Ken McClure - Hypocrite's Isle

‘Wow,’ said Gavin under his breath. ‘Where did all that come from?’

‘Come on, you’re not telling me the idea never crossed your mind?’ said Caroline, looking incredulous. ‘We both know that we’ve been avoiding having this conversation, ever since you got that great result in the lab, right?’

‘I suppose,’ conceded Gavin. ‘When you first told me your mother had cancer I remember thinking how great it would be if I came up with a cure for her... how impressed you’d be. You’d fall in love with me and we’d live happily ever after. And then again when I saw the tumour cells dying in the lab — but these were just fairy-tale thoughts, like standing on the terrace at a Liverpool game when the manager comes up to you through the crowd and says, “Gav, we’re a bit short of strikers.” It’s just a dream. It’s just not the way things happen...’

‘She’s got cancer; you have a possible cure. I think you should try it.’

Gavin shook his head. ‘It would be wrong. I don’t even know if it works on all kinds of tumours. There could be a cross-reaction between the two drugs in human beings. There are all sorts of reasons...’

‘And none of them valid for a woman who is in pain and dying. Paperwork is for people who are guarding their own arses... if I might quote you.’

‘But if every —’

‘We are not talking about every here. We are talking about my mother.’

Gavin rubbed his temples.

‘Think about it, Gav. That’s all I ask. Give it some serious thought?’

Gavin nodded.

‘Another beer? Crisps?’

Gavin shook his head.

‘You’re not going to go all quiet on me, are you?’

‘No, this is exactly the kind of moment when we should go on speaking to each other.’

‘So tell me what you’re thinking.’

‘I suppose I’m thinking that if I got caught doing something like this, there are a lot of people in the department who’d have a field day. Smart-arse Donnelly isn’t content with doing all the science on his own; he’s now started treating the patients. They’d laugh all the way to the courtroom.’

‘I’ll treat Mum,’ said Caroline. ‘You just give me the drugs and tell me what to do.’

‘It could destroy us both.’

‘On the other hand, it might just work.’

Gavin didn’t sleep much. He tossed and turned as he struggled to make sense of his predicament and tried to see a way out. The thing he hadn’t told Caroline was that if he were to hand over what Valdevan he had, there would be none left to carry out the final confirmatory experiments. He hadn’t said this because he felt sure that she would have seen it as just another excuse. True, the planned experiments were only repeats of what he’d done before, and the paper might still be accepted without the insurance they offered, but equally well, it might not — it would all depend on which referees it was sent out to for comments. Happily, it was unlikely that it would be sent to anyone in the same department, or even the same university, but word going out on the grapevine might still make things difficult if old pals were to make phone calls and old favours were to be called in. This was why Frank Simmons wanted the data to be watertight before they submitted for publication.

Although he felt bad about it, it wasn’t as if he had any doubts about what had to be done: the interests of the many had to be put before those of an individual, even if that individual happened to be Caroline’s mother. This was what his head was telling him, but his heart was telling him something else. Caroline loved her mother and he loved Caroline. Doing the right thing would mean hurting one of them deeply and denying the other a possible chance of life. There was also the possibility that it might already be too late for her mother — but this was just another doubt that rolled in on the tide of angst that denied him any relief from mounting stress.

He wished there was someone he could confide in, but there wasn’t. Anyone capable of understanding the factors involved was already an interested party, and therefore had an axe to grind. Frank would see publication of the science as paramount. Carrie would cling to any chance at all of helping her mother. He, of course, would like to see both these things happen. Grumman Schalk, on the other hand, were determined to consign Valdevan to history and wanted the science to disappear — as did the university, who were siding with Grumman for financial reasons. If either of these parties were to catch wind of any plan to use the drug therapeutically, they would almost certainly call in the police. Alternative agendas? He couldn’t move for them.

He didn’t fall asleep until what passed for daylight in Edinburgh on a morning in February appeared in the sky, and assured him that the demons of the night had gone. He dozed until eleven before taking a lukewarm shower and making himself some coffee and toast. His flatmates were out at work so he had the kitchen to himself as he planned the day ahead. There was now no need for him to stay away from the department. Tom Baxter’s confession had absolved him from any blame over what had happened to Mary. He and Frank had to talk, and the sooner the better.

Frank wasn’t in the lab when Gavin arrived and there was no sign of him having been there: no jacket hanging behind the door in his office and no battered briefcase sitting at the side of his desk. Gavin’s nerves stopped him hanging around waiting. He went down to the cell culture suite to see if relations had improved now that the staff knew that he wasn’t to blame for the fire.

He found Trish in contrite mood. ‘I’m so sorry, Gavin. We never dreamt that anything like that could happen, in the university of all places. Everyone was so sure it had to have been an accident, then when we heard that Tom Baxter had set the whole thing up deliberately... he must have been off his head. Makes you wonder who you’re working beside these days...’

‘The sooner we start picking up the pieces and getting back to normal the better,’ said Gavin.

‘Do you think you can? I mean, apart from you, Frank’s group has virtually gone... his lab’s a complete mess...’

‘We’ve got to try,’ said Gavin. ‘If you believe in what you’re doing you have to get on with it. Looking backwards never got anyone anywhere.’

Trish shrugged uncertainly.

‘I’m going to see if someone will give me lab space to set up a few experiments. I was wondering where I was in the queue for cell cultures right now?’

Trish looked as if she was walking on eggshells. ‘Honestly, Gavin, I’d love to be able to tell you that we’ll get right on to it, but a problem has come up. We had a circular round from Professor Sutcliffe. He says that all requests made under Frank Simmons’ grant numbers should be suspended for the time being...’

‘What for?’ exclaimed Gavin. ‘There’s loads of money in the accounts. Frank’s one of the best-funded scientists in the department.’

‘I’m sure you’re right...’ Trish looked uncomfortable. ‘But I don’t see how we can ignore it. Maybe you should speak to the prof?’

Gavin knocked on Liz’s door and entered. She looked as if she had been expecting him. ‘He’s on the phone at the moment. I’ll ask if he’ll see you when he’s finished.’

Gavin nodded, and turned his attention to the painting on the wall while Liz got back to her typing. He was on the third tilt of his head in a search for a meaningful angle when Liz said, ‘That’s him finished.’ She pressed the intercom button and said, ‘Gavin Donnelly wonders if he might have a word?’

‘Give me a couple of minutes.’

Liz made a face and Gavin turned his attention back to the picture on the wall. Five minutes later, Sutcliffe opened the door of his office and said, ‘Come in, Gavin. I’m glad you dropped by. I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today.’