Page 68 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
‘Naïve, then. I expect it’s to do with the friendly way you have with men,’ Dorothy sighed. ‘You’re always being seen with Edmund, for a start.’
‘We’re talking about our work. And I’m friendly with him because we’re friends.’
‘I’m sure that’s true, but many other people don’t think men and women can “just be friends”. And sharing a lab with James, that’s asking for trouble. All that time alone with him.’
‘Hardly my fault. No one consulted me before they put him in there.’
‘They’re saying that you and he arranged it between you.’
‘Who’s saying that? It’s nonsense. Why don’t they say these things about you, Dorothy? You’re prettier than me. Half the men are in love with you. Their eyes fix on you when you pass.’
‘Hogswill!’ Dorothy said rudely.
There was, however, more than a grain of truth in this. With her auburn hair and flawless skin, she was astonishingly attractive. Nancy had seen men stare after her, but somehow her friend always shrugged off this attention.
‘It helps that I’ve invented Norman,’ Dorothy explained with a laugh. Norman, Nancy knew, was Dorothy’s non-existent boyfriend. If any man made an advance, ‘Norman’ would be invoked as the excuse for Dorothy’s rejection. ‘Their dignity is not threatened if they think you’re another man’s possession.Listen, Nancy, I’ll do my best to counter the gossip, but perhaps you should do the same. How about a Peter who’s in the Foreign Office? Or an Italian? Silvio would sound more exotic.’
‘I couldn’t!’ Nancy said, outraged. ‘Anyway,’ she mumbled, ‘no one would believe me.’
Dorothy sighed. ‘You shouldn’t put yourself down, Nancy. You’re very attractive and dress so nicely. Lots of men fancy brunettes because they look’ – her voice turned husky and she narrowed her eyes – ‘mysterious and passionate. Like Lauren Bacall.’
‘Pish.’
Still, Nancy was flattered. That evening, she consulted the mirror. It was true that her thick dark hair was her crowning glory and her grey-blue eyes were unusual, but her pale skin tended to oiliness and she always seemed to have a spot on her chin. She never usually bothered with make-up during the day, but perhaps a touch of powder wouldn’t hurt. Anything more would undoubtedly feed the gossip.
She frowned at her reflection as she cleaned her teeth. Somehow she’d have to ride out this nonsense. The women in the supper club wouldn’t countenance it, surely? She couldn’t be certain. Dorothy had called her naïve as if she’d brought it on herself. A thought came to her and a blush of shame warmed her cheeks. It was no good feeling self-righteous when it came to James. Nothing had happened yet to vindicate the gossips, but secretly she wished it would.
The weeks passed and Nancy redoubled her attention on her work. She couldn’t do much about James, since they hadto share the lab space, but she took care only to see Edmund in a group. Doing this bothered her. It felt like giving in to allow the gossip to spoil a good friendship. Had he heard the malicious rumours, she wondered? The thought embarrassed her. Her action was no good, anyway. The mud they’d thrown had stuck. Some of the women remained cool with her, the older secretary and a couple of the technicians, even another female doctoral student, who should have known better. She’d learned a painful lesson. A reputation once lost was not easily regained.
Finally, she decided she didn’t care. She would look the gossipmongers in the eye, even if their gaze slid away. She would keep her voice steady when she asked them for information or help with equipment. And when one day Edmund stopped her in the corridor and asked if she’d like to attend a lecture with him at the Royal Society, she abandoned caution. It was about the pondlife of the New Forest, he said. With a rush of pleasure at the memory of the field trip, she said yes, she would go.
The lecture brought back the wonders of that idyllic time at the end of their first year as undergraduates at Prince’s College. The lecturer, an earnest, middle-aged professor from Bristol University, was a dragonfly enthusiast.
‘That’s the one we couldn’t catch,’ Edmund whispered as a slide of an Emperor dragonfly came onto the screen. ‘Perhaps it really is the same one!’
She giggled.
After the lecture had finished, they stayed behind for drinks and spoke to Professor McCall, who was not at allgrand or condescending, instead asking kindly after their own studies. He nodded gravely when Nancy described her work with locusts and said, ‘Important work. Very important. I know John Briggs, of course. There’s a tie-up with ICP, isn’t there? These new insecticides, I rather fear we’ll come to regret them. I’m not a lone voice in this and there have been examples of human deaths from DDT. No one has got them banned yet, though, they’re too useful. Especially in combatting malaria.’
‘They’re very effective on pests like locusts. Imagine if we could solve the problems of world hunger,’ Nancy said, feeling dismayed.
‘I very much support that aim,’ he said, ‘but I suspect that ICP’s profits are more important to them than altruism.’
‘That sounds a bit grim, though I tend to agree with you,’ Edmund put in.
‘I see the effects near our weekend cottage in Gloucestershire,’ the professor went on. ‘This DDT kills all insects, not just pests. We back on to arable fields where they spray and there were fewer bees in my garden this year and no butterflies. You’re involved in an important area of research, young lady, but keep your eyes open.’
‘Thank you, I will,’ Nancy said. Someone else was waiting to speak to the professor and it was with a sense of loss that she watched him turn away to engage with the newcomer.
Later, she and Edmund walked slowly to the tube station where they were to part. They spoke eagerly of the events of the evening, particularly Professor McCall’s generous attention.
‘If only Briggs were more like him,’ Nancy sighed. ‘I’ve still not seen him since his return from South America, you know. It’s more than seven months since a supervision. And I know he’s visited Brandingfield.’
‘It is poor,’ Edmund agreed, his brow furrowing. ‘Hillman can be elusive but he’s not that bad.’
‘I should write to the professor again,’ Nancy decided. ‘If, as Professor McCall says, my research would be so important to the likes of ICP, then surely he should want to know.’
‘Perhaps mentioning McCall’s comments would ginger him up?’ Edmund suggested, and Nancy resolved to follow his advice and write to Professor Briggs.
