Page 77 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
The prospect made her prickle with alarm. ‘What would I do?’ she asked, her voice plaintive.
‘You could come, too. Though we would have to get married, of course,’ he said, smiling as he drew her to him.
‘Oh, James.’ It was the first time he’d mentioned marriage and she felt a rush of love for him. But the time wasn’t right. ‘Ido want to marry you some day.’ She kissed him to show she meant it. ‘Just not yet. You know what would happen to my work. No one would take me seriously if I were “Mrs James West”. Look at Frank and Eleanor. She wouldn’t be anywhere without Frank’s name on her work, and they treat her as his assistant in the department. No, I couldn’t put up with that.’ She gently withdrew from his embrace. ‘It’s too early to think about marriage. We’re all right as we are for the moment. Time’s on our side.’
‘For the moment, yes, Nancy,’ James said softly, looking into her eyes. ‘But I’ll be applying for positions in the summer and I don’t know where I’ll end up.’
A lump formed in her throat and she had to look away. The truth was suddenly clear. If they wanted to stay together, she would have to follow him. His career came first. It was a blow, but then she was stupid to be surprised. She’d always known he was ambitious. Her heart was full, remembering the support she’d given him. Now it came down to it, he would not support her work as a scientist if it hindered his. If he took a post abroad, she would have to go with him and hope for the best. A little job in his lab, perhaps? Or perhaps not. They were likely to be even more traditional out in the Empire than in London. She’d be expected to stay at home and have children, most likely. No, she certainly wasn’t ready for that.
Forty-Six
One sunny Friday in June, Nancy’s colleagues lingered in the pub at lunchtime and she was alone in the lab. She was carefully preparing a dead locust for an experiment. It was a delicate job that involved her finest instruments. After taking some general measurements, she connected the creature to a network of equipment that enabled her to detect the effect of an injection of Zalathion on its nervous system.
A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to her and she stilled. She left the microscope and, going over to a shelf of reference books, withdrew a heavy, well-thumbed volume. She flipped to the end, consulted the index and turned to the page she wanted. After she’d read the entry carefully, she paused to think, then pulled her notebook towards her. As she wrote, her sense of unease grew and remained with her for the rest of the day.
‘James, I need to ask your advice.’ She found him later inhis lab, fortunately alone. He was reading a letter, but when he saw her, he quickly put it aside.
‘Ask away,’ he said. His eyes were on the notebook in her hand, but his tone was guarded.
‘Is something wrong?’
He shook his head, so she forged on. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t see this earlier. I mean, I’ve been studying these wretched insects for so long. Perhaps I didn’t want to see it.’
‘To see what, Nancy?’
‘I’m not certain. I’d have to do further tests, but it seems to me that the way this organophosphate works on the locust’s nervous system is very similar to how it would work on a human’s. It’s the same part of the brain… No, I’m not explaining it properly. Look.’ She showed him her workings and the diagram she’d sketched earlier. He studied it with interest and asked her to explain it again.
‘The thing is,’ she said, rubbing her forehead as though it hurt, ‘you’d think that all this would have been checked before they started using the compound. I mean, there are basic standards and rules about safety. Surely.’
‘You would have thought so, but then we know the way the world works.’
‘Do we?’ Nancy regarded him doubtfully.
‘ICP are a commercial organization.’
‘I do know that.’
‘And we are aware of the problems with DDT. You showed me that paper Buckland gave you. Yet they go on using it because it works.’
‘But if what I’ve noticed is true and these new chemicals could harm people, surely they’re no good, either.’
There was a silence. James began to pace about the room, his hands in his pockets, his expression saturnine. She leaned against his worktop with arms folded, watching him, wondering what he really thought. ‘Do you think I ought to report it?’ she asked finally. ‘I mean, yes, of course I ought to, but I’d feel silly if I’d made a mistake.’
‘Do you think you have?’ he asked, looking hopeful.
‘I should do further tests, I suppose.’ She tucked away a stray lock of hair and frowned.
‘Yes, I would if I were you. The best idea, I think. You wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself.’ His words trailed away and his eye fell on the discarded letter. ‘There’s something I need to speak to you about,’ he said, reaching for it. ‘One of the posts I’ve applied for. Well, the professor must have put in a word for me, because they want to meet me. It means flying to Boston next week. They’ve offered to pay for my flight.’
She stared at him in dismay. ‘Boston,’ she whispered and swallowed against the lump rising in her throat. ‘You’ve applied for a job in Boston?’
‘Yes.’ He handed her the letter. ‘I’m surprised they’re interested in me, to tell you the truth, given that I’ve only just submitted my doctoral thesis, but Briggs knows the head of department there. It’s initially only for a year.’
‘I see,’ she said. She scanned the letter quickly. ‘?“And with the option for renewal”,’ she read aloud.
‘If it works out, I suppose. You could come with me to America, Nancy. If I get the job.’
‘If you get the job,’ she echoed miserably. ‘But you will, I expect. You’re good, they’d be lucky to have you.’
