Chapter 29

I cycled to the university on Saturday morning with anunidentifiable, and therefore disconcerting, emotion. Things weresettling back into their normal pattern. The day’s testing wouldmark the end of the Father Project. At worst, Rosie might finda person that we had overlooked – another tutor or caterer orperhaps someone who had left the party early – but a singleadditional test would not take long. And I would have noreason to see Rosie again.
We met at the lab. There were three samples to test: the swabfrom Isaac Esler’s fork, a urine sample on toilet paper fromFreyberg’s floor, and Gene’s table napkin. I had still not toldRosie about the handkerchief from Margaret Case, but wasanxious to get a result on Gene’s sample. There was a strongpossibility that Gene was Rosie’s father. I tried not to thinkabout it, but it was consistent with Gene’s reaction to thephoto, his identification of Rosie’s mother and his history ofcasual sex.
‘What’s the napkin?’ asked Rosie.
I was expecting this question.
229/290‘Retest. One of the earlier samples was contaminated.’
My improving ability at deception was not enough to fool Rosie.
‘Bullshit. Who is it? It’s Case, isn’t it? You got a sample forGeoffrey Case.’
It would have been easy to say yes but identifying the sampleas Case’s would create great confusion if it tested positive. Aweb of lies.
‘I’ll tell you if it’s the one,’ I said.
‘Tell me now,’ said Rosie. ‘It is the one.’
‘How can you know?’
‘I just know.’
‘You have zero evidence. Isaac Esler’s story makes him anexcellent candidate. He was committed to getting married tosomeone else right after the party. He admits to being drunk.
He was evasive at dinner.
He’s standing next to your mother in the photo.’
This was something we had not discussed before. It was suchan obvious thing to have checked. Gene had once given me anexercise to do at conferences: ‘If you want to know who’ssleeping with who, just look at who they sit with at breakfast.’
Whoever Rosie’s mother had been with that night would likelybe standing next to her. Unless of course he was required totake the photo.
‘My intuition versus your logic. Wanna bet?’
It would have been unfair to take the bet. I had the advantageof the knowledge from the basement encounter. Realistically, Iconsidered Isaac Esler, Gene and Geoffrey Case to be equallylikely. I had mulled over Esler’s reference to ‘people involved’
and concluded that it was ambiguous. He might have beenprotecting his friend but he could equally have been hidingbehind him. Though, if Esler was not himself the father, hecould simply have told me to test his sample. Perhaps his planwas to confuse me, in which case it had succeeded, but onlytemporarily. Esler’s deceptive behaviour had caused me toreview an earlier decision. If we reached a point where we hadeliminated all230/290other candidates, including Esler, I would test the sample I hadcollected from Margaret Case.
‘Anyway it’s definitely not Freyberg,’ said Rosie, interrupting mythinking.
‘Why not?’ Freyberg was the least likely, but certainly notimpossible.
‘Green eyes. I should have thought of it at the time.’
She interpreted my expression correctly: disbelief.
‘Come on, you’re the geneticist. He’s got green eyes so hecan’t be my father. I checked it on the internet.’
Amazing. She retains a professor of genetics, an alien ofextraordinary abilities, to help find her father, she travels for aweek spending almost every minute of the waking day withhim, yet when she wants the answer to a question on geneticsshe goes to the internet.
‘Those models are simplifications.’
‘Don, my mother had blue eyes. I have brown eyes. My realfather had to have brown eyes, right?’
‘Wrong,’ I said. ‘Highly likely but not certain. The genetics ofeye colour are extremely complex. Green is possible. Also blue.’
‘A medical student – a doctor – would know that, wouldn’tshe?’
Rosie was obviously referring to her mother. I thought it wasprobably not the right time to give Rosie a detailed account ofthe deficiencies in medical education.
I just said, ‘Highly un likely. Gene used to teach genetics tomedical students. That’s a typical Gene simplification.’
‘Fuck Gene,’ said Rosie. ‘I am so over Gene. Just test thenapkin. It’s the one.’ But she sounded less sure.
‘What are you going to do when you find out?’
This question should have been asked earlier. Failure to raise itwas another result of lack of planning but, now that I couldpicture Gene as the father, Rosie’s future actions became morerelevant to me.
231/290‘Funny you should ask,’ said Rosie. ‘I said it was about closure.
But I think, subconsciously, I had this fantasy that my realfather would come riding in and … deal with Phil.’
‘For failing to keep the Disneyland promise? It would surely bedifficult to devise a suitable punishment after so much time.’
‘I said it was a fantasy,’ she said. ‘I saw him as some sort ofhero. But now I know it’s one of three people, and I’ve mettwo of them. Isaac Esler: “We must not revisit the past lightly.”
Max Freyberg: “I consider myself a restorer of self-esteem.”
Wankers, both of them. Just weak guys who ran away.’
The lack of logic here was astounding. At most, one of themhad deserted her.
‘Geoffrey Case …’ I began, thinking Rosie’s characterisationwould not apply to him, but if Rosie knew about the mannerof his death she might interpret it as a means of escaping hisresponsibilities.
‘I know, I know. But if it turns out to be someone else, somemiddle-aged guy who’s pretending to be something he isn’t,then time’s up, arsehole.’
‘You’re planning to expose him?’ I asked, horrified. Suddenly itstruck me that I could be involved in causing great pain tosomeone, very possibly my best friend. To his whole family!
Rosie’s mother had not wanted Rosie to know. Perhaps thiswas why. By default, Rosie’s mother knew more about humanbehaviour than I did.
‘Correct.’
‘But you’ll be inflicting pain. For no compensatory gain.’
‘ I’ll feel better.’
‘Incorrect,’ I said. ‘Research shows that revenge adds to thedistress of the victim –’
‘That’s my choice.’
There was the possibility that Rosie’s father was Geoffrey Case,in which case all three samples would test negative, and itwould be too232/290late for Rosie to wreak her revenge. I did not want to rely onthat possibility.
I turned off the machine.
‘Stop,’ said Rosie. ‘I have a right to know.’
‘Not if it causes suffering.’
‘What about me?’ she said. ‘Don’t you care about me?’ Shewas becoming emotional. I felt very calm. Reason was incontrol again. My thoughts were straight.
‘I care about you enormously. So I can’t contribute to youdoing something immoral.’
‘Don, if you don’t do the test, I’m never going to speak to youagain.
Ever.’
This information was painful to process, but rationally entirelypredictable.
‘I’d assumed that was inevitable,’ I said. ‘The project will becomplete, and you’ve indicated no further interest in the sexualaspect.’
‘So it’s my fault?’ said Rosie. ‘Of course it’s my fault. I’m not afucking non-smoking teetotal chef with a PhD. I’m notorganised.’
‘I’ve deleted the non-drinking requirement.’ I realised that shewas referring to the Wife Project. But what was she saying?
That she was evaluating herself according to the criteria of theWife Project? Which meant –‘You considered me as a partner?’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Except for the fact that you have no idea ofsocial behaviour, your life’s ruled by a whiteboard and you’reincapable of feeling love – you’re perfect.’
She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
I turned the machine on. Without Rosie in the room, I couldsafely test the samples and then decide what to do with them.
Then I heard the door open again. I turned around, expectingto see Rosie. Instead it was the Dean.
233/290‘Working on your secret project, Professor Tillman?’
I was in serious trouble. In all previous encounters with theDean, I had been following the rules, or the infraction hadbeen too minor to punish. Using the DNA machine for privatepurposes was a substantial breach of the Genetics Departmentregulations. How much did she know? She did not normallywork on weekends. Her presence was not an accident.
‘Fascinating stuff, according to Simon Lefebvre,’ said the Dean.
‘He comes into my office and asks me about a project in myown faculty.
One that apparently requires that we collect his DNA. As youdo. I gather there was some sort of joke involved. Pardon mylack of humour, but I was at a slight disadvantage – havingnever heard of the project. Surely, I thought, I would haveseen the proposal when it went to the ethics committee.’
Up to this point, the Dean had seemed cool and rational. Nowshe raised her voice.
‘I’ve been trying for two years to get the Medical Faculty tofund a joint research project – and you decide not only tobehave grossly unethically but to do it to the man who holdsthe purse strings. I want a written report. If it doesn’t includean ethics approval that I somehow haven’t seen yet, we’ll beadvertising an associate professor position.’
The Dean stopped at the door.
‘I’m still holding your complaint about Kevin Yu. You mightwant to think about that. And I’ll have your lab key, thankyou.’
The Father Project was over. Officially.
Gene came into my office the following day as I wascompleting an EPDS questionnaire.
‘Are you okay?’ he said. This was a timely question.
234/290‘I suspect not. I’ll tell you in approximately fifteen seconds.’ Icompleted the questionnaire, calculated the result, and passed itto Gene.
‘Sixteen,’ I told him. ‘Second-highest score ever.’
Gene looked at it. ‘ Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale.
Do I have to point out that you haven’t had a baby recently?’
‘I don’t answer the baby-related questions. It was the onlydepression instrument Claudia had at home when my sisterdied. I’ve continued using it for consistency.’
‘This is what we call “getting in touch with our feelings”, is it?’
said Gene.
I sensed that the question was rhetorical and did not reply.
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I think I can fix this thing for you.’
‘You have news from Rosie?’
‘For Chrissakes, Don,’ said Gene. ‘I have news from the Dean.
I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but DNA testing withoutethics approval – that’s “career over”.’
I knew this. I had decided to phone Amghad, the golf-clubboss, and ask him about the cocktail-bar partnership. It seemedlike time to do something different. It had been a weekend ofrude awakenings. I had arrived home after the interaction withthe Dean to find that Eva, my housekeeper, had filled in acopy of the Wife Project questionnaire. On the front, she hadwritten: ‘Don. Nobody is perfect. Eva.’ In my state ofheightened vulnerability, I had been extremely affected by this.
Eva was a good person whose short skirts were perhapsintended to attract a partner and who would have beenembarrassed by her relatively low socio-economic status as sheanswered questions about postgraduate qualifications andappreciation of expensive food. I reflected on all the womenwho had completed my questionnaire, hoping that they mightfind a partner. Hoping that partner might be me, even thoughthey did not know much about me and would probably bedisappointed if they did.
235/290I had poured myself a glass of Pinot Noir and gone out to thebalcony. The city lights reminded me of the lobster dinner withRosie that, contrary to the predictions of the questionnaire, hadbeen one of the most enjoyable meals of my life. Claudia hadtold me I was being too picky but Rosie had demonstrated inNew York that my assessment of what would make me happywas totally incorrect. I sipped the wine slowly and watched theview change. A window went dark, a traffic light changed fromred to green, an ambulance’s flashing lights bounced off thebuildings. And it dawned on me that I had not designed thequestionnaire to find a woman I could accept, but to findsomeone who might accept me.
Regardless of what decisions I might make as a result of myexperiences with Rosie, I would not use the questionnaire again.
The Wife Project was over.
Gene had more to say. ‘No job, no structure, no schedule.
You’ll fall apart.’ He looked at the depression questionnaireagain. ‘You’re falling apart already. Listen. I’m going to say thatit was a Psych Department project. We’ll make up an ethicsapplication, and you can say you thought it had beenapproved.’
Gene was obviously doing his best to be helpful. I smiled forhis benefit.
‘Does that take a few points off the score?’ he said, waving theEPDSquestionnaire.
‘I suspect not.’
There was a silence. Neither of us apparently had anything tosay. I expected Gene to leave. But he tried again.
‘Help me here, Don. It’s Rosie, isn’t it?’
‘It makes no sense.’
‘Let me put this simply,’ said Gene. ‘You’re unhappy – sounhappy that you’ve lost perspective on your career, yourreputation, your holy schedule.’
236/290This was true.
‘Shit, Don, you broke the rules. Since when do you breakrules?’
It was a good question. I respect rules. But in the lastninety-nine days, I had broken many rules, legal, ethical andpersonal. I knew exactly when it had started. The day Rosiewalked into my office and I hacked into Le Gavroche’sreservation system so I could go on a date with her.
‘All this because of a woman?’ said Gene.
‘Apparently. It’s totally irrational.’ I felt embarrassed. It was onething to make a social error, another to admit that rationalityhad deserted me.
‘It’s only irrational if you believe in your questionnaire.’
‘The EPDS is highly –’
‘I’m talking about your “Do you eat kidneys?” questionnaire. I’dsay genetics one, questionnaire nil.’
‘You consider the situation with Rosie to be the result ofgenetic compatibility?’
‘You have such a way with words,’ Gene said. ‘If you want tobe a bit more romantic about it, I’d say you were in love.’
This was an extraordinary statement. It also made absolutesense. I had assumed that romantic love would always beoutside my realm of experience. But it perfectly accounted formy current situation. I wanted to be sure.
‘This is your professional opinion? As an expert on humanattraction?’
Gene nodded.
‘Excellent.’ Gene’s insight had transformed my mental state.
‘Not sure how that helps,’ said Gene.
‘Rosie identified three faults. Fault number one was the inabilityto feel love. There are only two left to rectify.’
‘And they would be?’
237/290‘Social protocols and adherence to schedules. Trivial.’