A Woman of Courage (39 page)

‘Business is what I do. I'm good at it and enjoy it, so it doesn't feel like work at all. Besides, it's not just a case of making money but of contributing. The creation of wealth benefits all society. If you doubt that you only have to look at how people live in countries that don't have it.'

‘And where does that leave us?'

She walked to the window and looked out at the green stretch of lawn, the beds of red and yellow cannas blazing in the sunlight, the expanse of ocean beyond the casuarina trees. While he watched her back silently.

‘Exactly where we are now,' she said. ‘I shall come over here every year, if you'll have me. I'd like to think you'll come to Australia too. There's the telephone. There is this new email system everyone's talking about at home. We'll be able to communicate with each other every day.'

‘It won't be the same.'

‘No, it won't. But life is a compromise, isn't it? As compromises go, this seems to me a pretty good one.'

‘You asked me once why I decided to settle in Penang,' Craig said.

‘I'm not pushing you,' Hilary said. ‘But whenever you want to talk about it, I'm listening.'

‘Let me open a bottle of wine.'

He brought the wine and two glasses. They sat on the deck looking at the darkening sea and Craig talked.

When he had been in the army he had come across homeless children forced to scavenge like rats to survive.

‘I saw them for myself. I'd read how children across the world, some as young as five, were being sold into what was effectively slavery yet nothing much was being done about it. After I left the army I decided to try and change that.'

The problem was, he said, that the sort of rescue operation he had in mind was an expensive business and governments were reluctant to hand out cash for anything but their own pet projects.

‘If I had commercial backing they might agree to kick in something but without it…' He shrugged.

‘But why Penang?'

‘Because the state government here said it would provide the land if I could come up with the money.'

‘To do what?'

‘To operate a home for damaged and runaway kids. So I thought: why not? I loved the place anyway. So I put down roots and hoped something would turn up.'

‘And has it?'

‘Basically, no.'

Hilary drank wine. The sea was almost invisible now and the dark sky was a chain of stars. She watched the lights of a vessel heading south into the Malacca Strait. ‘Why didn't you tell me this before?'

‘I was afraid you might think I was trying to bludge on you.'

‘And now?'

‘Now I know you better.' He laughed. ‘Although I wouldn't say no if you agreed to help.'

Hilary thought, sipping more wine. ‘My company has a policy of supporting worthy causes. Of which this is clearly one.'

He watched her. ‘But?'

‘Until now we have confined ourselves to Australian charities.'

‘Charity begins at home?'

‘Well, it does, doesn't it?' She thought some more. ‘Let me mull over it for a while. Like it or not I am the custodian of other people's money. What sort of funding are we talking about?'

‘As much as you can provide.'

She nodded. ‘Let me think about it. I'll get back to you.'

‘From Australia?'

‘Yes.'

It was a sad day, one week later, when Craig drove her to Penang's country-style airport for the first leg of her return flight to Australia.

She collected her boarding pass and returned to where Craig was standing, a mariner shipwrecked amid a sea of faces.

‘I love you,' Craig said.

‘And I you.'

They had told each other that many times and it was as true now as it had been that first time but he shook his head, his face immeasurably sad. ‘I hate this.'

She had locked her smile in place and would not let it slip. ‘Think of it as a temporary parting.'

‘I wonder.'

She gripped his hands in hers. ‘I promise you. Unless you change your mind.'

‘That I shall never do.'

Precious words. She carried them on to the plane like a priest bearing a chalice. Courage, she thought. That was the key.

1998

A NEW HORIZON

1

On Thursday 14 July 1998 Hilary sat in her office and stared thoughtfully at the man on the other side of her desk. He was young and his slender body trembled with barely controlled energy. He also had what she thought of as visionary's eyes, looking beyond the horizon at images only he could see. She had seen the same look in photographs of the arctic explorer Fridtjof Nansen and in icons of medieval saints but William Gainsborough was neither explorer nor saint; he was a scientist, a medical doctor who claimed to be working on a discovery that would revolutionise the treatment of cancer and other genetic diseases.

It was unusual for a man like Gainsborough to get to see Hilary at all; Janet in the front office screened out most of those who came hoping for funding for this or that project. They were many, most of their ideas ludicrous or unworkable or with no realistic prospect of commercial application or success, but this man, Janet had said, was different. He had come to talk about a sheep.

‘Are you serious?'

‘Just see him, Hilary. I get the feeling he's on to something but that'll be for you to judge.'

Hilary pondered, checking the gold Patek Philippe watch that had been Craig's gift to her. ‘I'll give him five minutes,' she said. ‘Ring me after that, remind me I have a board meeting.'

It was a game they had played ever since Janet had joined her five years before.

Within a minute William Gainsborough was in her office. At first sight he could have passed as a teenager with his blond hair falling in a soft wave over his forehead but it turned out he was in his early thirties with an impressive track record and degrees from a number of important universities. He had worked as a research assistant, most recently with Ian Wilmut at Scotland's Roslin Institute, and now was heading up a laboratory in WA.

‘You want to talk to me about sheep?' Hilary said.

William laughed. ‘Maybe one specific sheep.'

Hilary found the faint Scots accent as attractive as the man but she had no time for games, verbal or otherwise. She made a point of glancing at her watch. ‘Explain.'

‘Dolly the sheep was the first mammal to be successfully cloned from a single adult stem cell.'

‘I remember reading about that. But if you're planning to clone human beings I doubt I can help you. The ethical concerns –'

‘Are huge,' he said. ‘I am well aware of that. I doubt it's possible in any case, given our present state of knowledge. I am talking about something entirely different.'

No looking at her watch now. ‘Continue.'

‘Our present research relates to the study of genetic diseases for which there is presently no cure. Within twenty years, possibly less, I believe we could be looking at the eradication of all forms of cancer, birth defects and Alzheimer's Disease, to say nothing of the damage to tendons and ligaments in the human body that at present account for over a quarter of this country's disability cases.'

‘You said we
could
be looking,' Hilary said. ‘What's the snag?'

‘What it always is,' William Gainsborough said. ‘Money. Or the lack of it.'

‘You are hoping that this company will fund, or help to fund, the research you are discussing?'

‘In a nutshell.'

‘Then, in a nutshell, the answer is no.'

He hadn't been expecting that. ‘No?'

‘Not at this point. I take it we are talking of a great deal of money?'

‘But the benefits –'

‘Just answer me, Dr Gainsborough. Are we or are we not talking of a great deal of money?'

‘It depends what you mean by a great deal.'

‘Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?'

‘It is very hard to estimate –'

‘No. I'm sorry. This won't do. Give me a straight answer or go.'

The phone rang. She lifted the receiver. ‘Ask them to wait ten minutes.'

‘I thought you'd find him interesting,' Janet said.

‘Perhaps.' Hilary replaced the receiver. Her eyes dared him. ‘You were saying?'

‘I am not prepared to put a figure on it but it will be substantial. There is need for specialist equipment…'

‘We are talking millions,' Hilary said. Putting the concept out there, flat and undeniable, so they could both see and acknowledge it.

‘Perhaps. In the long run.' He spoke reluctantly, his accent stronger now. ‘Research of this type is very expensive.'

‘You have costings? A specific proposal?'

He looked at her helplessly.

‘We are a commercial organisation,' Hilary said. ‘Not a charity. We donate money to certain charities but we have shareholders, a board of directors. You know what they will say if I go to them with a proposal like this? They'll ask what's in it for them.' It was a harsh thing to say but she chose the words deliberately. Standing on the frontier of new knowledge required huge courage. She needed to know whether this man had the guts to fight his corner. ‘What am I supposed to tell them?'

He stared back at her and his eyes did not waver. ‘Tell them there is a fortune to be made when we make a breakthrough.'

‘
When
you make a breakthrough? Don't you mean
if
?'

‘I mean when. It will come; I am sure of it. The truth is there; it is just a question of putting our finger on it.'

‘And you are confident you can?'

‘If we have the funding.'

Hmm.

‘And you say there is a fortune to be made?'

‘We're talking about a procedure. A technique. It can be patented. A joint venture could be set up between Brand Corporation and my research laboratory. And yes, there is a need for this type of treatment all over the world. Think of it: a simple injection rather than invasive surgery, a high percentage of total cures… The demand will be immeasurable.'

‘Commercial benefit from pure research? There are some won't like that.'

Gainsborough laughed scornfully. ‘They can go hang.'

‘And the risk of failure?'

‘It's there, I'll not deny it. But I would say the risk is small.'

‘There is another problem,' Hilary said. ‘You have come to me with a proposal I am not competent to assess. I would need independent advice from an expert before I could even think of taking your idea to my board.'

‘No!' Gainsborough said. ‘That would not be possible.'

‘But you must surely see it is essential.'

‘There are no experts: that is the nature of original research. In any case I could not permit it. You must understand, Ms Brand, this is my lifetime dream and my fortune. I have staked everything I have on this. Premature publication of my findings and I would lose control of the project. Call me selfish if you wish but I am not prepared to risk that.'

‘But how else am I to judge the merits of what you're telling me?'

Impasse. They looked at each other across the desk. Then Gainsborough sighed. ‘I apologise for wasting your time.'

He made to stand up.

‘Wait.'

Hilary was still watching him but in her mind another image took form: of an old woman sitting and looking vacantly at the sea while the nurse did what little she could to comfort her. An old woman who in her mental incapacity had been unable to recognise the safe return of her long-lost child.

Poor soul doesn't know which side is up any more.

‘Dr Gainsborough…' Hilary spoke slowly. ‘You say this research may help to cure a range of genetic disorders?'

‘Aye. I have no definite proof for you but I am confident that is what it will do, yes. There is no limit to its potential.'

‘My understanding is that Alzheimer's is a genetic condition for which there is at present no known cure. Is that correct?'

‘The condition is attributed to at least seventy per cent genetic factors; and yes, at the moment there is no cure.'

‘But to which your research, if successful, may find the answer?'

‘It is too early to say for certain but I believe it may well do that.'

She felt a jar in her gut and recognised it at once for what it was: a feeling of excitement both indefinable and undeniable. She had felt it several times in her life: when at sixteen she had made up her mind to run away from Pattinsons' farm; the decision to head west; opening her own real estate agency in Perth; the never-to-be-forgotten day a decade earlier when she had committed herself to Craig Laurie. Now she had the feeling again, the sense that she was standing on the threshold of something important, perhaps even life changing. In this case for her, for the company, for humanity at large.

‘I must have some independent assessment of your work. You cannot realistically expect us to provide funding purely on trust: neither business nor life works like that. But I understand your concerns. Leave it with me,' Hilary said. ‘Give me a contact number and I'll get back to you within two days.'

2

She convened a board meeting for the following morning. Her financial director came to see her at once and he was not pleased. If Robert Clarke had a pet hate it was having his plans disrupted at the last minute. He had lined up meetings with the company's banks to finalise the funding arrangements for a new multi-tower development in Cairns and the idea of having to rearrange his schedule was enough to give him indigestion.

‘Damn it all, Hilary, it sends such a bad signal to the banks.'

‘They'll get over it,' Hilary said.

‘What's so important, anyway?'

She explained briefly, knowing he would be against the idea. Robert's tidy mind abhorred what he called chaos and the idea of funding medical research would seem to him chaotic in the extreme. Sure enough: