Deep Water

by Christine Poulson

  “Why wouldn’t it have been right?”

  “Don’t you see the irony of it – that we love Chloe so much that we’d be prepared to destroy other potential children for her? And think about this: if we’d known we were carrying this gene before Chloe was conceived, we might have been offered embryo selection and she might never have been born.”

  “But Rachel,” Katie said, “at that stage Chloe would have been just a ball of cells.”

  “But a ball of cells with the potential to be Chloe.”

  “Surely, though,” Katie sought for the words, “if you could have made Chloe without DBA – ”

  “Then she wouldn’t have been Chloe. She is as she is. We’re all children of God.”

  Katie felt a flash of annoyance. If Rachel was going to fall back on that, if she wasn’t going to engage in rational debate, then it was pointless arguing with her. And yet, Katie couldn’t help saying, “You know, there are an awful lot of spontaneous abortions anyway. Nature is very wasteful.”

  “That’s different. But to choose to end a life – OK, a potential life – or to choose one over another… Who are we to do that?”

  “Some forms of contraception – the coil, for example, that aborts a fertilized egg – ”

  “That’s different, too.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “You’re not choosing that one will live and one will die – you’re not choosing to give life to someone not for their own sake, but because you want to use their bone marrow. You’re not – ” She broke off.

  Katie too had heard the pattering of bare feet. Chloe appeared, blinking in the light, clutching her bunny to her chest. Her face was anxious.

  “Mummy, I can’t sleep. I’m frightened. There’s a monster in the bathroom.”

  Rachel got to her feet. “OK, let’s go and see, and if there is a monster, what will Mummy do?”

  Chloe smiled. “Chase that old monster away!”

  “Come on, then.”

  Katie watched as Rachel took Chloe by the hand and led her back to her room. She saw what Rachel meant. She thought of how it had felt to have Chloe tucked into her arm. There was so much of her, the shiny hair, the unblemished skin, the dense compact heft of her. How could it be that she was at once so perfect and yet so terribly flawed? The answer was that she was just Chloe, simple as that. Rachel had said, “We’re all children of God.” Was there after all a kind of truth in that, a truth that didn’t necessarily have to do with superstition and old-man-in-the-sky thinking, a truth that even an atheist could comprehend?

  Katie’s stomach rumbled. Food was needed, and fast. She reached for the jar of rice. That could be cooking while she was frying the chicken.

  The cooking was well under way when Rachel came back.

  She said in that tone of voice that indicates a definite change of subject, “So, you’ve decided that it’s possible to steal a lab book. Now what?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Katie said. “There could be a relatively innocent explanation. What if Will lost the original? We’re not supposed to take them out of the lab, but people do and there are stories about lab books being left in trains or pubs or taxis or in briefcases that get stolen. If that happened to Will, he might not have wanted to own up. Instead he might have got hold of a blank lab book and tried to reconstruct the original.” She decided not to say anything about Honor. It seemed so unlikely that someone with so much at stake could be involved in anything so unethical.

  “How could you find that out?”

  “I think there’s a notebook somewhere, recording the same information that’s in the lab book. Will told me that he’s only recently started keeping one as a back-up, but I don’t think that’s true. I caught a glimpse of a lot of them in the drawer of the desk in his office.”

  “And you think that what’s in the notebook won’t be the same as what’s in the lab book and you’ll be able to see where he faked it?”

  Katie nodded. “That’s it.”

  “Could you get a look at those notebooks?” Rachel asked. She got cutlery out of a drawer and began to set the table. She paused in what she was doing. “Perhaps he’s got rid of it! Perhaps he’s destroyed the evidence!”

  “I don’t think so,” Katie said.

  That was one thing Katie couldn’t see him doing. She wouldn’t do it herself. It would go against her whole training and instinct as a scientist.

  “He’d need that notebook,” she explained. “He’d need to be able to go back and check the details of what he’s done. No, it’ll be somewhere where he can consult it if necessary. If I were him, I’d take it home.”

  “So what are you going to do? You can hardly go breaking and entering.”

  “I don’t know. I had supper at his flat the other day. Maybe he’ll invite me round again.” Katie eased the chicken breasts onto plates. “But for now, I’d better concentrate on my own work. I’ve got enough problems of my own. Tomorrow I’ll do the western blot again. If I don’t get a positive result, I’ll be in deep trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Daniel pushed his chair back from his desk. He was tempted to pour himself a brandy, but alcohol was always a mistake when you were potentially pulling an all-nighter. He’d better have some coffee instead.

  He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. The place had an uncared-for feel. It wasn’t exactly untidy – he was good at putting things in the dishwasher – but there were toast crumbs on the counter and a gritty trail of sugar. The dishcloth needed chucking out or washing – there was a whiff of something unpleasant. In his marriage to Jennifer, he had been the domestic one, but the roles had been reversed with Rachel. Was it something to do with having a child?

  He’d been shocked when he’d arrived home to find the note from Rachel. But he told himself now that she was only on the boat, hardly any distance away. Of course she was hurt, he understood that. She needed time to absorb the shock. She’d soon realize that if Harry turned out to be a match, they had to pursue the possibility of a cure for Chloe, and then she would be back, bringing Chloe with her.

  At the thought of Chloe, he felt a pang. This was the second night that he’d been alone in the house. How strange it was sleeping alone and waking up alone, realizing that Chloe was not there in the next room. Family life had been like a garment so familiar that he was scarcely conscious of wearing it. Now that it was gone, he felt cold, exposed, no longer at home here. There was too much empty space, too much silence. He found himself switching on the radio and leaving it on even when he’d stopped listening, just to have some noise somewhere in the house.

  That was what he did now. He switched on the TV in the sitting room. The national news was just ending and he caught the beginning of the regional news: “The police are still questioning Nicholas Blunt, who has been arrested on suspicion of failing to report an accident.”

  So they were still holding Nick. It was beginning to sound as if there might be more to it than leaving the scene of the accident. Surely he couldn’t somehow have been involved in her death? No, unthinkable. But leaving the scene – that was bad enough. How could he have left Jennifer dead or dying in a wrecked car?

  Time seemed to be doing strange things. Just for a few moments, the years of marriage to Jennifer and the even longer years of friendship with Nick – they had known each other since primary school – seemed more recent than his marriage to Rachel.

  There was an interview with Nick’s lawyer on the steps of the police station: “Mr Blunt is cooperating with the police to the fullest possible extent. He is confident – ”

  “What about the little boy?” a journalist demanded.

  “Mr Blunt’s son is at present being cared for by his family,” the solicitor answered stiffly.

  His son… Ha! Dan felt a flash of savage satisfaction at the prospect of disabusing Nick, if and when the time came. If Harry turned out to be Daniel’s, he’d like to see the look on Nick’s face when he realized tha
t he had been harbouring a cuckoo in the nest. It was as if providence in one fell swoop had intervened to punish Nick and provide a cure for Chloe. He wondered who was looking after Harry; presumably Nick’s parents, or maybe his sister.

  Daniel wasn’t sure exactly what rights he had – but he must have some if he turned out to be Harry’s genetic father. Harry would have been conceived before the divorce had come through, which would make him a legitimate child of their marriage. Daniel had been able to discover that much. But if Jennifer had been married to Nick by the time Harry was born, and Nick was named as Harry’s father on the birth certificate…

  The smell of percolating coffee reached him and he came to himself. He could do nothing until the DNA results arrived. And in the meantime, he had a deadline to meet. Tomorrow he was booked onto a night flight to the States. By then he had to have a clear idea of the case to be made for his client and the lab books had to be ready for inspection. The other side had asked to see the originals, and that was their right.

  He brought the pot of coffee back to his desk and focused on the lab book. Billions of dollars rested on who had won the race. And the work itself, a treatment for obesity – he reminded himself that it was still only in the development stage – if it really did prove to be effective and safe, millions of people would be saved from years of poor health and premature death: the statistics for Type 2 diabetes, heart disease, cancer even, would be slashed. Daniel was present at what might prove to be one of the greatest discoveries of modern science.

  Everything else slipped away, even the pain of missing Chloe and Rachel, as he worked on into the night. Finally he closed the last lab book and sat back, satisfied that everything was in order. They had a good case. But he wouldn’t tell Lyle until he’d had time to go through it again tomorrow and double-check. There was still a hell of a lot to do before he had to leave for the States, but he was too tired to do any more tonight. He shut down his computer. He could let himself have that brandy.

  Now that he was no longer focused on his work, the silence of the empty house closed in around him. If only he could look in on Chloe and watch her sleeping, before slipping into bed next to Rachel. He got up and went over to the cabinet where the glasses and the drinks were kept.

  He poured himself a small brandy – more than that and he wouldn’t sleep well. He swirled the viscous fluid in the glass, and inhaled the heady fumes. He went over to the window, pulled back the curtain and looked out. The quayside was deserted and the houses were dark. He could see the white shapes of sleeping ducks.

  Then – afterwards he wasn’t sure how – he knew he wasn’t alone in the house. A footfall, a stirring of the air? The warmth of another human being? He turned, expecting to see Rachel, his face already breaking out into a smile.

  The room was empty.

  The sense of someone’s presence had been so strong that the hairs went up on the back of his neck. He went into the sitting room to check that the front door was still locked. It was.

  He went back into his study and looked around as if after all there might be someone there. He went over to his desk, where the lab book lay open in the pool of light from his desk lamp. Had he left it like that? He must have. He stared down at it, vaguely troubled. His eyes were sore and itchy. He rubbed them and glanced at his watch. Three o’clock. No wonder he was beginning to lose it.

  He finished the brandy and went upstairs to bed.

  That night he dreamt about Jennifer. He was searching for her at a party, going through room after room. How was it that he had managed to lose her? He thought he saw her, but when he touched her shoulder and she turned, he saw a stranger’s face. Then in the way of dreams, everything changed and he found himself in the house they used to share, waiting for her to come to bed. She came in from the bathroom without turning the light on. He didn’t see her face. She was simply a beloved presence in the dark. The mattress gave as she sat down, and he turned to take her in his arms. Another moment and his lips would find hers in the darkness. He felt a surge of love and desire. But then something was happening. He was beginning to wake up. With a supreme effort he succeeded in slipping back into the darkness and this time their lips met and she clung to him, but for the briefest of moments. Something was dragging her down into the dark, and then she was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was certain to work this time, Katie told herself, as she waited in the red-tinged darkness. She’d done this dozens of times before. If it hadn’t been for the failure last time, she wouldn’t be giving it a second thought. The only thing really in doubt was whether it would be good enough for publication.

  The western blot came out of the machine and she snatched it up. She turned on the light, narrowing her eyes against the sudden glare. She stared at the western blot, not quite understanding – or not allowing herself to understand. No ladder of protein bands, no baseline bands. Just a greyish ghostly outline. Exactly like last time. It couldn’t be – it just couldn’t. She’d done everything right: new culture of E.coli, new cell-line. It had to have worked. A sudden hope sprang up – there was something wrong with the machine! – only to be dashed the next moment. She was just kidding herself. There was nothing wrong with the machine; it was her. She’d screwed up and the worst of it was, she didn’t know how. She was running out of time, she was running out of money, and worst of all, she was running out of ideas. She had reached a dead end and didn’t know what to do next. The thought of her forthcoming meeting with Paul made her want to crawl under a stone and stay there.

  She left the darkroom in a daze and, scarcely knowing what she was doing, headed for the common room, making instinctively for caffeine and sugar.

  Only two people were in there. Minnie was at the sink, filling the kettle. Will was in an armchair, reading a newspaper. He looked up. His expression was guarded, but it soon dissolved into a look of concern.

  “What’s happened?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

  Minnie looked round in alarm. “It’s not Ian, is it? He’s not –”

  Katie burst into tears. She just couldn’t help it. Her hands went up to her face. She didn’t realize that Will had come over until she felt his hands on her shoulders.

  “What is it? What is it?” he demanded.

  She just managed to get it out. “Western blot – nothing, absolutely nothing – two years’ work down the drain.”

  “Oh, what!” Will said.

  Minnie didn’t speak, but her face said everything.

  They’d comprehended the scale of the disaster immediately.

  Will pulled her into a hug and she rested her head briefly on his shoulder. Minnie came over and thrust a paper tissue into her hand.

  “Tea,” she said solemnly. “Strong tea with lots of sugar, and a biscuit. That’s what you need. The kettle’s on.”

  Will guided Katie solicitously to a chair. She sat down and dabbed at her face.

  Millie said, “Oh no, we’re out of teabags.” She hesitated. “Well, there’s this…” Her hand hovered over Ian’s tea caddy.

  “Go on,” said Will, “you might as well. He’s not going to be wanting it, is he?”

  “Will!” Minnie looked shocked.

  “Well, he’s not. Oh, I didn’t mean that he isn’t going to recover. But he won’t be coming back here, will he, whatever happens?”

  It was all over the lab now that Ian was responsible for the explosion, and Katie saw that Will was coming to terms with it.

  “True,” Minnie agreed. She brightened up. “And while we’re at it, there’s these custard creams.”

  She bustled about, and when they were settled with their tea, she said, “Come on, Katie, let’s hear all about it.”

  Katie went through it stage by stage. Minnie and Will listened intently. When she’d finished, they didn’t rush in with their comments, but took time to think it over. Watching their faces as they pondered, Katie thought, This is what I like about my fellow scientists: their quiet confidence t
hat where there is a problem, there will also be a solution. This kinship and camaraderie was part of what made the job worthwhile.

  Will was the first to speak. “Just when did your work start to hit the skids? Was it before or after you got here?”

  “It was when the E.coli culture failed – and that was on my first day in the lab.” Hard to believe that it was less than a fortnight ago. “I can’t believe I could be so careless,” she added.

  “Perhaps you weren’t,” Will said. “Tell me, was Ian full of sympathy; did he wade in and sort it all out for you?”

  “Well, yes, but… you don’t think…”

  “It’d fit a pattern. If Ian was needy, desperate for attention – Honor and I have been talking it over.”

  Katie said slowly, “She said something similar to me. It’s easy enough to kill E.coli.”

  “Piece of cake. You’d just tip in some antibiotic,” Minnie said, dunking her biscuit in her tea. Struck by a sudden thought, she sat up straight. “What about the isotope – ”

  Katie remembered how impressed she’d been by the way Ian had taken control and cleared the lab. And yes, he had been the one to discover it, as if by chance. “You mean – he tracked it over the lab himself – ”

  “Well, yeah, maybe, but actually I meant my radio-labelled methionine,” Minnie said. “Remember when it went missing and Ian found it for me? I know I didn’t put it in that other fridge. I bet it was him. And he could have infected your cell-line.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Minnie,” Katie shook her head. “That could happen to anyone. We can’t pin everything on Ian. That’s just paranoia.”

  “That’s the trouble,” Will said sombrely. “When something like this happens, it throws everything into doubt. But don’t forget this is a guy who blew up our lab. I’d say a bit of paranoia is justified. Let’s go with the idea that your western blot was deliberately sabotaged and see where it takes us.”