6
At Harlow, Yvonne Evans and Martin Peat-Smith were spending an increasing amount of time together. Although Yvonne still kept a small apartment she had rented when beginning work at the Felding-Roth institute, she was seldom there. Every weekend and most weeknights she was at Martin's house, where she happily took over the domestic side of Martin's life as well as attending to his-and her own-sexual needs. Yvonne had reorganized the kitchen, which was now orderly and gleaming. From it she produced appetizing meals, exercising a talent as a versatile cook which seemed to come to her naturally and which she enjoyed. Each morning before they left, separately, for work, she made the bed she and Martin shared, seeing to it that the linen was clean and changed more frequently than in the past. She left notes with instructions for the "daily," the cleaning woman, with the result that the remainder of the house took on the immaculate appearance that comes from an eye for detail, which Yvonne had, and proper supervision. Some changes in the pet m6nage were also made by Yvonne. She added a Siamese cat of her own. Then, one Saturday when Martin was working but Yvonne wasn't, she brought a saw and other tools with which she constructed a hinged "cat flap" in a rear downstairs door. It meant that the cats were free to come and go at any time, the effect being healthier for the pets and for the household. Also, when Yvonne stayed overnight she exercised the dogs in the early morning, supplementing the regular exercise Martin gave them every evening. Martin loved it all. Something else he loved was Yvonne's cheerful, usually inconsequential chatter. She talked about a multitude of subjects, few of great importance--current films, the private lives of stars, pop musicians and their offstage antics; which London stores were having sales, and the latest buys at Marks and Spencer; the telly; gossip of the institute--who had become engaged, was pregnant, or about to be divorced; sexual excesses of the clergy, as reported in the vigilant British press; even a political scandal or two... Yvonne absorbed such matters, garnered from listening and selective reading, like a sponge. Strangely, not only did Martin not object to hearing all this, at times he found it refreshing and a change and, at other times, like background music. The point was, he decided when he thought about it, he was surrounded so much of the time by intellectuals whose conversation was on a serious scientific plane, with trivia excluded, that he grew weary of it. When he listened to Yvonne he could coast contentedly, leaving his brain in neutral. One of Yvonne's interests-a near-passion-was the Prince of Wales. His much-publicized romances fascinated, though sometimes worried her. She discussed them endlessly. A name linked with Charles's at the time was Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. Yvonne refused to take the gossip seriously.”A marriage would never work," she assured Martin.”Besides being a Catholic, Marie-Astrid isn't right.”
"How do you know?" he asked. "I just do.”
Another touted candidate, Lady Amanda Knatchbull, found more favor.”She could be okay," Yvonne conceded.”But if only Charles will be patient, I'm sure someone else will come along who's more right for him, even perfect.”
"He's probably worrying himself, so why not write and tell him?" Martin suggested. As if she hadn't heard, Yvonne declared thoughtfully and with a touch of poetry, "What he needs is an English rose.”
One night after Yvonne and Martin had made love, he teased her, "Were you pretending I was the Prince of Wales?" She answered mischievously, "How did you know?" Despite her penchant for chitchat, Yvonne was no birdbrain, Martin discovered. She showed interest in other things, including the theory behind the mental aging project, which Martin patiently explained and which she seemed to understand. She was curious about his devotion to the writings of John Locke, and several times he found her with an open copy of Locke's Essay, her forehead creased in concentration. "It isn't easy to understand," Yvonne admitted. "No, not for anyone," he said.”You have to work at it.”
As to their liaison and possible gossip, Martin was sure that some was circulating-Harlow was too small a place for that not to happen. But at the research institute he and Yvonne were discreet, never communicating with each other unless their work required it. Apart from that, Martin took the view that his private life was his own affair. He had given no thought as to how long the relationship between himself and Yvonne would continue, but from their casual remarks it was clear that neither saw it as demanding, or more than temporary - An enthusiasm they shared was the progress of the Harlow research. As Martin wrote in one of his rare reports to New Jersey: "The structure of Peptide 7 is now known. The gene has been made, inserted into bacteria, and large amounts have been prepared.”
The process, he noted, was "much like the preparation of human insulin.”
At the same time, tests for Peptide Ts safety and effectiveness continued via injections into animals. A vast amount of animal data was accumulating, to the point where permission for human trials would be sought within the next few months. Perhaps inevitably, rumors about the institute's research leaked out and reached the press. Though Mar-tin declined requests to give interviews, arguing that anything printed would be premature, reporters found other sources and newspaper accounts appeared anyway. On the whole they were accurate. Speculation about a "wonder drug to delay growing old, now being tried on animals" was given prominence, as well as "the drug's remarkable weight-reducing effect.”
All of this aroused Martin's anger because clearly someone on the scientific staff had been indiscreet. On Martin's instruction, Nigel Bentley attempted to find out who had talked, but without success. "Actually," the administrator pointed out, "the publicity hasn't done much harm, if any. The scientific world already has a good idea of what you're doing-remember those two consultants you had in. And titillating the public now could help sales of Peptide 7 later on.”
Martin was unconvinced, but let the matter drop, One unwelcome effect of the publicity was a flood of letters, pamphlets and petitions from "animal-rights" crusaders--extremists who objected to experiments of any kind on animals. Some described Martin and his Harlow staff as "sadists," "torturers," "barbarians" and "heartless criminals.”
As Martin told Yvonne after reading samples of the more vituperative mail at home, "All countries have their anti-experimentation kooks, but Britain is the worst.”
He picked up another letter, then put it down in disgust.”These people don't just want animal suffering kept to a minimum-which I'm in favor of, and I believe in laws to enforce it. But they want our kind of science, which has to use animals, to come to a screeching halt.”
Yvonne asked, "Do you think there'll be a time when research won't need animals at all?" "Someday perhaps, yes. Even now, in places where we used to use animals we're using methods like tissue cultures, quantum pharmacology, and computers instead. But doing without animals entirely...”
Martin shook his head.”It could happen, but not for a long time.”
"Well, don't let it get to you.”
Yvonne collected the protest letters and stuffed them back into a briefcase.”Besides, think of our animals. Because of Peptide 7, they're healthier and smarter.,, But her words failed to change Martin's mood. The recent mail influx had depressed him. Overall at the institute, however, the contrast to the early days of groping-when there was so little progress and only negative results-was so great that Martin confided to Rao Sastri, "I'm worried. When anything goes this well, a major setback can be just around the corner.”