Hypocrite's Isle (21 page)

It was, and the air was full of the comforting smell of home baking. Only two of the ten or so tables were occupied, one by an elderly couple who had kept on all their outdoor clothing,
including
hats and scarves, and the other by a mother with a two-year-old sitting in a push-chair beside her. She was keeping the child amused by blowing bubbles from a toy that comprised a plastic
battery-operated
fan and a small tub of soap solution. The child squealed with delight each time a stream of bubbles left the soap-filled loop. Gavin and Caroline found the laughter infectious: Gavin pretended to try to catch the bubble that drifted briefly in his direction and caused yet more laughter as he feigned complete incompetence.

A waitress, who seemed immune to childish laughter and to whom smiling would have required maxillofacial surgery, brought a tray with their coffee and fruit scones on it and laid it down without comment. Gavin made a face behind her back and the child giggled.

‘You’d cause trouble in an empty house,’ said Caroline.

Gavin munched on his scone. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

‘What’s been happening?’

The BBC was in the department, talking about some cancer programme they’re planning.’

‘Is Frank going to be in it?’

Gavin shook his head. ‘He was asked, apparently, but declined – said he’s got nothing worth reporting.’

‘So who has?’

‘Ain’t that the big question?’ replied Gavin. ‘There were plenty of big names around.’ He paused to make a funny face at the child, who had been strapped into his pram and was being wheeled to the door. ‘As for big results … it’s my guess the big discoveries will all be round the next corner as usual. And like tomorrow … they’ll never come.’

‘You’ll change all that,’ said Caroline.

‘I love you,’ said Gavin.  

‘I love you too, but right now I have to get down to some serious study of the process of conception if I’m to pass this exam
tomorrow
and move on to neurological and musculoskeletal.’

‘Well, if I can be of any assistance in the study of conception …’

‘Watch it.’

As they walked back to the medical school, Caroline said, ‘You like children, don’t you?’

‘I suppose. What made you say that?’

‘The child in the café.’

‘He was a lot more fun than the waitress. Did you see the look in his eyes when he saw the bubbles? I like that, a mixture of joy and wonder. You don’t see it in adults. Too many other things pop up in their heads at the same time – it’s a trick; it’s a trap; there must be a logical explanation.’

‘I liked the expression on his face when you tried to catch them.’

‘When there was more chance of catching the moon.’

‘But he thought you could do it.’

Gavin stopped walking and stared straight ahead.

‘What’s the matter? . . Gavin, what’s the matter?’

‘The bubbles …’

‘What about them?’

‘The bubbles were so fragile that they ruptured at the slightest contact. If something came along to disrupt an already damaged membrane … the cell might rupture and die …’

‘Gavin, would you please tell me what you’re talking about,
instead
of behaving as if you’re getting messages from Mars?’

Gavin looked at her, but still seemed distant and preoccupied. ‘Valdevan causes damage to the cell membrane. These little blips could be vulnerable areas: they might cause the cells to explode like the bubbles did if they came into contact with … something … but only the cells that had them would die. There’s a concentration of Valdevan which only produces blips in tumour cells. We might be able to kill these cells off without damaging the healthy ones!’

‘Wow,’ said Caroline. ‘But cells aren’t soap bubbles.’

‘In effect they are. They have a thin phospholipid membrane that keeps them intact despite the fact they are under quite a bit of internal pressure. If anything should rupture the membrane they’ll explode.’

‘But how would you make them … explode?’

Gavin wrapped his arms round her and said, ‘That’s what I have to find out.’ He kissed her forehead and ran off, saying that he was going to the medical library. He’d call her tomorrow. ‘Good luck with the exam!’

 

After four hours of flitting between internet searches on the library computer and the pharmaceutical bookshelves, Gavin decided that cationic detergent drugs – in particular the polymyxins – might be his best bet for some initial experiments, but his problem might be getting his hands on some. He had two choices. One, he could confide in Frank Simmons and hope that he might be enthusiastic enough to let him order some on the lab grant and carry out
preliminary
work on the idea or, two, he could try to obtain some on his own and perform a couple of trial experiments at night before he said anything to anyone. He thought the latter possible because he had just read that polymyxin was not only used as a drug, it was also used by microscopists as a spreading agent. There was a good chance that the microscope lab downstairs in the medical school might have some.

Gavin was standing outside the locked double doors of the microscopy suite in the medical school when Norman Singleton, the chief microscopy technician, arrived. ‘Samples for EM?’ he asked. ‘There’s a basket just round the corner. You can leave them there with a request form.’

‘No, I’m on the scrounge,’ said Gavin. ‘I need some polymyxin. I thought you guys might have some?’

‘You just might be in luck there,’ said Singleton, unlocking the doors and leading the way inside. Gavin followed him through the reception area and across a green-lit room where two electron microscopes sat like periscopes rising from their control desks.

‘Through here,’ said Singleton, leading the way into a smaller lab where two expensive-looking Zeiss light microscopes sat side by side on a bench, one with a conventional, tungsten light source
attached
, the other emitting a violet glow from the UV lamp secured to its base. ‘I used some recently for a nuclear prep I did for the Jackson group. Here we are,’ he said, opening a fridge door and taking out a small bottle. ‘polymyxin B. How much do you need?’

Gavin shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not sure to be quite honest. Depends if it works for what I have in mind.’

‘Why don’t you take the bottle?’ suggested Singleton. ‘We don’t use the stuff a lot. If I need it, I’ll get back to you.’

 

Gavin was whistling when he reached the lab. This drew a
disapproving
look from Tom Baxter and the comment, ‘God protect me from happy people. What have you got to be so cheerful about?’

‘Guess I’m just a happy-go-lucky sort of a guy,’ said Gavin.

Mary and Tom exchanged glances of exaggerated disbelief.

‘Or maybe …’ Gavin paused while he took out the cell
preparation
from the previous day from the fridge, ‘it’s just the prospect of biochemistry for the next six months that’s pushing me over the edge …’

The other two seemed more comfortable with this suggestion.

Gavin slipped the polymyxin B inside a plastic box in the fridge with his name scrawled in marker-pen on the lid and closed the door. Periodically throughout the day, when he had a lull in the biochemistry protocol he was following, he would gather things together for the evening’s work ahead. He had cell cultures of both tumour and normal cells growing in the incubator: he had Valdevan and polymyxin and he had a good supply of sterile glassware.

The excitement he felt at the prospect of stepping into the
unknown
caused several more outbreaks of whistling throughout the day, before night fell and people started to go home.

‘Going to be here long?’ asked Mary as she put on her coat.

‘Another hour or so,’ replied Gavin. ‘Everything takes so long with biochemistry.’

‘It’ll be worth it in the end.’

Tom had already left for a dental appointment. Frank Simmons was the next to leave at a quarter to six. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked as he came out his office with his coat on and carrying his briefcase.

‘No problems, pretty straightforward really. It’s just the waiting between reactions that’s the bummer …’

‘It was ever thus,’ smiled Simmons. ‘Take my advice and buy a book of crossword puzzles. You’ll get pretty good at them before the project’s over.’

Gavin smiled and felt a tingle of excitement as the door closed and he was finally alone in the lab. He brought out the drugs from the fridge and made up sterile solutions – seeing it as the first step on the road … to what? But this was why he’d gone into research. This was the tingle that said it was the best job in the world.
Ultimately
, it would be researchers who would uncover the secrets of life on earth. It would be they who’d uncover the meaning of it all – where we came from, where we were going and, even more
importantly
, why. As far as Gavin was concerned, every other job on the planet was just part of a network of service industries, required only to keep the machinery of discovery moving along.

There was a limit to how much he could do on this, his first evening. It was more a case of getting things up and running, but taking the first step of any journey was exciting. Before he could test the action of polymyxin on tumour cells he would need a
supply
of them, treated with Valdevan and displaying the characteristic membrane blips. This would take a couple of days, but they should be ready by the weekend when the lab would be quiet and he would have more time to experiment without anyone asking what he was doing. Everything was up and running by eight thirty. The
Valdevan
-treated cells had been placed in the incubator and a range of polymyxin solutions sat in the fridge.

He would have enough in the way of cell cultures for the initial experiments, but would have to order up some more from Trish for the next stage. The tumour cells, which he was also using for the biochemistry, would not pose a problem. Ordering up supplies of normal cells might raise an eyebrow or two when the monthly grant accounts came in, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. In any case, he would have his results by then.

He called Caroline to ask how her exam had gone.

‘Okay, I think,’ she replied. ‘I must have taken in more than I thought.’

‘Look, I’m sort of assuming you’re going home this weekend?’ he added tentatively.

‘Sounds like you’re planning to work,’ said Caroline, but not unkindly. ‘But yes, I think I will. I’ll be starting a new module next week so it’s probably a good time to go. How did it go this evening?’

‘Things are up and running but it’ll take a couple of days before the cells are ready to test. That’s what I’ll be doing at the weekend.’

‘God, it would be so fantastic if it worked.’

‘Fingers crossed.’

 

Gavin was in the lab by 6 a.m. on Saturday morning when he knew it would be quiet. Others – mainly grad students – would come in and out throughout the day to check on experiments and set up cultures, but that probably wouldn’t start happening until after ten. Student Saturdays usually started with hangovers. His heart was in his mouth when he took out the Valdevan cultures and examined them under the inverted microscope, but everything was fine. He could see the membrane blips.