Page 24 of The Life Experiment

I always used to dismiss the saying ‘it’s grim up north’, but I can confirm… the weather today is grim x

I don’t want to brag, but it’s a glorious day here.

Blue skies and everything… x

You’re lying.

This is some cruel, weather-based trickery to make me come back to London… x

Ignoring the way his stomach knotted over the word ‘lying’, Angus’s fingers fired another message Layla’s way.

Hand on heart, it is a day that would make anyone want to run back to the capital x

Jasper took his attention off the road to glance at Angus. Spotting the phone in his friend’s hand, Jasper’s thin mouth settled into an even thinner line. ‘Will you stop?’

‘Stop what?’

‘Not listening to me so you can talk to whoever it is you’re always texting.’

‘Sorry,’ Angus replied, slipping his phone away.

‘Who is she, anyway?’ Jasper asked.

‘Who’s who?’

‘The woman you keep messaging.’ When Angus said nothing, Jasper shot him another sidewards glance. ‘I’m not stupid, you know. Being glued to your phone can only mean one thing – you’ve met someone. So, who is she?’

Again, Angus said nothing.

‘Is it Clarissa?’

Angus didn’t mean to laugh, but the idea was so absurd he couldn’t not.

Jasper sniffed. ‘Well, whoever she is, you can’t keep her hidden forever. I’m running out of patience. You need to either stop cancelling on me to speak to her or you need to introduce us.’

‘You can’t meet her,’ Angus replied, panicked.

‘Why not? Scared she’ll prefer me to you?’ As Jasper’s mouth curled into a leer, Angus shuddered at the thought of him ever smiling at Layla like that.

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 all a 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. What was he 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.

Moving deeper into the room, Angus’s eyes widened.

The leaves weren’t just pretty decorations – they were dedications. Some contained inscriptions, some displayed photographs, some simply named a date, but all were unique, and all were dedicated to someone.

Someone who was loved.

Someone who was gone.

Someone who was remembered.

A lump formed in Angus’s throat. When his neck swivelled to take in the room once more, a leaf glinting in the sunlight caught his attention.

Made from silver card, it was almost holographic.

Tilting it to get a better view, Angus saw that a photograph of an old woman holding a baby was glued in the centre.

Beneath the image, written in childish script, was the word ‘Gran’ .

As the burn in Angus’s throat intensified, he moved about the room, reading as many inscriptions as he could.

‘You said our love was written in the stars. Now every night, I know where to find you’.

‘You’ll always be mummy’s special boy.’

‘A love that is lost is never gone. It lives on forever, in every beat of my heart.’

Each declaration landed heavy in Angus’s chest. Who would write a leaf for me? he wondered. His parents, he supposed, although it was hard to imagine Gilly displaying such uninhibited affection. She’d used up all her emotion when Hugo died.

Jasper and his friends, perhaps, although sentimentality wasn’t their strong point.

Layla, he hoped, although once she learned of his lies, would she even want to remember him? As the thought made Angus’s shoulders slump, the doors to the Memory Tree Room opened behind him.

‘Sorry,’ came a Scottish accent. ‘I can come back later—’

Grateful for the interruption, Angus turned to the short, stocky man in the doorway. ‘Please, come in,’ he said.

Nodding, the man entered the room and closed the doors.

Moving through the space like he knew exactly where he was going, he stopped beneath a purple leaf near the far wall.

Angus tried not to watch, but he couldn’t help it.

There was something in the man’s shimmering eyes that he couldn’t look away from.

‘I’m Chris, by the way,’ the man said after a moment.

‘Angus.’

‘Really? I wanted to call my son Angus, but the wife said over her dead body. There was an actor she fancied with that name. Said she couldn’t name her son after someone she’d had a sex dream about.’ Chris laughed, then nodded to the leaf. ‘We lost her a year ago today.’

Angus blinked, taking in the youth of the man before him. A man who had known love and loss, yet did not look a day over forty. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all Angus could think to say.

‘Aye, me too. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry about it, but I come in here and talk to Fearne whenever I visit. She never replies. Rude, don’t you think?’

‘Maybe she’s too busy telling Angus the actor about you to talk.’

Chris laughed again, but this time his laugh mingled with something that sounded a lot like tears. Angus searched his brain for something to say to make things better, but what words had the power to do that?

‘I woke up today and didn’t know what to do,’ Chris admitted. ‘A year without her… It’s flown, in some ways. In others it feels like a lifetime. Most days, I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought seeing this today might help.’

Angus glanced up at the leaf. ‘Has it?’

‘Does anything help when you wake up to an empty bed in a house you bought with someone you thought you’d grow old with?’ As if remembering where he was, Chris glanced back at Angus. ‘Sorry, you don’t need me depressing you.’

‘It’s fine. I’m fine.’

‘Well, that makes one of us,’ Chris joked.

‘You know, before she passed, Fearne said to me, “If you don’t live every day like you’re lucky to be here, I’ll come back and haunt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead.

” Sometimes I feel like wasting the day in front of the TV in my underwear just so she’ll come back and tell me off. ’

The men settled into a companionable silence before Angus broke it. ‘Do you, then?’

‘Do what, watch TV in my underwear?’

‘No, live every day like you’re lucky to be here?’

As Chris mulled over the question, he reached out and touched Fearne’s leaf. ‘Is there any other way to live?’

With that, he spun the leaf, sending it swirling as if it had a life of its own. Watching it, something inside Angus split open, but instead of the pain he expected, something else appeared.

Peace.

Purpose.

Clarity.

Life didn’t have to be a series of mind-numbing events if Angus didn’t want it to be. He had the means to create something amazing. Not only for himself, but for others too. After all, what was the point of having so much money if not to do good with it?

For years, Angus had spent his life in hiding, but maybe it was time to stop being scared. Maybe it was time to stop watching life slip by and actually do something with it.

Turning to the double doors, Angus set off, ready to follow the instinct he’d spent years ignoring.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Chris called, stopping Angus before he could leave.

‘You didn’t. If anything, you woke me up.’

‘Did I? Well, I’ll make sure I tell Fearne that. Maybe she’ll reply this time.’

A look passed between the men. Angus willed himself to say something meaningful, something that would help, then he realised what he should do. Stepping out of the room, Angus closed the doors and left Chris to sit with thoughts of his wife in peace.

Back at reception, Britta looked up when she heard Angus approaching. ‘Back so soon,’ she said. ‘How can I help?’

‘Actually, Britta,’ he replied. ‘I think I might be able to help you.’