Hypocrite's Isle by Ken McClure Read Free Book Online

Gavin. ‘What did you fuckin’ call me?’
    Gavin tried to focus on the hate-filled face but could make out little more than acne and gritted teeth. ‘Oh, fuck off …’
    Kick after kick rained in on Gavin, until a bad day ended in a pool of his own vomit and merciful unconsciousness. He awoke at three in the morning in A&E.
    ‘Welcome back,’ said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
    ‘I know you …’
    ‘Simon Young, Mary’s boyfriend,’ said the voice. ‘You’re in hospital.’
    Gavin blinked against the light with his right eye. He couldn’t open his left. He eventually recognised the tall, fair-haired man he had met in the postgrad union. ‘How are you doing?’
    Young smiled at the enquiry. ‘I’m fine. I won’t ask how you ’re doing: I know. I’ve just spent the last half hour examining you. I’m glad I didn’t offend the guy who did this to you. You obviously upset him big time …’
    ‘There were three of them. I got pissed; I got mugged,’ mumbled Gavin. ‘Shit happens. What’s the damage?’
    ‘Three broken ribs and a face your girlfriend might struggle to recognise for a few days.’
    ‘Don’t have a girlfriend any more …’
    ‘This wasn’t over a girl, was it?’
    ‘No, some locals decided to express their doubts about the value of higher education.’
    ‘Student bashing? Happens a lot.’
    ‘Good to know …’
    ‘Your being pissed didn’t help …’
    ‘We’ll have to disagree about that,’ said Gavin, attempting to sit up. ‘Where are my clothes?’
    ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere.’
    Gavin let out an involuntary gasp. ‘You may be right …’ he agreed, putting his hands to his head as pain seemed to hit him from all directions.
    ‘Just lie back down, get some sleep, old son,’ soothed Young. ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
     
    Gavin appeared in the lab at three the following afternoon. To a large extent, what had happened had wiped out the fact that he had gone off in a huff after discovering that his cell cultures were contaminated. All people wanted to talk about were his injuries and what had happened.
    ‘Ye gods,’ murmured Mary when she saw him. ‘Simon said you’d taken a bit of a beating …’
    Gavin found it hard to adopt any facial expression at all, the left side of his face had swollen so much. It also kept his left eye closed.
    ‘You should be home in bed.’
    ‘I have to talk to the girls in the cell culture suite. Humble pie, remember? My favourite, yum yum.’
    ‘I’d put a paper bag over my head first,’ said Tom. ‘You might scare them.’
    ‘Fine … if you’ll put a plastic one over yours.’
    ‘Boys, boys,’ soothed Mary, walking over to the incubator and bringing out three cell culture bottles. ‘Actually, I asked around yesterday and the Macmillan group had some going spare. They say you can use these if you like.’
    Gavin seemed speechless for a moment, then he said, ‘That’s great. I don’t know what to say …’
    ‘I think I’d go with “thank you very much” if I were you,’ said Tom.
    ‘Yeah … yeah … thanks a million, Mary. That was really kind.’
    ‘No, Gavin,’ said Mary, handing over the bottles. ‘It was really normal behaviour round here. Try to get your head round that. Incidentally, I put your Valdevan solution in the fridge. You left it lying out on the bench.’
    Gavin accepted the rebuke with a grimace and gave a nod of thanks. ‘Thanks again … I guess this means I can set up the experiment right now.’
    ‘I guess it does,’ said Mary. ‘If you think your aseptic technique is good enough, that is …’
    ‘You don’t think it is?’
    ‘If you’re depending on what you learned in undergraduate classes and from what you’ve read in books, probably not.’
    Gavin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Would you consider showing me?’
    ‘Get your stuff together.’
    They moved over to the corner of the lab where a bench was kept for ‘clean manipulation’.