Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
Giles Temple walked out of the rain, down from the roof, and straight into his office.
He shook himself like a wet dog and let out a huge sigh.
The steady hum of anxiety that dominated his life wouldn’t budge.
He scrolled through some TikTok videos. The algorithm was pushing him ways to be happy—exercise, vegetables, therapy, the ocean, a dog, sleep.
Giles knew that none of them could cure his funk.
Money. Money. Giles needed money. And until things quietened down, his only reliable revenue stream was cut off.
He’d tried everything: making honey, installing a climbing wall.
Everything. Recently, after afternoon sessions in Wetherspoons, he’d taken to calling up business associates and making threats.
Stupid, he knew, but that was how panicked Giles was.
A private school boy, the weakest on the rugby team, playing the hard man. The cap didn’t fit.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection on his phone. He wasn’t getting any younger.
There was a way out. He didn’t want to take it, but it was there.
Someone had offered to buy the home. Until now, he’d resisted it.
Sheldon Oaks was the Temple legacy. Letting it leave the family felt like a betrayal of his father.
He’d disappointed him in life, and now he’d be disappointing him in death.
But the offer was a life raft, the only one he could see.
Maybe Giles just had to accept that he was not an exceptional person, not in any way.
Whatever he set his mind to, he was destined to fail, because Giles Temple was a very average man.
Below average, in fact. He was a schlub, a loser.
But at least if he took the offer he’d be a loser with money.
He stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the “send” button. Sod it.
Ok you’ve twisted my arm. Let’s do it.
Whoosh.
He sent messages to the people who needed to know, and sat back. For the first time in months, his shoulders dropped.
Yes. It had been the right decision.
He took off his damp clothes, put on a dressing gown, and took the lift down to the basement. One last sauna to celebrate.
—
Giles didn’t hear the lock turn on the sauna door.
His eyes closed, he was enjoying the bliss of the end of his financial worries.
Why had he wavered? Of course it was the right thing to do.
Twenty minutes ago he’d been in despair.
Now his confidence was already returning.
Now that he was about to have some cash again, should he get back into business?
Maybe open another restaurant? Of course he should!
He was older and wiser now. He was Giles Temple, and Giles Temple—if you discounted everything he’d done in his life so far—could do anything he set his mind to.
When he felt his nose hairs start to burn, he stood up, pulled down the handle, and pushed. Time to get working on a new business plan.
But the door wouldn’t move.
It felt like no one ever used the sauna but him.
Another pointless facility, another waste of cash.
He banged on the door, yelled until his throat hurt.
In space, no one can hear you scream. The same could be said of a sauna at an old people’s home.
He might as well have been in a capsule, floating through the cosmos.
A sauna was a pleasant place to be, as long as you chose to be there. The second you wanted to leave but couldn’t, it became an unbearable nightmare.
He knew he’d been murdered and, as death approached, he knew who’d done it. How could he have been so stupid?
Giles spent his final moments before passing out trying to remember the difference between a raisin, a sultana, and a currant. What was a prune? Was it a dried plum? And what would they call Giles Temple when they found his shriveled corpse?