‘It’s not going to be easy, meeting him after what he’s done. You won’t lose your temper, will you?’
Gavin shook his head. ‘Like you say, there’s probably much more to it than we’re seeing.’
Twenty-three
Gavin had a pint of lager in the Abbotsford after seeing Caroline off at the station. It took the edge off the feeling that their lives would never be the same again, but despite the temptation to go on drinking, he stopped at one. It wasn’t oblivion he needed to embrace right now, it was a sense of purpose. He decided to go home and start typing the paper into his laptop.
Before he could start, he had to decide on which journal the paper should be sent to, because this would determine the format of the text and tables. Frank had mentioned several possibilities at the outset but had not, as far as he knew, come to any firm decision. It didn’t take Gavin long to decide to go for broke and write it up for Nature — one of the most prestigious scientific journals in the world. If Frank disagreed, the text and data would at least be in the computer. It would be easy enough to re-format it for another journal.
He had a couple of copies of Nature among his books and papers, so he looked up the ‘Instructions to Authors’ section in one of them.
Entering the text of the paper was straightforward, but when it came to inserting tables, his progress slowed to a crawl as he struggled to present data in the way the journal stipulated. He was still wrestling with the software when the first of his flatmates, Tim Anderson, arrived home and offered to help. ‘Microsoft Excel is my middle name, Gav.’
Fifteen minutes later, Gavin was biting back the urge to point out to Tim that his first name should be ‘Unable to Use’, as skills learned in the world of life insurance did not translate well to Gavin’s needs. ‘Sorry, mate, I’m stumped.’
It took Gavin another hour back in his own room before things became clear, and the tables could be aligned in the stipulated way.
‘How’s it going?’ asked his flatmate, when he went through to the kitchen to make himself a coffee.
‘Sorted.’
Caroline phoned just after 8 p.m. ‘Mum’s had her first injection. I gave her it while Dad was doing evening surgery.’
‘Does she know exactly what you’re doing?’
‘I told her everything,’ said Caroline. ‘She reacted just like I thought she would: her outlook changed in an instant. Now I understand how easy it is for charlatans to prey on the afflicted. I warned her that there was only the slimmest of chances it would work, and that it had never been tried on anyone before, but she saw the one thing missing from her life — hope — and snatched at it. She’s been like a different woman.’
‘Your dad will wonder what’s going on.’
‘She’s promised to keep it secret. We came to an agreement.’
Gavin was pleased to hear Caroline sounding positive, even optimistic, but this was an unreal situation. He suspected that she hadn’t looked ahead to what might happen if the treatment should fail. The plunge from hope into despair, and possibly bitterness, might well be even more dramatic. He tried broaching the subject.
‘Believe me, I spelled it out to her. I went to enormous lengths to stress how experimental this was. Come on, let’s not talk about failure on the very first day?’
Gavin agreed.
‘What have you been up to?’
Gavin told her of his travails with Microsoft Excel.
‘I’m convinced that half the workforce in this country spend their time trying to solve computer problems,’ said Caroline.
‘And the other half spend their time creating them.’
‘When d’you think you’ll have finished the paper?’
‘Another two or three days, and then I’ll arrange with Jenny to see Frank and get him to look it over it and do the letter.’
‘Do you know how he is?’
‘Jenny didn’t want anyone from the lab calling.’
Gavin’s flatmate took the finished paper to work with him on Thursday morning on a floppy disk, and returned in the evening with three laser-printed copies, courtesy of the insurance company’s professional quality printers. Gavin called Frank’s number and Jenny answered.
‘Jenny, it’s Gavin. How is he?
‘Oh, he’s a lot better, thanks, Gavin. ‘A bit lacking in the joie de vivre department, but that’s only to be expected. I’ve got him doing all the little jobs round the house he’s been avoiding for ages. I guess it’s him you want to speak to...’
‘Hello, Gavin,’ said Frank’s voice.
‘Hi, Frank, I was wondering if we might meet up and have a talk?’
‘I was thinking much the same thing,’ said Simmons. ‘I don’t think I want to sit with the ghosts in the lab right now, so why don’t you come out here, say tomorrow about eleven?’
‘Great, look forward to it.’ Gavin put the phone down slowly, not quite sure what he was feeling. The situation seemed strangely surreal. Frank doing jobs round the house after all that had happened...
‘Everything all right, Gav?’ asked Tim.
‘Sure. Come on; I’ll buy you a beer.’
Gavin felt apprehensive as he got off the bus and walked towards Frank’s house. He felt angry about Frank running off to Australia, but on the other hand he understood how he must be feeling after all that had happened. He liked Frank, and he thought that Frank had come to like him, but he knew their relationship hadn’t developed to a point where they could put all their cards on the table and say exactly what they were feeling. He saw the visit as an exercise in damage limitation. He had his laptop in his rucksack and the three copies of the paper. If all went well and Frank didn’t insist on the paper being submitted to some journal other than Nature — and he couldn’t see why he should, because this was groundbreaking science — he could have everything in the post by that evening. That would be such a good feeling, and if the paper was accepted — which was a much bigger ‘if’ with the experiments not having been duplicated, but still very possible because of the importance of the subject matter — his worries about his doctorate and future career prospects could well be over. He would be out of reach of the Sutcliffes of this world.
Frank opened the door and invited him in, saying that Jenny was at work at the surgery. ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks. How are you feeling?’ asked Gavin, as he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Simmons, filling two mugs from a coffee flask. He plonked them down on the table and pushed sugar and milk towards Gavin. ‘A bit numb, I suppose. One minute I have a lab and a research group, the next minute I don’t. I’ve got nothing.’
Gavin gave a nod but did not speak.
‘I keep seeing the look on Mary’s parents’ faces when they saw her lying there. As for Tom’s parents and what they must be going through...’
‘Maybe the least said the better,’ said Gavin, with a hardness that Simmons picked up on. ‘Of course, he meant it for you,’ he said. ‘It’s all such a mess...’
‘I hear you’re off to Australia?’
Simmons nodded, becoming aware of Gavin’s level gaze, and breaking off eye contact to concentrate on stirring his coffee. ‘Jenny has relatives there. Give me a chance to recharge the batteries, that sort of thing.’
‘Professor Sutcliffe wouldn’t allow me to finish off the Valdevan experiments. He’s offered me a change of project.’
Simmons looked down at the table surface. ‘Look, Gavin, I’m sorry.’
Gavin felt anger rise up in him but he kept it in check. ‘There’s still a chance we can get the stuff published without the extra insurance of duplicate results,’ he said, opening his rucksack and bringing out the paper. ‘I’ve written it up for Nature but I could change it if you really wanted.’ He pushed it towards Simmons, who said quietly, ‘Nature’s fine... exactly where it should be.’