“What’s going on with the machine?”
“What do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Your plan, dummy. To mend it.”
“Well, I took a sample of the gas and sent it off to that lab I told you about. It went in the morning post.”
“You’ve sent it off?” Surprised, I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. That was dedication, even for Jimmy.
He nodded. “I found a research lab where this Dr. Handler is experimenting with nanotechnology. We’ve been chatting via email, and he agreed to test the gas.”
“How much did you tell him?” Visions of a gang of white-coated scientists breaking into the church and stealing the pod made me tense up.
Jimmy must have noticed and said, “Don’t worry, he only has a few details. He certainly doesn’t know about the pod, and he doesn’t know about the church.”
“Then how did you explain the gas?”
“Ah-ha!” Jimmy beamed a wide smile at me. “I told him I was doing my own experimentation and needed a better lab to test what I’d managed to produce. He was so curious about what a ‘civilian’ might be able to come up with that I didn’t even have to ask. Dr. Handler told me to courier over the sample. So I did.”
He gave me a Cheshire Cat grin. He did realize that if it wasn’t for him he wouldn’t have any need to be pulling the wool over that poor scientist’s eyes? I’d be fixed and ready to live to an old age.
“Well, I’ve got my own research to do.” I said. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to get some information to help you.”
Jimmy cocked his head. “What are you up to?”
“Let me do my research and I’ll let you know.” I rolled out of bed. “Now, back to your study. Some of us have work to do, you know.”
Was this forgiveness? Jimmy certainly took it that way, giving my backside a gentle slap as he left the room. Did I think it was forgiveness? No, not really. More like forced acceptance. All the anger in the world wasn’t going to fix that pod.
I shrugged on my dressing gown and made my way downstairs. First things first, I filled the kettle and set it to boil. Then I got my laptop out and opened it up. On the Google page I typed in: find out who owns a house. The results came up. Of course, Land Registry. I clicked the link and read the page. £3 to find out who owned a property. I opened up a new page and pulled up a map of Birkenhead. I found the road the church was on and then Googled that for more information. I was rewarded with the street number and a post code. Back on the Land Registry site, I plugged in the info, paid my £3 and waited for the email with the information.
Amazing, just a minute later and I had it. My heart beat surprisingly quickly as I clicked the link and opened a webpage. A basic white form told me the on the third line that the owner was Richard Neil Newland and listed his address.
This was too easy, I thought as I jotted the information down on a piece of paper. Richard Newland lived in Calday, according to this, but the purchase had been made in 2002. Would he still be there eleven years later? I got out the phone book but couldn’t find a listing. That didn’t mean anything. It might simply mean he was ex-directory. Calday was just a few villages away from where I lived, no reason why I couldn’t go to his house. But what if he turned me away or got me arrested? Worse, what if he demanded I hand the key back? Hardly anyone knew about the pod; what if he might think I was some sort of secret agent trying to steal the device?
Now I was I was getting paranoid. I managed to laugh at myself, but I knew I had to be cautious. Sending a letter might take a week to get an answer, but if I could make contact in the right way, it would be worth the wait.
Feeling rather like a stalker, I composed a letter to Mr. Newland. I crumpled it up and wrote another. That one ended up in the bin as well. What could I say that didn’t make me sound odd? Odd would not get me an audience with him. Needing some time to think, I had a long shower and got dressed leisurely, mulling over words and phrases. I settled for this:
Dear Mr. Newland,
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you. I am very lucky to have possession of the key to your church. I am so grateful of your generous gift of the machine, and hope to be cancer-free in the near future.
My curiosity about the machine is tremendous, and I was wondering if you would be willing to tell me the history of how you came across it? All information will of course be treated as confidential.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Warm regards,
Kath Wyatt
With my contact details listed, giving him a choice of email, text, phone or letter, I figured I might have a shot of a reply. I sealed up my letter, stuck on a stamp and before I lost my nerve walked it down to the post box.
Now to deal with Mum. I checked my watch, Dad would have left for the boat club by now. I had about two hours to have my chat. Finding the address for Mr. Newland had buoyed me. I felt lucky, like I should be buying lottery tickets kind of lucky. Mum was going to be a doddle. All I had to do was explain about Margret, give Mum a cuddle as she cried with relief, then leave as Dad got home so they could have an evening of making up. Easy-peasy.
I walked home from the post box whistling, the sun on my face, a warm breeze blowing through my hair. There was an anniversary to plan, a mother to reassure, a baby to look forward to, and a scan to amaze the doctors with. I might not be cured yet, but life was good.
18
Mum is Leaving
“Mum, it’s me!” I called out as I closed her front door behind me. A noise came from upstairs. I slipped off my shoes and went upstairs to join her.
“What are you doing here?” Mum said. She was in her bedroom, her clothes spread out all over the bed and two suitcases open on the floor. “You should leave.”
“Mum, what the hell is going on?” I didn’t have to ask, it was blindingly obvious.
“I’ll not stand for him having some floozy. I’m leaving.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger.
I surveyed the mess. “Where are you going to go?”
Mum threw a handful of underwear in one of the suitcases. “It’s already sorted. I’m going to your Auntie Pauline’s.”
“Stop, please.” I grabbed her arm and forced her to sit on the bed.
She pushed the shirts out of the way and gave me a sour look.
“Mum, Margret isn’t after Dad. Nothing’s going on.”
For a moment I thought she was going to slap me. Then in a very low voice she said, “You’ve met this woman? Behind my back?” Mum choked back a sob. “How dare you.”
I felt like a traitor. “Honestly Mum, it’s not what you think. She’s with Dave,” I said and readied myself to tell the story the four of us had concocted at the lake.
“Salty Dave?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. No one would want to be with that smelly old man. I should have known you’d take your father’s side.” She got up and started to pile trousers on top of the underwear.
“Mum, you’ve got to stop.” I grabbed at her again, but she slipped from my grasp and swung. She’d grabbed a hairbrush and before I could see what was coming at me, clocked me on the chin. “Jesus, Mum. What the hell?”
“Get out of my house.” She pointed at the door, her lips pursed into a thin line.
“Look, you’re right. I wasn’t telling you the truth.”
Mum’s hand dropped a bit, but her expression darkened. “What a surprise. Tell me then. Admit it. He’s been cheating.”
How had Dad not noticed things had got so bad?
“Mum, he’s planning a surprise party for your 50th wedding anniversary.”
For a moment, she seemed frozen to the spot, the color draining from her face. “Whaaa,” she managed to say, then collapsed onto the edge of the bed.
“You know Dad, he’s about as useful as a wet rag planning these things, so when Margret joined the Old Codger’s Club he asked her to help.”
“I – I – I found texts on his phone. For meet-ups.�
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“Yes,” I said and took her hands.
“And they kept mentioning the date of our anniversary. I thought he’d forgotten the date and how ironic it was that he planned to leave me on that day.”
I shook my head and passed her a tissue as the tears began to fall.
“I wasn’t going to let him think he was getting one over me. That’s why I decided to leave.” She was really crying now. “But the texts I found, they make sense now.”
“Oh Mum.” I sat next to her and we cuddled, her shaking with sobs and me not much better.
Suddenly, Mum pulled back. “Your father can’t know.” She glanced about the room. “And you can’t tell him I know about the party.”
“I’ll help you put the clothes back.”
She touched my chin gently, tears welling up in her eyes as I winced. “I’m so sorry about hitting you. I don’t know what came over me.” Mum shook her head.
“I understand, Mum. At least I know you still love Dad,” I said, smiling.
“You are telling the truth? He’s not cheating, he’s planning a party?”
“Yes Mum. I wouldn’t cover up something like that. Ever.”
Mum nodded, and we hugged briefly. I stepped back and surveyed the room. In her haste, Mum had pulled shirts from their hangers and tossed them onto the floor, jackets and jumpers half-hung off the bed in messy piles. Looked like she’d not started on the shoes yet. According to my watch, Dad would be at the boat yard for at least another hour. We had plenty of time to sort out the mess and for me to get Mum downstairs and feed her sweet tea to calm her down before he got back. Mascara trails ran down her cheeks, she’d have to give her face a wash as well.
My phone beeped and for a second I ignored it. There’s something about phones and their insistent sounds. I just can’t resist. Hoping it wouldn’t be Janie asking about me being cured I glanced at the screen to see Jimmy’s name.
“What’s he want?” I said more to myself than Mum and clicked on the message.
He’s coming. Only two words, but they gave me an unpleasant shiver.
Who’s coming? I replied and went back to helping Mum.
The reply came almost instantly. The scientist. He’s showing up at ours in an hour.
“Shit, that idiot.” I slammed the phone down on the bed. There must have been something fantastic in the sample. Some new thing the scientist had never seen. Now he knew our home address. How long before Jimmy was seduced into showing him the church?
“What’s wrong?”
Mum’s short hair was uncharacteristically ruffled. I stared, noticing how the white overwhelmed her once blonde coloring. A few weeks ago I might have had a surge of jealousy, getting old seemed such an impossible dream. Now… well, I had a chance. Old age was within my grasp so long as my bumbling other half didn’t allow the machine to get spirited away from us. She noticed my staring and smoothed her hair.
“It’s Jimmy. He’s up to stupid stuff again.”
Mum hung up a shirt. “What’s he up to this time?”
I tried to think of something, some story that she would believe, but I couldn’t lie very well to my mother. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “It’s a long story.” I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got just over half an hour before I’ve got to be home. Jimmy’s about to mess it all up and I’ve got to stop him.”
Mum raised her wrinkled forehead in curiosity and eyed the last items scattered around the room. “Mess what up?”
“A cure.”
Mum boggled at me. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, rubbing the material of a silk scarf between my fingers and avoiding eye contact.
“A real cure?” She took a step towards me.
“To be honest we don’t know for sure yet. My scan is tomorrow.”
“So this is something the doctors did? A new treatment?” She’d abandoned the last of the clothes.
“No…” How could I explain? As all good stories had to be told, I decided, at the beginning. “It’s complicated.”
Mum picked up a few pairs of trousers. “Are you going to tell me about it?”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “It all started a few weeks ago when I met this woman named Janie up at Clatterbridge.”
19
Meeting the Scientist
I raced home, wondering if I’d beat this scientist of Jimmy’s to the house. Too much was going on all at once, and my head felt like it was filled with static.
Mum had been dumfounded by the story I told her. I left her sitting on the edge of her bed, the last of the clothes put away, but she had this look of disbelief that made me think she didn’t trust what I was saying at first. Then she’d reached out to hold my hand, wrapping her fingers tight around mine and I realized what I was seeing wasn’t disbelief, but guarded hope. Guess I recognized that feeling in myself.
I got onto the motorway and put my foot down. Who knows what Jimmy would tell this man, this stranger? I had to get there and direct the conversation, protect the secrets of the machine. Ten minutes later and I pulled up to my house. A beat up old Fiesta was parked half on the pavement. I came to a stop on the driveway and took a second look at the rust-spotted red car. This was not the type of car I expected to see a scientist driving.
“Jimmy?” I said as I walked in the door, and went straight into the living room.
A skinny young man dressed in an old concert t-shirt and faded jeans sat opposite Jimmy. He stood as soon as he saw me and extended a hand. “Dr. Handler.” He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as if he was nervous. “Bob, my name’s Bob.”
I took his hand and shook. His palm was damp, his hand bony. “I’m Kath.”
I sat down in my chair, glancing at Jimmy as I did so. He smiled, looking far too relaxed for my liking. Over-confident. That always meant trouble with Jimmy.
“So, what has Jimmy told you?”
“Oh, not much. I only just got here.” Bob was talking to my shoulder. I decided maybe he had Asperger’s.
I dipped my head to catch his eye. “You looked at the contents of the vial?”
Jimmy threw me a glare. Perhaps he thought I was stealing his thunder, but did he really think I was going to allow him free-rein with this conversation?
“Oh yes.” Bob gave me a brief smile then glanced at Jimmy before staring at the wall. “I had to come and see you. I’ve been working on nanotechnology for the last ten years, and the sample you sent was years ahead of anything I’ve discovered. Where did you get the sample from?”
I tried to speak, but Jimmy got there first. “That’s confidential.” Jimmy stretched back on the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head. “I have this client. I’m bound by confidentiality. You know.”
What a load of poppycock. No way this kid scientist would fall for that. But I watched as Bob nodded vigorously.
“Of course. Confidential.” He wrung his hands. “Why did you send me the sample then?”
Jimmy sat forward. “I need to know if you can make more.”
For a few seconds, Bob didn’t say anything. He glanced at me, then at Jimmy. “This is way beyond anything I have created.”
My heart sank. The pod must have come from the future. Maybe the technology to replicate the little nano bits simply didn’t exist yet. Tears sprang from nowhere. That was it, dream over. Jimmy sank into the sofa, the cocky smile vanishing.
“But that’s not to say I can’t.” Bob took a notebook out of his back pocket. “I’ve made some quick calculations. I think with time I could replicate the particle. The main problem is…” he licked a finger and flipped through the pages, “there’s this element of the particle that I need to figure out, it’s completely new to me. The biometrics are all wrong, and there seems to be an intelligence in the individual particles with a nanoelectronic biosensor I’ve not come across. I’ve been using liposomes as a transport mechanism, but in the sample they seem to work differently. Even if I can’t replicate them, these seem advanced enough t
hat if I introduce the right medium, I might be able to get them to self-replicate. I just need to beware the grey goo.”
He chuckled at this last statement, like I should understand what was clearly an inside ‘scientist’ joke. I stared at him, not having understood much of anything he said, but impressed that Bob really did seem to have a clue.
“Do you have a timescale?” Jimmy asked. He looked as perplexed as I felt.
Bob flipped through a couple more pages, scanning the notes there. “One year. Maybe two… probably two.”
Two years? Could I last that long? Jesus to be so close to being fixed and then have Jimmy break my only hope. I narrowed my eyes and waited until Jimmy glanced my way so I could make my disappointment known.
“I’ll have to pull late shifts, I can’t be seen working on this. Can’t let Phil see this.” Bob was mumbling, not really speaking to us. Then louder he said, “Do you know what this means?”
I shook my head as Bob made eye contact for a second.
“This is Nobel Prize winning stuff. This could change the world.” Bob was back leafing through his notebook. “What’s it do?”
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“The particle? What is its purpose?”
“You need to know that?”
Bob nodded. “It’ll be hard to make more and know they’re working if I’m not sure what they are supposed to do. From my brief time with it under the microscope today I know it’s for medical purposes, but for what?” He paused for a second and said flippantly, “Is someone trying to cure cancer?”
Jimmy and I exchanged glances. How much should we tell him? That it cured people? Just how much we didn’t even know ourselves. Jimmy turned my way, leaving it up to me to say what I wanted.
“I – I – uh…” I stumbled over words. “Look, it’s a top secret thing. It fixes people.”
Jimmy gave me a pained look, he obviously thought I’d told too much. But how was Bob supposed to make more if he didn’t know what it did?
That Elusive Cure Page 9