The Meddlers (26 page)

They sat and looked at each other solemnly for a moment, only the soft hissing of the tape recorder on the desk between them breaking the silence. And then Mike moved sharply and said, “Well, you were about to tell me of the way you were planning to handle phase two.”

“Er, yes. Yes. Well, simply, we’re going to expose him to frustration. He has reached the stage of being fully breast-fed for only three feeds a day. At midday he has ten minutes of suckling, the rest of his food being given by spoon—strained meats, fruits, and vegetables, and so on—the diet planned by one of the hospital dieticians. At one of these midday feeds he will be exposed to the sight of the breast and refused access to it for a period of time. We will measure how long he can tolerate the unfulfilled promise of food, see how long it takes him to cry. We will continue to do this at succeeding feeds until he displays aggrsssion towards his nurse, with whom he has already built a marked attachment. He’ll show this, we expect, by fighting at the breast, to start with, in much the same way as most infants do. Throwing his limbs about, crying and then biting as he feeds, once he is allowed to.”

“We’ve altered the hormone dosage to the nurse to diminish her milk production, and his breast feeds will eventually satisfy him less. This will show us to what extent he is able to channel his aggression. The question is, will he merely be aggressive and continue to be so, or will he accept the loss of a familiar satisfaction, seeking gratification from other sources? Will he take more of the offered spoon foods, and reject the breast altogether, or continue to fight for it? It is our belief that because of his high intelligence he
will rapidly come to terms with his changed situation, and instead of continuing to display his anger, will accept the alternative of spoon foods ad lib. We may well find it possible to wean him completely from the breast before he reaches the age of twelve weeks.”

“I can see why you’re a little anxious about public opinion. On the face of it, it’s rather an abrupt way to handle the child. I’ll try to avoid making it seem too clinical a method of treating him when I write it up. Unless I can make readers see the thinking behind it, it would be pointless to describe it, anyway. I wonder …”

He paused and then said carefully, “Look, I know it’s part of the deal that we talk only to you and don’t go prying behind your back at your staff. But if I could interview the nurse, it might help. If she can tell me the baby copes well with the experiences, then I have no doubt I can convince my readers all is well.”

“I doubt you’d get much out of her, frankly. She’s doing a very good job, a very good job indeed—because of her own personality faults. Well, perhaps faults is hardly the word. The point is, she’s a very simple soul. Warmly responsive to the baby, but to no one else. Not a woman who thinks very much at all. That’s why she was selected. I wanted a nurse who was at the lowest possible level of intelligence compatible with an ability to carry out instructions. As I’ve said before, intelligent thinking modifies emotional responses. This woman responds directly to the infant, as is necessary for his welfare, because she is a non-thinker. You see that? So even if you interviewed her, you’d get no opinion from her, only monosyllables.”

“Oh. A pity from my point of view, but I can see what you mean. Well, I suppose the only answer then is to report as I see. You’ll permit me to observe?”

“Not directly, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to introduce a new face at this stage of the proceedings. He’s an intelligent infant, remember, and may be distracted by too many people being present when we try the experiment. But you can certainly see the film we take rerun afterwards if you wish. Will that do?”

“Admirably. When do you propose to start?”

“Next week probably. There’s no urgency about it, and I can wait that long. And for the next few days I must devote myself to
administration.” He produced a wintry smile. “Not that I mind on this occasion. Now I have some money at my disposal, I can get some new facilities I need—some more computer availability and so on—and pay my staff properly. And I have some personal needs to deal with too. I am without a car at the moment, for example, and must waste too much time using public transport when I go from here to the universities where we use computers.”

And I’ve got to do something about Marjorie’s income too, he thought suddenly. She’s getting pressing about money, and if I’m not careful, she’ll make trouble of some sort if I don’t satisfy her. “If you call me next week, say on Monday, I’ll make a definite arrangement for you.”

Mike stood up and switched off the tape recorder. “Thank you. I’ve enough to get on with at the moment.” He paused and then said in as casual a tone as he could, “There’s just one more point. I’d like to get a background story from the … the baby’s mother. Nothing personal, I assure you, none of this emotional stuff. But I’ve got to do a piece on the ethical aspects, and it would add weight to your point of view if she comes out on the same side. Do you see?”

George frowned sharply. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I could not possibly put you in touch with her. Don’t ask me again, please. I must be adamant on that.”

Mike nodded heavily. “I expected as much. But I had to try. You see that?”

“Of course. You too have your dilemmas.”

“My turn to thank you for understanding? Well, since we seem to be in such excellent rapport, I’ll—and look, don’t let Sefton know this, because he’d do his pieces, but if you like, I’ll let you see my copy before I file it. I’ll be honest with you. I’m offering this partly to help you—knowing what will be run in the paper will forearm you—but also to protect myself. It may happen that when the subeditors get their hot little hands on my stuff, they’ll muck it about to please themselves. And, well, I wouldn’t want you to think I was at fault if something you dislike appears.”

“I appreciate that. Very much. I feel if there is one fortunate circumstance about this wretched deal your employer has made
with me it is that I am at least dealing with a scientific mind. I feel rather happier than I did.”

As he drove back to the office, Mike found himself wishing that he too could feel happier. He should, God knew. He’d got this difficult man virtually eating out of his hand, would get superb material for his pieces in the Echo that would help him redeem himself in his own eyes, restore some of his lost self-esteem. Why, then, did he feel so depressed? Wasn’t it all going for him? He’d got his job safe in his pocket because of the quality of his working relationship with this man. Why should he feel so uneasy?

Perhaps I should have settled for teaching those snotty-nosed kids after all, he thought savagely as he drove at a vicious speed through the thickening evening traffic. All these bloody ethics give me mental indigestion.

“My dear, it will do you all the good in the world,” Barbara said bracingly. “It should be a good party, and at your age you need parties. And really, you know, you should be flattered. Andrew Vernon is quite a sophisticated young man. And he’s asked you to go with him.”

And heaven help him if he lets her know I asked him to take her, she thought. But he’s an easygoing type, and he wants to keep on the right side of me. He’ll be safe enough.

“Well, if
you
think I should go,” Hilary said, pleased. She must care for me, or she wouldn’t be bothered whether I go or not.

“Of course I do! And that dress suits you. You look charming, and it would be a pity to waste the effort that went into getting ready, wouldn’t it? And anyway,” she added shrewdly, “your father would be hurt if he thought you didn’t appreciate having something new to wear. It was one of the things that’s pleased him most
about having new funds—being able to give you a few things you need.”

“Yes, of course, I know that. He’s been like Santa Claus, hasn’t he?” Hilary smiled then. “But such a careful Santa Claus! He said he was just giving me a salary in kind and to be sure and see it that way. I told him he doesn’t have to, I mean, I don’t want any salary, especially knowing funds are so tight.”

“Not as tight as they were, fortunately,” Barbara said. “So please him and go to this party, hmm? And it will be good for you, you know? All work and no play and all that.”

The door opened, and Vernon put his head around it.

“Barbara, have you seen Hilary anywhere? Oh,
there
you are! I’ve been looking for you. Your father’s working in the histology lab, and I didn’t like to bother him. Are you ready? Er, you look very nice.”

“Doesn’t she?” Barbara said heartily. “Now, have fun, hmm? Have you a key? Good. Come in quietly, now. I’m going to persuade your father to have an early night—he’s been overworking shockingly—so don’t fall over the milk when you come back in the small hours.”

They went in a small flurry, Vernon winking heavily at Barbara from behind Hilary’s back, and then she was alone in the office, sitting at her desk and staring at the neat pile of papers that remained of her day’s activities.

Would it work? Why not? He had seemed to enjoy that evening, eaten heartily, complimented her on her cooking, had seemed really relaxed. They had sat companionably listening to Hilary’s chatter, and she had been able to watch him covertly, happy to see some of the weariness fall from him. The only irritation had been Hilary’s presence, that evening.

And now Hilary had gone out, and her own efforts for the whole of the preceding week had ensured there was no backlog of work waiting to be done. It shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade him.

She stood up abruptly and moved to the small mirror over the washbasin in the corner. Her hair looked fine, even though she hadn’t had time for a visit to the hairdresser, and the dark red of
her new suit made her look—what? Attractive? She peered at herself closely. Well, she mightn’t be a beauty, but she was a damned sight younger than Marjorie, for all her elegant good looks. And she was here, not sitting in sulky loneliness in an empty house. And George showed no signs of missing her, did he? None of the appearances of a man suffering from the loss of a wife he cared about. So there’s no reason for me to feel in the wrong about making the most of my opportunities, is there? None at all. And he, he’s so … Who is there who cares about him as I do?

She grimaced at herself in the mirror and, moving with a determination she wasn’t really feeling, went out of the room and across the corridor to the histology laboratory, pushing the door open gently.

He was sitting hunched over the microscope, the light from the lamp on the bench throwing his nose and jaw into sharp profile, and she felt again the sudden surge of excitement that was becoming so achingly familiar. How could she have left him? she wondered again. How could she possibly not want to keep him, a man like this, so totally complete a man, with his fine mind and his tightly controlled body and …

He looked up and smiled fleetingly. “Oh, Barbara. Were you looking for me? I was just checking the slides on the earlier chromosome patterns. There’s no doubt we were accurate, you know, none at all.”

“Hilary asked me to say good night to you,” Barbara said. “She’s gone to that party with young Vernon, you know. She was so excited about it. I’m sure she’ll enjoy herself.”

He stretched and turned his swivel stool to face her. “Oh, good. I’m glad she has. Needs to get out a bit, poor child. It’s been a dreary business for her, I imagine, cooped up here. It was kind of Vernon to ask her. Most kind. I hadn’t thought, really, that he’d— well, you know how it is! One doesn’t notice one’s children growing up, but she isn’t really a child any more, is she?”

“Far from it,” Barbara said and moved across the room to lean against the bench beside him. “A delightful girl.”

“I’m really most grateful to you, Barbara. Most grateful. The life
she leads, well, she needs the interest of a woman, doesn’t she? I’ve not much experience of girls of her age, and I do appreciate the interest you take in her welfare. So does she. She seems most attached to you, most attached.”

“There’s no need to be grateful. Really. I’m happy to keep an eye on her, you know? I”—she swallowed—“I keep an eye on both of you.”

“Both of us?”

“Yes. You’re overworking, you know. You need to get out a little too. You never relax.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly content. Now there’s some more money, life is a lot easier. And if we hold on a little longer, surely the fuss will die down, and we’ll be able to get on with the job in peace.”

“All the same, you look tired.” Barbara looked at his face and then dropped her eyes in confusion. It wasn’t easy to keep a light tone to her voice. “Look, George, there’s no urgent work to be done, and as Hilary is out, you’ve no one to prepare a meal for you.”

“A meal? Oh, I daresay Hilary’s left something up there.”

“And when I heard Hilary was going out with young Vernon, I made up my mind you’d have an evening off too! Now you’ve sampled my cooking, you know what I can do, and I thought— Well, would you care to risk it again? I’ve a splendid steak just waiting to be grilled, and, er, a ripe Camembert …” Her voice trailed away. “And there’s a rather pleasant concert on the radio this evening. I thought perhaps—”