Page 80 of The Life Experiment
That didn’t stop the bullshit from being there, though. Sighing, he rubbed his temples and waited for one image to stand out as the right one. It never did. Even when Angus got a drink of water and returned to the table with fresh eyes, there was no obvious choice.
The temptation to snap a photo of the mock-ups and send it to Layla for her opinion was strong.Maybe this is the point you tell her,Angus’s brain suggested.Stop with the lies.
The thought was more tempting than ever. The little white lies Angus could once justify were not so little anymore, and Layla didn’t deserve deception of any kind. What started as a way of hiding his shame had become the most shameful thing Angus had ever done.
Studying the designs once more, Angus made a vow. The next time he saw Layla, he would tell her about Hugo’s House. From there,he would tell her the rest. If he explained, maybe she would understand. Maybe they could have the future that Angus couldn’t stop picturing.
For now, though, all Angus could do was focus on the task at hand. Reaching for his phone, Angus fired off a text to his father:Which of these logos do you like best?
Sitting back in his chair, Angus picked up one of the printed graphics and studied it closely. While it didn’t feel quite the right fit for the charity – Was it the colours? The way the font filled the entire outline of a house? – there was something about it that made him pause.
Angus had come up with the idea for Hugo’s House. He had found an opportunity and chased it. The vision in his head was coming to fruition. Builders would start constructing self-contained units in the properties as soon as planning permission was granted.
Hugo’s House was coming to life, yet Angus had no one to share the good news with.
Checking his phone once more, Angus was dismayed to see no response from his father. With a sigh, he left the table and poured himself a whisky. A solo celebration, of sorts. It felt as lonely as it sounded.
Taking the first sip of his drink, Angus trailed through his penthouse. At the window, he stopped and watched a blanket of darkness unroll over London until he heard his phone ring. Gulping the rest of his whisky, Angus headed back to the dining table. A smile took over his features when he saw Peter’s name on the screen.
‘What did you think of them?’ Angus asked when he answered the call, but he was met with a thick silence.
‘Angus.’
There was something in the way Peter said his name that made Angus feel sick. Gripping the back of a chair to steady himself, Angus willed himself to speak. ‘What’s going on? What’s wrong?’
‘Angus, it’s your mother.’ Peter’s words sent a white-hot poker of fear through Angus’s chest. ‘She’s not well, Angus. She hasn’t been for a while.’
Angus heard the words, but they wouldn’t compute. His grip on the chair tightened, white-knuckling the fabric like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
‘You need to come to the hospital,’ Peter said.
Instinctively, Angus shook his head. Gilly was fine. Gilly was always fine. She was Gilly Fairview-Whitley, for crying out loud. She was strong, invincible… Wasn’t she?
On the other end of the phone, Peter steadied his breathing. ‘Cromwell Hospital, ward—’
‘Stop,’ Angus cried. ‘What do you mean, Cromwell Hospital? What’s going on?’
‘Angus, your mother has cancer. She’s been undergoing treatment for the last few months. She asked me to keep it between the two of us, but she’s caught an infection. It’s not looking good, son. You need to be here.’
Angus was aware of Peter giving directions to Gilly’s ward. He knew he should be noting the instructions, but all Angus could focus on was the blood rushing to his head as he processed the news.
Gilly had cancer.
She had cancer, and Angus didn’t know.
‘You didn’t tell me?’ he heard himself whisper.
Peter paused before responding. ‘Your mother didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Didn’t want to worry me, but waiting until she’s in hospital with an infection to tell me this news is okay?’ Angus knew he was being petty. The hows and the whys didn’t matter right now, but still, he couldn’t stop himself from clinging to them.
‘Your mother wanted to deal with this in her way,’ Peter replied, wearily. ‘My role wasn’t to tell her how to do that, but to support her. Which is exactly what you should be doing now.’
‘Now you want my support? Not in any of the months before, just when Mother is in hospital?’
‘Angus—’
‘No, I’m serious! You wanted to have me over for dinner and pretend everything was fine and—’
