by Anna Ziegler
CRICK: What is it?
WATSON: The Nobel.
CRICK: What?
WATSON: The answer.
CRICK: What’s the answer?
WATSON: It’s a double helix. I saw it.
CRICK: Where?
WATSON: At King’s. And we have to build another model. Right now. We have to start right now. We’ve got it, Francis. It’s ours. They’re sitting on it and they don’t know it. It’s ours. This is how we’re gonna get to replication.
CRICK: But I don’t quite understand.
WATSON: There’s no time to understand. We just have to start.
CRICK: Well, let me at least finish this cup of tea. It’s really such a lovely cup of tea —
WATSON: Francis!
CRICK: Oh, all right.
WILKINS: But that’s not how it happened. I didn’t just give him the photograph. He asked for it.
WATSON: No. I don’t think so. You offered it up, like a leg of lamb we’d share for dinner.
WILKINS: I didn’t.
GOSLING: And that same week—
WILKINS: (Unhappily.) Don Caspar arrived.
GOSLING: Shortly after getting his doctorate, Dr. Caspar was awarded a fellowship with us at King’s. Apparently, one of the scientists here had gone to bat for him, so to speak. I can’t imagine who it was.
(The lights shift. WILKINS shepherds CASPAR into the lab.)
WILKINS: And this is Miss Franklin.
CASPAR: You’re Dr. Franklin?
ROSALIND: That’s me.
CASPAR: Well, hello.
(An awkward beat. WILKINS looks on, stunned.)
It’s funny…I imagined you differently.
ROSALIND: How did you imagine me?
CRICK: He didn’t say—he couldn’t say—that he’d imagined her dowdier. A woman whose exterior mirrored her seriousness.
CASPAR: Oh, just fairer maybe. Blonde.
ROSALIND: You thought I was blonde?
CASPAR: I don’t know. Yes.
ROSALIND: You knew I was Jewish, though?
CASPAR: Yes. So am I.
ROSALIND: That will make two of us at King’s.
CASPAR: I have left the States, haven’t I.
ROSALIND: Yes. I suppose you have…And how was your journey?
WILKINS: His journey was fine—so, shall we?
CASPAR: It was fine. A little tiring.
ROSALIND: Yes—it must have been.
(Beat.)
CASPAR: It’s strange to meet someone with whom one has—
ROSALIND: We should get to work then, shouldn’t we?
WILKINS: Yes. I think work is the reason why we’re all here, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Miss Franklin.
ROSALIND: It certainly is Dr. Wilkins.
GOSLING: Four days later Crick invited Wilkins for Sunday lunch in Cambridge. He found, when he arrived —
CRICK: I hope you don’t mind that I invited Watson too.
WILKINS: No, of course not.
CRICK: What can I get you to drink? Odile is making a roast but it won’t be ready for an hour or so.
WILKINS: Anything is fine. Whiskey?
CRICK: Whiskey it is.
(CRICK exits.)
WATSON: So how has it been lately with you-know-who?
WILKINS: Don’t ask.
WATSON: She’s working hard?
WILKINS: Same as always…
WATSON: People never change, do they.
WILKINS: No…And I wonder sometimes if perhaps I shouldn’t move—you know, to the countryside. I can’t really…That is to say, I haven’t met anyone in London. Have you met anyone out here? I mean…I suppose I mean…women? Do you meet women?
(CRICK returns with a drink.)
CRICK: One whiskey.
WATSON: I have met a few women here. Sure.
CRICK: “Met” being the operative word. They take one look at him and then…how would one describe it…I suppose then there’s a brief period of whispering after which time they end up leaving the pub because one turns out to have left her hat at home or some such nonsense. No, it’s more likely James would solve the secret of life than bed a woman.
WATSON: Now why d’you say that? It’s just none of the women here happen to appreciate my sophisticated charms.
WILKINS: Francis, do you remember Margaret Ramsay?
CRICK: You think I could forget Margaret Ramsay?
WILKINS: (To WATSON.) She was—
CRICK: One of the very few women in science at Cambridge. And he was absolutely smitten by her. And then one night they were sitting at opposite ends of his room, talking about the typical things one talked about, I suppose—and out of nowhere he tells her he’s in love with her. The poor sod doesn’t take her out, get a few drinks in her and kiss her. No he tells her he’s fallen for her and then continues to sit there, waiting for some verbal reciprocation of his love.
WATSON: And what happened?
WILKINS: After a very long silence, she stood, said goodbye and left.
CRICK: See, women expect men to fall upon them like unrestrained beasts. Despite their murmurings to the contrary, they want to feel that you can’t keep your hands off them. Maurice has never understood that.
WILKINS: I suppose what I’m wondering is…how do you and Odile…how does it work so well?
WATSON: It works because she doesn’t know that he ogles every other woman who crosses his path.
CRICK: I don’t! I mean, give me some credit. Sometimes I do much more than ogle.
WILKINS: But you love her?
WATSON: What is this? Twenty Questions?
CRICK: Of course I love her. I mean, honestly I don’t know what I’d do without her. I can’t even imagine that life. And as soon as we have the money, we’re going to have gads of children…
WATSON: (In horror.) God, how many is that?
CRICK: Well, at least one.
(He laughs but WILKINS looks away, sad.)
CRICK: (Studying WILKINS.)
What is it, Maurice? Is something wrong?
(Beat.)
WILKINS: Oh, it’s…I don’t know. It’s just that I’m starting to think there might come a point in life after which one can’t really begin again.
WATSON: That’s right. It’s called birth. After that point, what’s done is done. Which leads us nicely to a discussion of genes. So shall we discuss how the work is going?
WILKINS: (With sarcasm.) Yes, the work, the work. That is the important thing, isn’t it?
WATSON: Do tell us what our little ray of sunshine is keeping busy with these days.
CRICK: (Actually worried.) Wilkins, old boy. Are you sure you’re quite all right?
WATSON: Anything new on her docket? If you don’t mind sharing, that is.
WILKINS: I honestly couldn’t give two damns. I’m happy to tell you all I can remember.
WATSON: Well—good. Isn’t that good, Crick?
CRICK: (Reluctantly.) Yes—it’s good.
(Beat. And a decision to go along with the change of topic.)
WILKINS: So let’s see…She’s writing a paper at the minute. She might never finish it. The woman writes so slowly to begin with and lately she’s been a bit distracted. Infuriating, really.
WATSON: What’s it on then?
WILKINS: Her recent photographs, I’m sure. As you saw, they were the best yet.
WATSON: (Tossed off.) Yes. They were good. Very good.
And is she building a model?
WILKINS: Starting to entertain the idea. Which is actually something.
WATSON: Is she? I didn’t know that. Francis, did you know that?
CRICK: I didn’t know that, Jim.
WILKINS: She has so much information now she can no longer completely avoid it.
WATSON: What kind of model would she make?
WILKINS: One of B. It turns out A is no longer viable on its own. So essentially A and B have become hers. I’m not quite sure how that happened, but it happened. And yes, a model may come out of it. Some
day.
CRICK: Oh, well good.
WATSON: That’s terrific for her. (Beat.) We wish her well.
CRICK: Yes.
WILKINS: (Shocked.) You do??
WATSON: Of course.
CRICK: But how would you feel, Maurice, if…
WILKINS: What?
CRICK: I mean…what it is I mean to say is—
WATSON: He wonders if you’d be opposed to our trying. One more time. To get at the thing.
WILKINS: You want to build another model?
CRICK: Would that be all right with you?
WATSON: We wanted to ask you first. This time. Since it really is your…thing.
GOSLING: They neglected to mention that they’d already begun.
CRICK: You really should get to it yourself, old boy. You can do one too.
WATSON: It’s a super idea. You do one too.
WILKINS: I can’t do one. Not with Rosy around. It’s her territory, her materials…
CRICK: So that’s grand. You’ll do it if Rosy ever leaves.
WATSON: Yes, grand! She’s bound to go sometime, after all.
CRICK: And we’ll get started on ours, so long as you give us the go-ahead.
WILKINS: I can’t tell you what to do. I just…
WATSON: Yes?
WILKINS: I didn’t know you were interested is all. In doing it yourselves. Not again. Not after what happened last time around. I mean, weren’t you sufficiently embarrassed?
WATSON: Maurice, if I hid out after every embarrassment, I’d probably never be able to leave my room.
CRICK: And his room is an embarrassment. Utterly filthy. Why do you think he’s here all the time?
WATSON: Odile’s roasts aren’t bad.
CRICK: You take that back. They’re superb.
WATSON: Almost as tender as her thighs.
CRICK: Okay, that’s enough.
WILKINS: Look, if I’d known you were going to do another, I wouldn’t have…
CRICK: What, Maurice?
WILKINS: Said so much, I suppose. Or shown you…
GOSLING: Then things moved quickly. Quickly especially by the standards of a PhD student for whom everything moves slowly.
CASPAR: Watson and Crick got hold of the paper Rosalind had written. It was confidential.
CRICK: It wasn’t confidential. Another scientist at Cambridge gave it to us after it was circulated to a committee over which he was presiding.
WILKINS: Well it wasn’t published, that’s for sure. And it included her latest calculations, confirmation that the B-form was helical, and the diameter of that helix. Information that became critical to your work.
WATSON: I’m sure we would have gotten there sooner or later, even without it.
WILKINS: So would we have done, with the benefit of your work. You had ours but we didn’t have yours!
WATSON: There was no “we” where you were concerned. That was the problem.
GOSLING: Anyway, it doesn’t matter how they got the paper, only that they got it.
CASPAR: And that Rosalind didn’t know she should be in a hurry. Neither of us knew.
(CASPAR is leaning over a microscope and ROSALIND tries to squeeze by him.)
ROSALIND: Would you excuse me, Dr. Casp—
(She brushes against him, just a little.)
Oh I’m sorry.
CASPAR: (Straightening.) It’s fine.
ROSALIND: I was just…
CASPAR: It’s fine, Rosalind.
(Beat.)
ROSALIND: (Taking offense.) What’s happened? You got your degree and somehow I lost mine?
CASPAR: I’m sorry—Dr. Franklin…It’s just.
ROSALIND: What?
CASPAR: I like your name…Rosalind…Rosy.
ROSALIND: Why?
CASPAR: It’s warm. It makes me think about coming inside to a fire after a walk in the bitter cold.
WILKINS: (To the audience.) Only an American could come up with such a line.
ROSALIND: But I’m not warm. No one thinks I’m warm. Ask anyone—
CASPAR: Listen…
ROSALIND: Yes?
CASPAR: Would you have dinner with me?
ROSALIND: Dinner??
CASPAR: No—not like…Just dinner…Something really casual.
ROSALIND: I don’t think you understand that nothing in Britain is casual. No—everything here is filled with meaning no one will name or indulge. It’s why I much preferred Paris.
CASPAR: But I would think it must have been very hard to be in Paris.
ROSALIND: Why’s that?
CASPAR: I don’t know. After the war. It must not have been too friendly to…
ROSALIND: Oh. Yes. But…you just have to get by, don’t you? That’s all one can do. You can’t constantly be thinking about that…or I imagine it would destroy you.
CASPAR: It would. I’m certain it would.
(Beat.)
Have dinner with me.
(Beat.)
ROSALIND: I’m afraid there just isn’t time, Dr. Caspar.
CASPAR: For dinner?
ROSALIND: Right.
GOSLING: In the meantime, Watson and Crick were working at breakneck speed.
CASPAR: After looking at Rosalind’s report, they made a conclusion she had yet to draw: that DNA consisted of two chains running in opposite directions, a pair of endless spirals that work together but will never meet.
CRICK: Which is how it replicates, Watson. That’s how it works.
WATSON: Each strand is a template and in each template is another helix and on and on forever.
CRICK: Do you know what this means?
WATSON: Yes. I mean, no.
CRICK: It means large homes in the countryside without leaky radiators. It means suits tailored to fit. It means my mother will stop politely asking why I didn’t go into law, or medicine, and whether I have any regrets about the way my life has turned out…
WATSON: It means textbook publishers will call to make sure they have the correct spelling of our names.
CRICK: Yes! And you can choose any woman as your wife. And my wife will look at me differently.
WATSON: It means there will always be the means to keep doing this. Forever.
CRICK: We’re almost there, Watson. We’re so close.
GOSLING: Mid-February. Watson and Crick were all of a sudden being very friendly. They invited everyone to Cambridge—well, everyone except me—and then acted… strangely cheerful.
CRICK: Rosalind! So good to see you! Come in, come in—here, let me take your coat.
WATSON: You’re looking particularly lovely today, particularly vibrant—
ROSALIND: Hello Jim. Francis. (Beat.) Maurice.
CRICK: And you must be Dr. Caspar.
CASPAR: Please—call me Don.
ROSALIND: Now what was so important that we come all the way here?
CRICK: Just the pleasure of your company, Miss Franklin, on a lovely winter’s day. Nothing more.
WATSON: Why not wait out the winter doldrums together? By a warm fire, maybe, sipping the finest Cambridge has to offer.
ROSALIND: You’d be silly to waste a day like this indoors. And I certainly won’t, not after being cooped up on the train all morning. Will you come with me to the garden…Don?
CASPAR: Of course…Rosalind.
(WILKINS watches her take CASPAR’s arm; the two exit together.)
WILKINS: She’s different.
WATSON: Not to me. Still the same old—
CRICK: Come now. Let’s be kind.
WILKINS: I’ve always been kind to her! I’ve been nothing but kind!
(He leaves them standing there.)
CRICK: Oh.
WATSON: What was that?
CRICK: Ohhhhhhhhh.
WATSON: What??
CRICK: Don’t you see?
WATSON: See what?
CRICK: Sometimes you can be so blind, Jim.
WATSON: I can be blind? That’s a funny notion.
CRICK: He’s in love
with her.
WATSON: In love with who?
(Beat.)
No!!
CRICK: Undeniably.
WATSON: That’s quite a theory, Francis. But do you have any proof?
CRICK: That’s not the way we work, now. Is it.
(ROSALIND and CASPAR come back inside. WILKINS is watching them.)
ROSALIND: Francis—Dr. Casp—I mean, Don—just had the most fascinating idea—
WATSON: Oh yes? About what exactly? About helices, or?
ROSALIND: He was proposing that isomorphous replacement could be used with the Tobacco Mosaic Virus.
WILKINS: It’s not so novel.
CRICK: No, it’s a first class idea.
WATSON: So you’d put atoms of—
CASPAR: Lead, or maybe mercury—something heavy—
CRICK: Into the virus protein to see what the difference would be between the X-ray patterns. The X-ray with the atoms and the one without. That would determine the structure. It’s very clever.
CASPAR: Soon enough we’ll be making a model, right, Rosy?
WILKINS: She doesn’t like being called Rosy.
(An awkward pause.)
ROSALIND: (Quietly.) I don’t mind it.
WILKINS: And she doesn’t like making models!
(Awkward silence.)
WATSON: But are you thinking of making one?
(CRICK breaks in to stop WATSON from going on.)
CRICK: And how much longer will you be in London, Caspar?
CASPAR: Not very much longer, I’m afraid. This fellowship is just a couple more months.
CRICK: Shame.
CASPAR: It is.
(They all look at ROSALIND.)
ROSALIND: Yes. (Beat.) Shame.
WILKINS: (Barely concealing his true feelings.) Quite a shame. Yes.
WATSON: Wilkins, you old rogue.
WILKINS: What?
WATSON: Francis, I do believe you’re right.
WILKINS: Right about what?
CRICK: Let’s move into the sitting room, shall we? Jim, you go and help Odile bring out our new tea set and then we’ll sit and have a nice cup.
WATSON: Why should I help her? She’s your wife.
CRICK: Just go.
(Lights shift.)
CASPAR: But don’t be fooled. She was not distracted by me. Rosalind? No. She continued to work slowly and methodically, and in increasing isolation.
GOSLING: Can I get you anything? A cup of tea at least?
ROSALIND: Gosling, if I were to tell you that it seemed to me the A form of DNA is not helical, what would you say?