Read Online Hypocrite's Isle by Ken McClure - Free Book Online Page B

resist …’
     
    Gavin left the flat at just after nine the next morning and set out to walk to the lab. He was sore, but the pain was offset to some extent by the fact that it was such a pretty morning, with the sun shining on the castle ramparts as he crossed Princes Street at the junction with Hanover Street and started up the Mound. The Norway Spruce Christmas tree – a traditional present to the city from the Norwegian government – was already in place near the top awaiting the night, coming soon, when its lights would be ceremoniously switched on by some local celebrity.
    He couldn’t help but think that the decorations he could see on the lamp-posts in Princes Street paled into insignificance against the natural beauty of the frost on the grass in Princes Street Gardens. Their presence, however, reminded Gavin that he had still not decided whether to go home for Christmas or stay here in Edinburgh.
    He knew he’d been putting it off because he’d been hoping that Caroline might invite him home with her to the Lake District – but that, of course, was now out of the question. Whether it had ever been a real possibility was open to conjecture, and he was well aware that falling heavily for someone, as he had done for Caroline, could lead to a sense of the unreal intruding on his grasp of things. He’d been finding it all too easy to fantasise about walking through snow-covered woods in Cumbria with his arm round her as they sought out holly berries and sprigs of mistletoe to bring home and decorate a room where a log fire burned bright, filling the air with its scent. He saw them sipping mulled wine and cuddling up on the couch while Caroline’s parents – who had taken to him instantly – smiled benevolently and exchanged knowing glances of approval about a possible future son-in-law.
    That fantasy had been destroyed. Caroline would be going home for Christmas, but she would be travelling alone to a house where overwhelming sadness would preside like a blanket of fog, where people would find it difficult to say anything and long silences would prevail, despite forced attempts to avoid them. Cancer would be spending Christmas with Caroline and her family, not him.
    ‘You shouldn’t be here. I told you I would check your cultures,’ said Mary Hollis when she saw Gavin come in to the lab.
    ‘I just had to see for myself,’ said Gavin. ‘But don’t think I’m not grateful.’
    ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘A lot better, thanks … and don’t say I don’t look it,’ Gavin warned Tom who looked as if he were about to say something.
    Tom shrugged and returned to what he was doing.
    Gavin brought out his cell cultures one at a time and examined them under the inverted microscope. Mary watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction. Tom, with his back to the others, stopped in the middle of a calculation he was scribbling and said out loud, ‘You’re not going to believe this but I’ve forgotten the molecular weight of sodium …’
    ‘Twenty-three,’ said Gavin, without taking his eyes from the ’scope.
    ‘Cheers.’
    ‘How are they looking?’ asked Mary.
    ‘Well, at least they’re not contaminated this time,’ replied Gavin. ‘On the other hand, there’s not much sign of anything happening.’
    ‘It’s only been a day, Gavin. Give them time.’
    Gavin returned the last of the culture bottles to the incubator. He had just closed the door when Peter Morton-Brown came in, full of smiles and bonhomie. ‘Hi, guys. Have you heard about my new journal club?’
    ‘Frank mentioned something about it,’ said Mary, keeping her tone neutral.
    ‘Well, what d’you think? Are you going to come along and boost the numbers?’
    ‘I suppose …’ said Mary.
    ‘Sure,’ said Tom with his usual lopsided shrug.
    Gavin had busied himself with something at his desk.
    ‘How about you, Gavin, are you going to join?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Not interested in current research progress,