Ken McClure - Hypocrite's Isle

When Gavin got back to the lab, Mary told him that Caroline had phoned and asked that he phone her back on her mobile, but not until after her afternoon lecture finished at four. He called at ten past. It sounded as if she was in a crowded corridor and having difficulty hearing him. Reducing the conversation to the bare minimum, they agreed to meet in the student union at five.

It was raining heavily when Gavin left the building and ran round to the union, pausing just inside the door to shake the water from his hair before he noticed Caroline arrive just behind him. She turned to collapse her umbrella and shake it out on the steps. He gave her a one-armed hug.

‘Well, the swelling’s gone down a lot,’ said Caroline, examining Gavin’s face as he drew away. ‘You look almost normal. How are the ribs?’

‘Knitting together as we speak.’ Gavin steered her through to the bar where they ordered coffee and found a table.

‘How was it?’ asked Gavin as he took off his denim jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.

‘Much as you’d expect — pretty awful. My mother has changed almost beyond recognition.’

Gavin raised his eyes.

‘I don’t mean physically; it’s more a personality thing. She’s become so bitter. She thought that she’d taken on cancer last time and won. She says she only agreed to the removal of her breast because the doctors convinced her it would stop the chances of the cancer coming back, so now that it has...’

‘She feels cheated.’

Caroline nodded. ‘It’s as if an invisible barrier has come down between us and it’s not possible to get through to her, however much I try. She’s there but she’s not there if you know what I mean. Mum and I have always been close, but now when I talk to her it feels like I’m speaking to a stranger. There’s something missing... the bonds between us have gone... she’s drifting away...’

Gavin nodded and put his hand on Caroline’s, but she didn’t respond. She seemed far away.

‘And your dad?’

‘Oh, he’s coming to terms with it. He realises that he’ll have to be strong for her again and it’s going to be a lot more difficult this time, particularly as she no longer has such blind faith in the medical profession.’

‘Not that that would help much in this case,’ said Gavin. ‘Liver cancer...’

‘Thank you... I’m well aware of the prognosis.’

‘Do you think there’s a chance she’ll decline treatment and just go for pain management and hospice care?’

‘You have to be very strong to do that,’ said Caroline. ‘I think she’s going to do what most of us would in the circumstances: grab at any straw that’s offered. Hearing my dad trying to convince her that treatment was improving all the time made me want to run off into the hills and scream my head off until I had no voice left.’

‘And now you’ve got Christmas coming up...’

Caroline closed her eyes. ‘Jesus Christ, Christmas,’ she murmured. ‘Deck the halls. Still, I’m sure there’s probably a store out there on the net that does presents for the dying woman.’

‘Ssh,’ said Gavin. ‘That’s not you.’

Caroline looked at him and then patted the back of his hand. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘But it is.’ She straightened her back and placed both forearms on the table. ‘So, what are you doing for Christmas?’

‘I might stay here.’

‘But why? You’ve got a big family.’

‘Eating, drinking and watching telly with my sisters and their kids, and their husbands who think that any bloke who goes to university is of questionable sexual orientation? Maybe not. The attraction of doing nothing will wear off after one day and I’d just be sitting there thinking about the experiments I could be doing if I was here. Anyway, I want to see the New Year fireworks.’

‘I think I’ll come back for that too... if I don’t feel guilty about coming away.’

Gavin lowered his head so that he could make eye contact as Caroline cast her eyes downwards. ‘How can I cheer you up?’

‘Tell me you’ve discovered a cure for cancer.’

Although Grumman Schalk had promised Frank that they would send their report on why Valdevan had failed, Gavin decided that there would be no harm in giving the matter some thought on his own. There had to be a reason why the drug didn’t work in the human body when it worked so spectacularly well in the lab — something he’d now seen for himself. It was this that kept him in the library until closing time that evening, and on just about every other when he wasn’t seeing Caroline.

By the second week in December, Gavin had the results of his experiments on lowering the concentration of Valdevan. They were disappointing, and he went in to Frank Simmons’ office to tell him.

‘No intermediate effect, boss, but it’s nice and clear: it’s either death or no effect at all. I couldn’t find a concentration that gave us membrane change without the killing.’

‘A pity,’ said Simmons, accepting the notes from Gavin. ‘But if the S16 gene is essential for cell growth and division there’s not a lot we can do about it — unless you feel like checking some intermediate concentrations... just to be absolutely sure?’

‘Sure.’

‘But whatever happens, this has been a first-class piece of work, and completed in a matter of weeks. I thought getting this far would certainly take up the first year of your project.’

‘Coming across the paper was a big plus,’ said Gavin.

‘But you were the one who came across it... you saw the relevance. Chance favours the prepared mind and all that.’

Gavin shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with praise.

‘Look, I’m well aware of your misgivings about seminars, but I really think you should consider giving one to the department about this.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Mmm,’ said Simmons, looking doubtful. ‘In the meantime...’ He picked up an A4-size padded envelope. ‘This arrived this morning from Grumman Schalk. It’s their internal report on investigations into why Valdevan didn’t work.’

Gavin extracted the plastic-covered file with the Grumman Schalk logo on it and weighed it in his hand. ‘Feels like they did a pretty thorough job.’

‘With twenty million dollars riding on it at the time, I think it fair to assume that they would,’ smiled Simmons.

‘I’m looking forward to reading this.’

‘Stay focused, Gavin. It’s all too easy to get diverted and start going up side-streets in the middle of a project. You should be thinking about moving on to one of the other membrane genes. Tom has a strain that is partially altered in the S23 gene. It was constructed by one of your predecessors, and I’ve been meaning to have someone look at its biochemistry to see if we can find a potential target for drug development.’

‘Okay,’ said Gavin, holding up the file. ‘But maybe I’ll take this home with me if you don’t mind?’

‘Of course... but give that seminar some thought.’

When the door closed, Simmons went back to reading the letter that had come with the report. It included a glossy blurb about a new research grants scheme being sponsored by Grumman Schalk, and a suggestion from Max Ehrman that he should consider applying for one. Such grants were an entirely new initiative from the company, and would be available to established researchers who held a recognised university position and were working in the broad areas of cancer diagnosis and treatment. Each grant would provide support for one or more postdoctoral workers and technical support for a period of up to three years. Larger grants would be available in exceptional circumstances.

Simmons frowned as he thought about it. In the past he had steered clear of applying to commercial companies for money because they usually had strings attached. He preferred funding from the Medical Research Council or the Wellcome Trust, although he had on one occasion been successful in attracting support from the EEC. The problem with accepting funding from drug companies was that they tended to place restrictions on what could and could not be submitted for publication. They often insisted on having the final say and this could lead to conflict.