Gavin, unused to public speaking, in fact not used to speaking very much at all, started out on a mumbled introduction which was immediately interrupted by someone at the back calling out, ‘Can you speak up, please!’
Gavin raised his voice a little, but continued to look down at the floor. ‘As I was saying, the main thrust of my research concerns the genes associated with membrane integrity...’
‘Might one ask why?’ interrupted Graham Sutcliffe, his loud, confident voice contrasting with Gavin’s nervous delivery.
Simmons felt a sense of alarm. The last thing Gavin needed was constant interruption. He noted that Sutcliffe’s lips were smiling but his eyes were as cold as ice, and suspected that it was payback time for Gavin’s refusal to participate in the postgrad teaching rota.
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ said Gavin, making Simmons close his eyes in trepidation of what might happen next.
Luckily, Gavin seemed to realise that he was walking into the trap that Sutcliffe was laying for him, and sought to move quickly on and limit the damage. ‘I mean, there is likely to be a link between the genes affecting cell division and those concerned with membrane growth and integrity. It’s a fair bet the processes are co-ordinated.’
‘A fair bet...’ intoned Sutcliffe.
‘Don’t you think, Professor?’
‘I wonder if Copernicus ever thought it “a fair bet” that the earth went round the sun,’ said Sutcliffe. The comment attracted a ripple of sycophantic laughter.
‘Is it the science or the linguistics you’re objecting to, Professor?’ asked Gavin, albeit in more controlled tones this time, but he noticed Frank Simmons close his eyes again as if in silent prayer.
‘I haven’t heard any science yet,’ said Sutcliffe coldly.
Simmons prayed that Gavin was not about to suggest that he might if only he shut his mouth and listened.
‘Then I’d best begin,’ said Gavin. He started reading from prepared text. ‘My project concerns the genes which affect membrane architecture. At the outset, my supervisor, Dr Frank Simmons, thought it might be a good idea to mutate one of these, the S16 gene, in order to establish whether or not the gene was essential. If not, we thought we might be able to detect useful differences in cell wall structure in the absence of the gene which might prove useful in an immunological sense. Luckily however, I noticed a paper in a recent edition of Cell which made passing reference to the likely mode of action of an old cancer drug named Valdevan. This in turn suggested to me an alternative approach to the project which would obviate the need for employing mutation.’
‘That’s the cancer drug which never worked?’ interrupted Peter Morton-Brown, sounding both smug and loud.
‘Sneaky little...’ murmured Mary Hollis to Tom Baxter, who was sitting beside her three rows from the back. She knew that Morton-Brown had never heard of Valdevan before she told him about it that morning, when he’d stopped to ask her in the corridor what Gavin would be talking about.
‘It was the proposed mode of action of the drug that was interesting, Peter, not its therapeutic history,’ said Gavin. ‘Can I take it you’re familiar with the latest thinking about that?’
Morton-Brown had to admit not, his lip twitching uncomfortably between a scowl and a smile. ‘Not entirely...’
‘Not entirely,’ scoffed Mary, in a whisper.
Gavin, his prepared script now abandoned and his earlier discomfort fading, was gaining confidence with each passing minute. He explained the action of the drug and how he had applied it to his work. His enthusiasm for his subject and the facts and figures he had amassed to support his experimental work were making things clear to all, even if his Liverpool accent had become more pronounced than ever with his accelerating delivery.
There were no more interruptions and he concluded with, ‘So you see, Valdevan did not fail for any of the reasons Grumman Schalk imagined — although it should be said that, at the time, they didn’t, of course, have the knowledge we now have. They took the only course of action open to them.’
‘How very charitable of you, Gavin,’ said Sutcliffe, attracting an irritated look from Frank Simmons. ‘You’ll pardon me for saying so, but we’ve known for twenty years that Valdevan didn’t work... and now you have worked out why... a personal triumph no doubt, but for the life of me, I fail to see... the point?’
Once again, and much to Frank Simmons’ relief, Gavin didn’t rise to the bait. He simply said, ‘Well, from our point of view, Professor, establishing exactly why Valdevan failed has demonstrated to us that the S16 gene is not essential. This gives us a possible approach to the problem of distinguishing tumour cells from healthy cells.’
‘But surely that’s just where you started out from?’ exclaimed Peter Morton-Brown, adopting an exaggeratedly puzzled expression and glancing at Sutcliffe as if to align himself as an ally. ‘Just thinking about the possibility of using S16 mutants for the study?’
‘Apart from the one year we’ve saved by not having to carry out mutagenesis, Peter,’ said Gavin, delivering a torpedo with a Liverpudlian accent.
A suppressed titter of laughter ran round the room and Morton-Brown’s cheeks coloured.
Jack Martin got quickly to his feet to thank Gavin for ‘an extremely interesting talk’, and brought the seminar to a close.
Mary Hollis and Tom Baxter came to the front to reassure Gavin that it had gone well, and he was grateful for friendly faces after what had gone before. ‘Let’s go get some lunch,’ suggested Mary.
‘As long as it involves beer,’ said Gavin.
Simmons watched them depart and was joined by Jack Martin as the room emptied. ‘I feel like I’ve been watching someone walk through a minefield for the past hour,’ said Simmons. ‘Just waiting for the explosion to happen.’
‘He did well, but Graham really was a bastard to him,’ said Martin. ‘Gavin’ll have to watch himself. Graham Sutcliffe could damage his future career if he puts his mind to it. Mind you, your reservations about his block grant proposal the other day didn’t endear you to our leader either.’
‘He shouldn’t take that out on the students,’ said Simmons.
‘With Gavin, I think it’s personal. He’s a bit different from the norm...’
‘I noticed Morton-Brown picking up brownie points. That bloke’s turning brown-nosing into an art form,’ said Simmons.
‘He only succeeded in making a fool of himself. All in all I think your lad did well, and the science was first class. You’re entitled to feel pleased.’
‘Let’s not go as far as pleased. Relieved is just fine. Gavin can be a real loose cannon.’
‘He’s getting better,’ said Martin.
‘It’s his girlfriend: she’s a good influence.’
January in Edinburgh was, as always, a cold, dark and almost constantly wet month, which ensured that smiles were hard to find on city streets and people developed an involuntary stoop as they habitually bowed their heads in an attempt to avoid biting winds and icy rain. The prospect of a similar February to come did little to lift spirits but much to support those who cited a lack of sunshine for their general low energy levels and absence of joie de vivre.
Gavin spent his three weeks of grace confirming his theory on the link between Valdevan’s action and cell growth rate, and verifying that there was a concentration which would damage tumour cell membranes but leave healthy cells unaffected — although his satisfaction in doing this was countered by the fact that he couldn’t, as yet, think of a way of utilising it. The confirmation of the growth rate data, however, pleased Frank Simmons and left him feeling more confident about telling Max Ehrman when he arrived in Edinburgh on the Friday of that week. This was two days before the conference at Heriot Watt University was due to begin, but Ehrman had expressed the wish to Simmons that he wanted to see a bit of the city before registration on the Sunday. He had suggested that he come in to the department some time on Friday morning and Simmons had readily agreed, something that Graham Sutcliffe was clearly annoyed about when he found out. He entered Simmons’ office without knocking and said, ‘Liz has just told me that Professor Ehrman from Grumman Schalk will be in the department on Friday. Why wasn’t I informed?’