

In a world where it often felt like people were more self-serving than ever, Joanna was bucking the trend.

Her way of helping might not be huge, but it definitely wasn’t small.

‘Why do you do it?’ Layla asked when they approached a set of traffic lights near a busy intersection.

‘Do what?’ Joanna replied.

‘Knit the hats and blankets.’

‘It’s simple: someone needs them.’ Joanna pushed the button at the pedestrian crossing like what she had said was the easiest thing in the world to understand.

‘But so many people need things. You don’t see everyone else going out of their way to help.’

‘Maybe I’m not like everyone else,’ Joanna said, flashing Layla a cheeky grin, but then she shrugged.

‘I guess I know what it’s like to go through life thinking everything is fine, then one day it’s not.

You lose all confidence in your footing.

People you thought were friends are suddenly nowhere to be found.

When your dad had his accident, it was the kindness of strangers that got me through.

Sometimes, I just needed that person at the bus stop to talk about the weather and make me feel normal.

Then there were times when people went out of their way to help.

Like once, at the supermarket, I was a pound short for the weekly shop.

The cashier wanted me to put something back, but an old lady in the queue gave me the money.

She saved me from breaking down at the end of aisle five. ’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Layla breathed, slotting her arm through Joanna’s. ‘I had no idea.’

Joanna squeezed Layla’s hand. ‘Your dad and I tried to shield you from it as best we could, but I’ll never forget the kindness of that woman.

She was a pensioner, she probably needed the money as much as I did, but she still gave it to me.

She helped when she could have chosen not to.

Since then, I’ve tried to be that person for someone else whenever I can. ’

As the traffic lights changed colour, Layla leaned her head on Joanna’s shoulder. ‘You really are the greatest.’

‘And so are you,’ Joanna said, pressing a kiss to Layla’s hairline.

Layla replayed her mum’s words as they continued their journey home. The more she thought of them, the more Layla wondered if they were the truth.

Layla didn’t feel great, and not just because of her death date. In fact, she hadn’t felt great in a long time. As they reached the familiar street of her childhood home, Layla wondered why that was.

Work was the first thought that came to mind. Life at Mayweather & Halliwell was tiring and stressful, of course it made her feel not-great, but Layla knew it was more than that. Within the walls of that office, she wasn’t the person she wanted to be.

You only have to look at how you are with Sinead to know that , her brain pointed out.

Day after day, Layla sat beside a woman who was struggling.

Sinead had migrated from Ireland to be with her girlfriend.

She didn’t have the support network of her family and hadn’t been in London long enough to make solid friendships.

With her work-life taking over and her relationship crumbling, Sinead needed a friend.

Layla hadn’t been one for her, or for Rashida.

Guilt tugged at Layla as she thought of how, by running off to Hull, she had abandoned her colleagues at one of the busiest times of year.

The day she decided to hop on a train home, Layla had booked personal leave and told Mayweather & Halliwell that there was a family emergency.

At first, everyone was understanding – Michelle even sent an email saying she was thinking of Layla – but by now the caring bubble had burst and the hounds were calling.

People needed information about clients and cases, and answers about when she’d reclaim her workload.

They needed her back, but Layla couldn’t help thinking, So what?

For years she’d used all the energy she should have spent on herself on her job. It took everything in Layla to not burst into tears at that realisation.

‘Maya, are you home?’ Joanna called as they entered the house.

‘In the kitchen,’ Maya responded. ‘I’ve got work in an hour, though.’

‘Want me to make you some lunch, Mum?’ Layla asked, slipping her feet free from a pair of boots she’d borrowed from Maya.

‘No thanks, sweetheart. I’m not hungry.’

Layla frowned. ‘You must be. You only had an apple for breakfast.’

‘You wouldn’t think that to look at me,’ Joanna joked, patting her stomach.

There was something about the gesture that made Layla want to shout at her mother.

Her hands itched to grab Joanna’s wrists and beg her to stop being so cruel to herself, but as Joanna headed upstairs, the moment slid through Layla’s fingers.

In the kitchen, Layla found Maya leaning against the fridge, flicking through her phone.

‘All right, Layls?’ Maya asked before taking a bite of a cheese sandwich.

‘Yes. No. Is Mum okay?’

Maya looked up from her phone at the unexpected question. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s not eating.’

‘Oh, that,’ Maya replied. ‘She’s in another of her I-want-to-be-thin stages. She thinks some article she read in 2012 about fasting is the answer.’

Reaching into the cupboard for a biscuit, Layla tried not to shake her head. ‘Should we be worried?’

‘Layla, this is Mum. She always thinks there’s something wrong with the way she looks, and she’s always hunting for a diet to fix it.’

‘I know, but it’s so sad to see.’

‘I agree,’ Maya replied, taking another bite of her sandwich.

‘But that’s what years of societal brainwashing does to a person.

It makes you hate yourself, then look back at photos and think, Wait, why did I?

I looked great! Besides, Mum’s spent years on the bottom of her own priority list. She’s never had time to care for herself in the way she wants to. ’

‘Because of Dad’s accident?’

‘Because of life, Layls. Being a mum isn’t easy, never mind being a mum and the partner of someone who became disabled overnight. Mum’s doing the best she can. If this makes her feel like she has some control, then who are we to judge?’

The chocolate biscuit Layla was eating soured in her mouth. ‘I wish we could make her feel better about herself, that’s all.’

‘Make who feel better?’ Joanna said, bustling into the room with the laundry basket.

Like two guilty children, Layla and Maya stood taller. ‘A client from the salon I was telling Layla about,’ Maya lied. ‘No matter what I say, she doesn’t think she looks good.’

‘Poor woman,’ Joanna replied, opening the drum of the washing machine. ‘This world doesn’t tell you how to be confident. It only wipes away whatever confidence you have.’

Layla’s eyes met Maya’s. In them, she saw all the times they had heard Joanna speak negatively about herself.

All the times they’d seen her get flustered and upset in a fitting room if an item of clothing didn’t fit.

All the times she’d moved to the background of photos rather than be at the front, or not be in them at all.

As Layla’s mouth opened to say something, an alarm went off on her phone, reminding her that it was almost time for her weekly counselling session with Saira.

Experiment rules stipulated that sessions were held virtually one week, and in person the other.

Saira had bent this rule for Layla while she was in Hull – but at a compromise, her counselling sessions were upped to twice a week.

Layla hadn’t battled against the new structure.

If anything, the extra time to talk was needed.

Sometimes, the sessions with Saira felt like the only time anything in Layla’s life made sense.

‘I’ve got to make a call,’ Layla said, putting her phone away. ‘Sorry, it’s important.’

‘Another call with the mystery man?’ Maya teased.

Tempted to stick out her tongue in juvenile retaliation, Layla instead let the comment slide. ‘Not quite. A work call.’

‘I was wondering when you were going to get in touch with them. I can’t imagine they’ve loved you disappearing.’

‘Maya,’ Joanna admonished, whipping her with a pair of Jayden’s pyjama trousers. ‘Ignore her, sweetheart. Go talk to whoever you need to.’

Excusing herself from the kitchen before more Angus-inspired comments could be fired her way, Layla headed to her room.

Pulling her laptop from under the bed, Layla powered it up.

Her eyes found her inbox, the red notification bubble indicating a nauseating number of unread emails, but Layla forced herself to look away. Opening Zoom, she joined the meeting.

Seconds later, Saira’s smiling face filled the screen. ‘Layla,’ she said in a tone so upbeat it was practically a cheer. ‘You’re looking well.’

The compliment mirrored a similar one Saira had made at the start of their last session. Back then, Layla had been so dismissive she almost didn’t hear it, but this time she did. And, after thinking for a moment, she nodded. ‘I feel well. Not perfect, not there yet, but better.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Remember, take things one day at a time.’

‘That’s my mantra,’ Layla joked, but it wasn’t really funny. ‘One day at a time’ was what Layla told herself when she woke up. She repeated it in her wobbliest moments. One day at a time, bringing her closer to the end of her life, and hopefully closer to the person she was destined to be.