Ken McClure - Hypocrite's Isle

‘Anything, Carrie.’

‘You have a car. I have a delivery to make.’

Moira stopped outside the Simmonses’ house and Carrie got out, carrying Gavin’s laptop and the Valdevan paper. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said.

‘Take as long as you need.’

Jenny opened the door. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m Caroline, Gavin’s girlfriend.’

‘Oh, my God. We’ve just read it in the papers. Oh, my dear, what can I say? Come in, please. I don’t know if you know Frank?’

‘Yes, from my classes.’

Jenny led the way into the kitchen, where Frank Simmons was sitting, arms crossed on the table, with the Scotsman open in front of him.

‘It’s Gavin’s girlfriend, Caroline,’ said Jenny softly.

Simmons got to his feet slowly, as if in a trance. He was wondering what fate was about to throw at him now. He gestured with one hand to the paper. ‘Caroline, I wish I could think of something sensible to say... but I can’t. This is absolutely bloody awful. I’m so sorry.’

Jenny ushered Caroline into a chair opposite Simmons, and they both sat down while Jenny made fresh coffee. Although Caroline could see that Simmons was genuinely upset, she also sensed that he was wondering why she was there. ‘I thought you should have these,’ she said, pushing the three copies of the Valdevan paper across the table, and immediately invoking in Simmons memories of Gavin recently doing the same thing.

‘Thanks,’ said Simmons, looking down at the title page, but really wondering what he was going to find in Caroline’s eyes when he looked up. When he did, there was no anger there, only sadness, and something he suspected might be resolve.

Caroline put Gavin’s laptop on the table and said, ‘The paper’s also on the hard drive. You can return the laptop to me when you’ve done whatever you plan to do with it... if anything... and I’ll return it to his folks.’

The if anything hung in the air like an accusation.

‘Thank you,’ said Simmons.

Jenny brought over coffee, but Caroline got to her feet saying, ‘Not for me, thanks, there’s someone waiting outside. I just thought I’d bring these over and tell you, Frank.’

‘Tell me what?’ asked Simmons in trepidation.

‘Gavin didn’t blame you.’

Jenny showed Caroline out, and returned to the kitchen to find Simmons sitting staring at the closed laptop. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ said Simmons quietly, continuing to stare at the laptop.

‘Frank?’

Simmons suddenly smashed his fist down on the table and looked up at Jenny. ‘I am most definitely not all right. We are not going to Australia. We’re not going anywhere. We are staying here. I’ve got too much to do.’

In the silence that followed, it dawned on Simmons that there had been no reaction from Jenny. ‘Well?’ he prompted.

‘It would seem that I’ve just got my husband back,’ said Jenny. ‘And about time too, if I may say so.’

Simmons shook his head. ‘I NEVER EVER AGAIN want to feel the way that girl has just made me feel.’

Jenny stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘You did what you did for the noblest of reasons, Frank... as always... and your children and I thank you for it. But maybe this time... the safe option was not the one to go for?’

Simmons squeezed her hand.

‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘I need the names of every scientific or medical correspondent on every national newspaper in the UK. Someone is going to listen.’

Only a small group of people outside immediate family attended the funeral of Gavin Donnelly in Liverpool. When the flowers were removed at the end of the ceremony, attendants were puzzled to find, lying under them, a can of Stella Artois lager and a packet of bacon-flavoured crisps. A short note said,

I won’t play the game either, Gav, I promise.

Love always,

Carrie. xxx.

Although a work of fiction, Hypocrites’ Isle is based on something that happened to me when I was a researcher in microbial genetics. I was working on the genes determining cell shape in the bacterium E. coli , when I stumbled across the reason why an old antibiotic had failed in practice when, in the research lab, it had appeared to have great promise, and had been given an expensive launch by its manufacturer some twenty years before. I also discovered how it could be used to great effect if it were to be combined in a particular way with other drugs. My hope was that this new technique could be used to clear up a persistent, recurrent, urinary tract infection called pyelonephritis. This condition is nearly always caused by E. coli , and affects a great many people across the world, mainly women. Although not fatal, it often becomes chronic, and many women suffer from recurring infections throughout their lives.

I was naïve in thinking that the drug company would be delighted. They didn’t want to know. I was later to discover that the antibiotic in question was out of patent, and the company no longer had the exclusive right to make it. Apart from that, it would have been difficult for them to relaunch a product that had already failed, and sales of their more recently developed drugs would have suffered. A more cynical view put to me at the time was that chronic conditions are big cash cows for the pharmaceutical industry, much more so than any condition they can clear up.

Not happy with the commercial view of things, I approached the university body which acted as an interface between academia and business. They were very excited at first, but became less enthusiastic when they learned that the new treatment did not involve any new compounds: they wanted something they could patent to ‘protect the university’s interests’. They thought that it might be possible to patent the intellectual property of the idea, and this was confirmed by lawyers, but in the end they pulled out, arguing that E. coli was a relatively ‘soft’ pathogen and there were plenty of other drugs available to treat it. I approached my employer at the time, the Medical Research Council, who had a similar body. They informed me that, as I had already told the pharmaceutical company about my findings, it would actually be impossible for them to patent the idea, so they had no further interest.

At no time did anyone think that just curing the disease was a good idea: everyone I approached was primarily concerned with whether or not they could make money. My assertion that I just wanted the idea to be put into practice cast me in the role of an ivory tower academic, who didn’t understand ‘the real world’.