Free Hypocrite's Isle by Ken McClure Page B

ambience had become much more relaxed. ‘Going home for Christmas?’ asked Trish as she put the cap on the final culture of the twelve she had set up, with Gavin having done the penultimate four under her supervision.
    ‘Still not decided,’ confessed Gavin. ‘You?’
    ‘You bet. Two weeks of my mum’s cooking and seeing all my old mates. Hold me back!’
    ‘Sounds okay,’ agreed Gavin. ‘Where do you come from?’
    ‘Inverness. You?’
    ‘Liverpool.’
    ‘So what’s stopping you?’
    ‘I think I might work … well, at least some of the time.’
    ‘At Christmas?’
    ‘Well, maybe not Christmas Day, but I’d like to keep things moving along – another good reason for learning to do this. I really appreciate it.’
    ‘No problem, but you’d better look out some warm clothing. They turn the heating off in the university over the Christmas break.’
    ‘Thanks for the warning.’
    ‘Is there anything else you need to know?’
    ‘Cell culture fluid. Am I right in thinking you always use the same one?’
    ‘There are a number of recipes, but generally we use the richest one possible. It makes the cells grow faster, and people are always in a hurry to get results from their experiments. The others tend not to be so rich, but I can certainly leave some alternative recipes for you, if you think you might need to use another one for any reason.’
    ‘That might be handy – just in case I run out.’
    ‘Actually, that’s a good point. It’s usually impossible to get supplies of fresh serum over the break so you may have to improvise – maybe use an amino acids solution.’
     
    When Gavin got back to the lab, Mary told him that Caroline had phoned and asked that he phone her back on her mobile, but not until after her afternoon lecture finished at four. He called at ten past. It sounded as if she was in a crowded corridor and having difficulty hearing him. Reducing the conversation to the bare minimum , they agreed to meet in the student union at five.
    It was raining heavily when Gavin left the building and ran round to the union, pausing just inside the door to shake the water from his hair before he noticed Caroline arrive just behind him. She turned to collapse her umbrella and shake it out on the steps. He gave her a one-armed hug.
    ‘Well, the swelling’s gone down a lot,’ said Caroline, examining Gavin’s face as he drew away. ‘You look almost normal. How are the ribs?’
    ‘Knitting together as we speak.’ Gavin steered her through to the bar where they ordered coffee and found a table.
    ‘How was it?’ asked Gavin as he took off his denim jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.
    ‘Much as you’d expect – pretty awful. My mother has changed almost beyond recognition.’
    Gavin raised his eyes.
    ‘I don’t mean physically; it’s more a personality thing. She’s become so bitter. She thought that she’d taken on cancer last time and won. She says she only agreed to the removal of her breast because the doctors convinced her it would stop the chances of the cancer coming back, so now that it has …’
    ‘She feels cheated.’
    Caroline nodded. ‘It’s as if an invisible barrier has come down between us and it’s not possible to get through to her, however much I try. She’s there but she’s not there if you know what I mean. Mum and I have always been close, but now when I talk to her it feels like I’m speaking to a stranger. There’s something missing … the bonds between us have gone … she’s drifting away …’
    Gavin nodded and put his hand on Caroline’s, but she didn’t respond. She seemed far away.
    ‘And your dad?’
    ‘Oh, he’s coming to terms with it. He realises that he’ll have to be strong for her again and it’s going to be a lot more difficult this time, particularly as she no longer has such blind faith in the medical profession.’
    ‘Not that that would help much in this case,’ said Gavin. ‘Liver cancer …’
    ‘Thank you …