Chapter 11

Besides Eamonn Hughes, Rosie knew of only two other ‘familyfriends’
from her mother’s medical graduation class. It struck me asunlikely that someone who had illicit sex with her motherwould remain in contact, given the presence of Phil. But therewas an evolutionary argument that he would wish to ensurethat the carrier of his genes was receiving proper care.
Essentially this was Rosie’s argument also.
The first candidate was Dr Peter Enticott, who lived locally. Theother, Alan McPhee, had died from prostate cancer, which wasgood news for Rosie, as, lacking a prostate gland, she couldnot inherit it. Apparently he had been an oncologist, but hadnot detected the cancer in himself, a not-uncommon scenario.
Humans often fail to see what is close to them and obvious toothers.
Fortunately, he had a daughter, with whom Rosie had socialisedwhen she was younger. Rosie arranged a meeting with Nataliein three days’ time, ostensibly to view Natalie’s newborn baby.
I reverted to the normal schedule, but the Father Project keptintruding into my thoughts. I prepared for the DNA collection– I did88/290not want a repeat of the broken cup problem. I also hadanother alter-cation with the Dean, as a result of the FlounderIncident.
One of my tasks is to teach genetics to medical students. Inthe first class of the previous semester, a student, who did notidentify himself, had raised his hand shortly after I showed myfirst slide. The slide is a brilliant and beautiful diagrammaticsummary of evolution from single-cell organisms to today’sincredible variety of life. Only my colleagues in the PhysicsDepartment can match the extraordinary story that it tells. Icannot comprehend why some people are more interested inthe outcome of a football match or the weight of an actress.
This student belonged to another category.
‘Professor Tillman, you used the word “evolved”.’
‘Correct.’
‘I think you should point out that evolution is just a theory.’
This was not the first time I had received a question – orstatement– of this kind. I knew from experience that I would not swaythe student’s views, which would inevitably be based onreligious dogma. I could only ensure that the student was nottaken seriously by other trainee doctors.
‘Correct,’ I replied, ‘but your use of the word “just” ismisleading.
Evolution is a theory supported by overwhelming evidence. Likethe germ theory of disease, for example. As a doctor, you willbe expected to rely on science. Unless you want to be a faithhealer. In which case you are in the wrong course.’
There was some laughter. Faith Healer objected.
‘I’m not talking about faith. I’m talking about creation science.’
There were only a few moans from the class. No doubt manyof the students were from cultures where criticism of religion isnot well tolerated. Such as ours. I had been forbidden tocomment on religion after an earlier incident. But we werediscussing science. I could have89/290continued the argument, but I knew better than to besidetracked by a student. My lectures are precisely timed to fitwithin fifty minutes.
‘Evolution is a theory,’ I said. ‘There is no other theory of theorigins of life with wide acceptance by scientists, or of anyutility to medicine.
Hence we will assume it in this class.’ I believed I had handledthe situation well, but I was annoyed that time had beeninsufficient to argue the case against the pseudo-science ofcreationism.
Some weeks later, eating in the University Club, I found ameans of making the point succinctly. As I walked to the bar, Inoticed one of the members eating a flounder, with its headstill in place. After a slightly awkward conversation, I obtainedthe head and skeleton, which I wrapped and stored in mybackpack.
Four days later, I had the class. I located Faith Healer, andasked him a preliminary question. ‘Do you believe that fishwere created in their current forms by an intelligent designer?’
He seemed surprised at the question, perhaps because it hadbeen seven weeks since we had suspended the discussion. Buthe nodded in agreement.
I unwrapped the flounder. It had acquired a strong smell, butmedical students should be prepared to deal with unpleasantorganic objects in the interests of learning. I indicated the head:
‘Observe that the eyes are not symmetrical.’ In fact the eyeshad decomposed, but the location of the eye sockets was quiteclear. ‘This is because the flounder evolved from a conventionalfish with eyes on opposite sides of the head. One eye slowlymigrated around, but just far enough to function effectively.
Evolution did not bother to tidy up. But surely an intelligentdesigner would not have created a fish with this imperfec-tion.’
I gave Faith Healer the fish to enable him to examine it andcontinued the lecture.
He waited until the beginning of the new teaching year tolodge his complaint.
90/290In my discussion with the Dean, she implied that I had tried tohu-miliate Faith Healer, whereas my intent had been toadvance an argument. Since he had used the term ‘creationscience’, with no mention of religion, I made the case that Iwas not guilty of denigrating religion. I was merely contrastingone theory with another. He was welcome to bringcounter-examples to class.
‘Don,’ she said, ‘as usual you haven’t technically broken anyrules.
But – how can I put it? – if someone told me that a lecturerhad brought a dead fish to class and given it to a studentwho had made a statement of religious faith, I would guessthat the lecturer was you.
Do you understand where I’m coming from?’
‘You’re saying that I am the person in the faculty most likelyto act unconventionally. And you want me to act moreconventionally. That seems an unreasonable request to make ofa scientist.’
‘I just don’t want you to upset people.’
‘Being upset and complaining because your theory is disprovenis unscientific.’
The argument ended, once again, with the Dean being unhappywith me, though I had not broken any rules, and me beingreminded that I needed to try harder to ‘fit in’. As I left heroffice, her personal assistant, Regina, stopped me.
‘I don’t think I have you down for the faculty ball yet,Professor Tillman. I think you’re the only professor who hasn’tbought tickets.’
Riding home, I was aware of a tightness in my chest andrealised it was a physical response to the Dean’s advice. Iknew that, if I could not‘fit in’ in a science department of a university, I could not fit inanywhere.
Natalie McPhee, daughter of the late Dr Alan McPhee, potentialbiological father of Rosie, lived eighteen kilometres from the city,within91/290riding distance, but Rosie decided we should travel by car. Iwas amazed to find that she drove a red Porsche convertible.
‘It’s Phil’s.’
‘Your “father’s”?’ I did the air quotes.
‘Yeah, he’s in Thailand.’
‘I thought he didn’t like you. But he lent you his car?’
‘That’s the sort of thing he does. No love, just stuff.’
The Porsche would be the perfect vehicle to lend to someoneyou did not like. It was seventeen years old (thus using oldemissions technology), had appalling fuel economy, little legroom, high wind noise and a non-functioning air-conditioningsystem. Rosie confirmed my guess that it was unreliable andexpensive to maintain.
As we arrived at Natalie’s, I realised I had spent the entirejourney listing and elaborating on the deficiencies of the vehicle.
I had avoided small talk, but had not briefed Rosie on theDNA collection method.
‘Your task is to occupy her in conversation while I collectDNA.’ This would make best use of our respective skills.
It soon became clear that my back-up plan would benecessary.
Natalie did not want to drink: she was abstaining from alcoholwhile breastfeeding her baby, and it was too late for coffee.
These were responsible choices, but we would not be able toswab a cup or glass.
I deployed Plan B.
‘Can I see the baby?’
‘He’s asleep,’ she said, ‘so you’ll have to be quiet.’
I stood up and so did she.
‘Just tell me where to go,’ I said.
‘I’ll come with you.’
The more I insisted that I wanted to see the baby alone, themore she objected. We went to its room and, as she hadpredicted, it was sleeping. This was very annoying, as I had anumber of plans that involved collecting DNA in a totallynon-invasive way from the baby,92/290who was, of course, also related to Alan McPhee. UnfortunatelyI had not factored in the mother’s protective instinct. Everytime I found a reason to leave the room, Natalie followed me.
It was very awkward.
Finally, Rosie excused herself to go to the bathroom. Even ifshe had known what to do, she could not have visited thebaby, as Natalie had positioned herself so that she could seethe bedroom door and was checking frequently.
‘Have you heard about the Genographic Project?’ I asked.
She hadn’t and was not interested. She changed the topic.
‘You seem very interested in babies.’
There was surely an opportunity here if I could find a way toexploit it. ‘I’m interested in their behaviour. Without thecorrupting influence of a parent present.’
She looked at me strangely. ‘Do you do any stuff with kids? Imean Scouts, church groups …’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s unlikely that I’d be suitable.’
Rosie returned and the baby started crying.
‘Feeding time,’ said Natalie.
‘We should be going,’ said Rosie.
Failure! Social skills had been the problem. With good socialskills I could surely have got to the baby.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as we walked to Phil’s ridiculous vehicle.
‘Don’t be.’ Rosie reached into her handbag and pulled out awad of hair. ‘I cleaned her hairbrush for her.’
‘We need roots,’ I said. But there was a lot of hair, so it waslikely we would find a strand with its root attached.
She reached into her bag again and retrieved a toothbrush. Ittook me a few moments to realise what this meant.
‘You stole her toothbrush!’
‘There was a spare in the cupboard. It was time for a newone.’
93/290I was shocked at the theft, but we would now almost certainlyhave a usable sample of DNA. It was difficult not to beimpressed by Rosie’s resourcefulness. And if Natalie was notreplacing her toothbrush at regular intervals Rosie had doneher a favour.
Rosie did not want to analyse the hair or toothbrushimmediately.
She wanted to collect DNA from the final candidate and testthe two samples together. This struck me as illogical. If Natalie’ssample were a match, we would not need to collect furtherDNA. However, Rosie did not seem to grasp the concept ofsequencing tasks to minimise cost and risk.
After the problem with the baby access, we decided tocollaborate on the most appropriate approach for Dr PeterEnticott.
‘I’ll tell him I’m thinking about studying medicine,’ she said. DrEnticott was now in the Medical Faculty at Deakin University.
She would arrange to meet him over coffee, which wouldprovide an opportunity to use the coffee-cup swab procedurethat currently had a one hundred per cent failure rate. Ithought it unlikely that a barmaid could convince a professorthat she had the credentials to study medicine. Rosie seemedinsulted by this, and argued that it did not matter in any case.
We only had to persuade him to have a drink with us.
A bigger problem was how to present me, as Rosie did notthink she could do the job alone. ‘You’re my boyfriend,’ shesaid. ‘You’ll be financing my studies, so you’re a stakeholder.’
She looked at me hard. ‘You don’t need to overplay it.’
On a Wednesday afternoon, with Gene covering a lecture forme in return for the Asperger’s night, we travelled in Phil’s toycar to Deakin University. I had been there many times beforefor guest lectures and collaborative research. I even knew someresearchers in the Medical Faculty, though not Peter Enticott.
94/290We met him at an outdoor café crowded with medical studentsback early from the summer break. Rosie was amazing! Shespoke intelligently about medicine, and even psychiatry, in whichshe said she hoped to specialise. She claimed to have anhonours degree in behavioural science and postgraduateresearch experience.
Peter seemed obsessed with the resemblance between Rosieand her mother, which was irrelevant for our purposes. Threetimes he interrupted Rosie to remind her of their physicalsimilarity, and I wondered if this might indicate some particularbond between him and Rosie’s mother – and hence be apredictor of paternity. I looked, as I had done in EamonnHughes’s living room, for any physical similarities between Rosieand her potential father, but could see nothing obvious.
‘That all sounds very positive, Rosie,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t haveanything to do with the selection process – at least officially.’
His wording appeared to imply the possibility of unofficial, andhence unethical, assistance. Was this a sign of nepotism andthus a clue that he was Rosie’s father?
‘Your academic background is fine, but you’ll have to do theGAMSAT.’ Peter turned to me. ‘The standard admission test forthe MD programme.’
‘I did it last year,’ said Rosie. ‘I got seventy-four.’
Peter looked hugely impressed. ‘You can walk into Harvardwith that score. But we take other factors into account here,so, if you do decide to apply, make sure you let me know.’
I hoped he never went for a drink at the Marquess ofQueensbury.
A waiter brought the bill. As he went to take Peter’s cup, Iautomatically put my hand on it to stop him. The waiter lookedat me extremely unpleasantly and snatched it away. I watchedas he took it to a cart and added it to a tray of crockery.
95/290Peter looked at his phone. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘But nowthat you’ve made contact, stay in touch.’
As Peter left, I could see the waiter looking towards the cart.
‘You need to distract him,’ I said.
‘Just get the cup,’ said Rosie.
I walked towards the cart. The waiter was watching me but,just as I reached the tray, he snapped his head in Rosie’sdirection and began walking quickly towards her. I grabbed thecup.
We met at the car, which was parked some distance away.
The walk gave me time to process the fact that I had, underpressure to achieve a goal, been guilty of theft. Should I senda cheque to the café? What was a cup worth? Cups werebroken all the time, but by random events. If everyone stolecups, the café would probably become financially non-viable.
‘Did you get the cup?’
I held it up.
‘Is it the right one?’ she said.
I am not good at non-verbal communication, but I believe Imanaged to convey the fact that while I might be a petty thiefI do not make errors of observation.
‘Did you pay the bill?’ I asked.
‘That’s how I distracted him.’
‘By paying the bill?’
‘No, you pay at the counter. I just took off.’
‘We have to go back.’
‘Fuck ’em,’ said Rosie, as we climbed into the Porsche andsped off.
What was happening to me?