Page 79 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
‘It’s too good an opportunity. Look, this call is costing me an arm and a leg. We’ll talk when I get back…’ Something inaudible, then, ‘Goodbye.’
‘James?’ But the line had gone dead. She stared at the receiver for a moment, then slowly replaced it in its cradle.
They met to celebrate on Saturday evening in an Italian restaurant off Piccadilly. ‘I start in September,’ James said after the waitress had taken their order. His eyes sparkled like his champagne, despite being red-rimmed with jetlag.
He raised his glass and she hastily did the same. ‘Congratulations again, dear,’ she said cheerfully, while not feeling she meant it. ‘It’s a brilliant achievement.’
And it was. The news had travelled like wildfire. Brandingfield was buzzing with it like a hive of Dorothy’s bees. That someone so young and newly qualified had landed such a prestigious research post was astonishing, unheard of. When Nancy had coffee with Edmund, the other men in the common room had looked curiously at her and quietened when she walked in. ‘I’m afraid they’re envious,’ Edmund murmured. ‘They put the job offer down to Briggs putting a word in. I’m sorry if that sounds mean-spirited, but that’s the way it is. We chaps are so competitive, we have to find a solution that makes us feel better about ourselves.’ She understood, thinking that it wasn’t just men who were like that.
Their minestrone arrived. Sipping it, she found it glutinous, but pretended to eat it while listening to James talk. The Americans had opened a new faculty in Boston. The labs were new, everything was new and James’ research interests exactly fitted what they needed. He’d be a member of a team under the renowned Professor Weiss. As for accommodation, he’d find digs initially, but they could look for an apartment together.
‘Together,’ she echoed dully, crumbling a piece of bread.
‘Yes, together,’ he said, his eyes fixing on hers. ‘You’ll come, won’t you? Perhaps not immediately, there’s a great deal to arrange, but we can get married whenever we like. It doesn’t have to be a big affair, neither of us is bothered by that sort of thing, are we?’
She looked hard at him, then smiled. ‘I don’t know what my parents would think about that. My mother likes things done properly.’ She knew exactly how her mother would reactto a hole-in-the-corner wedding. She’d be furious, worry that the neighbours would imagine that they’dhadto get married. She bit her lip. ‘But I don’t know yet. What would I do out there, James? We’ve talked about this before.’
‘You’d find something, of course you would.’ He frowned. ‘I’ll ask Professor Weiss, if you like.’
He did ask, but the answer wasn’t encouraging. ‘They don’t need researchers with your experience at present,’ he said, failing to meet her eye. ‘But there are some technician posts you could apply for.’
‘A technician?’ she said, her eyes blazing. ‘After all I’ve worked for?’
‘It would only be a starting point, Nancy, I’m sure.’
‘No, James. I couldn’t. I have my pride.’
‘Think about it. Please.’
Over the next few weeks, the problem lay heavily on Nancy. She went through her daily tasks as meticulously as ever – indeed work, despite its difficulties, seemed her only salvation. The thought of James going away was awful, but what could she do? She didn’t want to go to America, to leave her family behind and to face an uncertain future. She’d worked so hard to get where she was now, and if the job wasn’t perfect she’d at least have more of a chance here of a position of the status she wanted. She discussed the matter with Eleanor, Frank and Dorothy and appreciated the wisdom of their advice. America, Eleanor told her, was even more traditional in its attitude to women scientists thanEngland, and it would be tougher still to find a job of the status she deserved if she was married. ‘They’ll assume you’ll leave to have children,’ she warned.
‘I probably will,’ Nancy said, biting her lip as the thought of her poor sister flashed in her mind. ‘But not for years.’
‘Don’t leave it too late like me,’ Eleanor said lightly and Nancy’s heart went out to her.
As the weeks passed, Nancy’s relationship with James grew strained, as every discussion ended in stalemate. She knew that he was trying to wear her down and she couldn’t see how it could end well for her. Either she would cave in and prepare to go to America as his wife or she would risk losing him altogether. James didn’t seem to think that he had to make the same choice. He was taking up this job and it was her duty to go with him. It simply wasn’t fair.
Forty-Seven
Alone in the lab late one July afternoon, Nancy drew a reference book from her shelves. As she did so, a blue exercise book slipped down onto the worktop. She felt a stab of guilt as she picked it up and opened it, knowing what it contained. It was the one in which she’d noted her suspicions about the probable toxicity of Zalathion to humans.
Since her meeting with Dr Staunton, she’d obeyed his orders and put the matter to one side. Her dilemma about James’ posting to Boston had filled her mind instead.
She flicked through the pages. Staunton was likely to have been right. The insecticide had surely been thoroughly tested by others at ICP. She was far too junior to challenge any official findings. As she glanced through the lists of figures and the diagrams she’d drawn, though, she felt uneasy once more. Something James had said came into her mind, that ICP were ultimately primarily interested in profits. The idea that people’s health, their lives even, might be secondary tomaking money was anathema to her. Surely, if Zalathion was dangerous to humans, the firm’s reputation would be at stake. Wouldn’t the management be grateful if she alerted them?
Nancy sighed. Dr Staunton wouldn’t be pleased if she addressed him on the matter again. Her salary rise, it had already occurred to her, could be interpreted as buying her compliance.
A freshly dissected locust lay under the microscope. She checked a diagram in the exercise book, then adjusted the eye piece until the insect’s head came into sharp focus. The damage to its nervous system wasn’t visible, but the range of tests she’d carried out showed that it was there. She was certain. Zalathion and other organophosphate compounds inhibited the action of an important enzyme, disrupting the transmission of nerve signals. This enzyme worked in the same way in other parts of the animal kingdom, including humans.
Now she had verified this, she couldn’t just forget about it. What should she do? She’d think about it a while longer, she decided, and returned the exercise book to the shelf. A couple of days later, Dr Staunton called her into his office, but she was relieved to find out that it was nothing to do with organophosphates. He looked harassed, his scanty hair sticking out in all directions. ‘I simply wanted to let you know that your salary is definitely being increased.’ He named a sum that was almost, but not quite, commensurate with her colleague Philip Saunders. ‘This rise will take effect immediately.’ He gave no reason for the decision.
Her first reaction was relief. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Partof her wondered whether she was indeed being bought off. Staunton was looking at her curiously. ‘Is there anything the matter?’ she asked. She wondered if he had spoken to his superior.
‘No. Only I’m assuming that you are continuing to concentrate solely on the research you’re employed to do.’
‘Yes, of course I am.’ So she was right.
‘Good.’ His expression lightened.
