Gavin sought out a quiet hollow in the hill in which to eat his sandwiches — well back from the path to avoid human contact. As a natural loner this was the usual thing for him to do, but today it made him stop and think. He found himself facing up to the fact that even out here in the hills he felt and behaved like an outsider and, for once, invoking Sartre’s maxim that ‘Hell is other people’ wasn’t working as well as it usually did. It had supported him well through Cambridge, but just recently, the combined efforts of Mary in the lab and Caroline, as well as other kindnesses he had encountered, were exposing flaws in the philosophy. If he wanted his relationship with Caroline to progress — and he did — he would have to do something about changing his outlook. He would not desert his principles, but he would have to consider seeking a happy medium. This was also true in professional relationships. The screw-the-world philosophy had worked throughout his undergraduate years because he had been simply acquiring knowledge that was already accessible without any real need for human contact. Books had told him what he needed to know, and his natural intelligence had enabled him to understand, use and interpret what he’d read.
Postgraduate study, however, was different. Although there was still much to absorb from the scientific knowledge base, he was now a researcher in his own right and therefore expected to increase that knowledge base by contributing to it. While it was not inconceivable that he could do this as a loner, it would be that much more difficult unless he was a genius, and he wasn’t. He smiled wryly as he got to his feet and fastened the straps on his rucksack. Maybe Gavin Donnelly would make some New Year’s resolutions. The thought gave him a fit of the giggles as he started climbing the next hill.
If anything, the view from the top of Bell’s Hill was even better, affording him as it did the sight of the winter sun sparkling off the waters of Threipmuir Reservoir far below and stretching out to the west. The feeling of well-being that he was getting from the physical effort of the climb and the beautiful views was doing much to make this a memorable day. He abandoned his earlier plan to start heading back when he reached the reservoir crossing at Black Springs, and instead continued west on what appeared to be a little-used path along the north side of Black Hill. The new plan was to continue on up to a spot marked on the map as Green Cleugh where he would start heading back via the Red Moss nature reserve.
Later, as he waited for the bus back to town, the fading of the light and the reddening sky signalled the end of the day and reminded Gavin that they had just passed the winter solstice. They were a very long way from spring. The temperature was falling, heralding another frosty night, and grit-spreading vehicles were out on the roads of the city.
Caroline called Gavin to say that she would be back on 30 December, and he was there to meet her at Waverley station when her train pulled in. They walked down Waverley Bridge and turned into Market Street, heading for a coffee shop attached to an art gallery that they often used when they were in town.
‘How’s your mother?’
‘Sick as a dog, hair falling out, becoming more bitter and twisted by the day, just what you’d expect, but let’s not dwell on it,’ said Caroline, clearly uncomfortable at discussing it. ‘Tell me about something else. How have you been getting on?’
‘Okay, I guess.’ Gavin gave a half-hearted smile before diverting his eyes to look down at the table.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, everything’s fine...’
‘Out with it.’
‘Oh, I’ve got some results I don’t understand and it’s sort of getting to me.’
‘So tell me about it. I need distraction.’
‘Where do I begin?’ exclaimed Gavin, spreading his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. ‘I suppose it all boils down to the results I’m getting this time not being the same as the ones I got last time.’
‘Irreproducible data.’ Caroline intoned it like a death sentence. ‘Not good.’
‘It’s crazy. The results I got first time were exactly the same as the people at Grumman Schalk got but now, suddenly, everything’s different.’
‘So something must have changed.’
‘I had to make up some new cell culture fluid.’
‘There you are then. The cells don’t like it. They’re not growing properly.’
‘But they are. The control cultures are growing and dividing perfectly normally. Trouble is, so are the ones with the drug in them.’
‘You mean Valdevan isn’t killing them any more?’
‘You got it.’
‘Maybe the drug’s gone off... an old solution?’
‘That would be good if it was true,’ agreed Gavin. ‘But the cells are showing membrane damage. The drug’s working okay.’
‘I seem to remember you saying something like that once before. Isn’t that what happens in the body?’
‘Exactly,’ said Gavin. ‘The tumour cells show membrane damage in the body but they don’t die... it’s never happened in the lab before, though.’
Caroline took in the worried look on Gavin’s face and leaned towards him. ‘This may not be all bad,’ she said. ‘Look at it this way. Instead of a bad result, you have — inadvertently, I grant you — created the very problem that exists in the body. What’s more, you’ve done it in the lab which is a much better place to study it, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose...’
‘No suppose about it. You have, haven’t you?’
‘Okay, you could be right.’
‘So wipe that miserable look off your face and let’s start making plans for the fireworks tomorrow. Where shall we go to watch them?’
‘I thought you had tickets for Princes Street?
‘I have and it’s the best place, but we’ll be packed like sardines.’
‘But if it’s ticketed, surely it won’t be too bad?’
‘It was ticketed last year,’ said Caroline. ‘But they give all the sardines tickets. It’s a big television event so the city bosses want the world to see thousands and thousands of people, packed together, convincing the world they’re having a good time.’
‘When they’re not?’
‘The fireworks are brilliant, make no mistake about it, but having drunks slobber over you at midnight, wading through broken glass and having people pee on your shoes tends to detract...’
‘Jesus.’
‘We can watch them from somewhere else if you’d rather,’ said Caroline, seeing the alarm on Gavin’s face. ‘They say the view you get from the Botanic Gardens down at Inverleith is pretty good and it’s not nearly so crowded... or even Blackford Hill? That shouldn’t be too bad.’
‘I think we should head for the heart of the party,’ said Gavin, with a conviction he hoped didn’t sound too false.
‘If you’re sure?’ Caroline sounded far from certain.
‘You bet.’ Inside his head Gavin was already steeling himself for the nightmare ahead and planning a master class in turning the other cheek, but Caroline needed something to cheer her up and she was so looking forward to the fireworks. He mustn’t ruin it with his hatred of crowds. ‘I’ll give you a hand with your stuff back to Pollock Halls.’
‘I’m not going to Pollock,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m staying with Gina, one of my classmates. She’s got a flat in Polwarth Gardens. Two of her flatmates are away and won’t be back until the 3rd.’
‘Well, I think I’m going to go in to the lab for a while,’ said Gavin once Caroline was settled into her room in the Polwarth flat. He was looking out of the third-floor window at the Christmas trees in many of the windows of the flats opposite while she unpacked her rucksack. He felt that they probably reflected their owners every bit as much as the cars parked in the street below, and mentally matched the artificial black one with the minimalist white lighting to the Audi, while the bushy Norway spruce with its flashing coloured lights went with the Fiat Punto.