Doctor January by Rhoda Baxter Page A

time.’
    â€˜I will. Don’t worry.’ Seeing him turn to go, she added, ‘How can you be so sure that my hypothesis is wrong?’ Was she missing something obvious? Some key fact that Roger knew but she had overlooked?
    â€˜Because if you’ve been doing this stuff as long as I have, you have a good understanding of the background work. Your protein will not make any difference to the way the tagged proteins localise. It looks like a signalling protein, not a structural protein.’ Roger glared at her. ‘I don’t expect you to know everything, Beth, but I expect a basic understanding of the fundamentals. Clearly, you don’t even have that. I don’t know why I bothered taking you on as a PhD student. It looks bad on me when you fail.’ He turned and walked off.
    Beth stared at Roger’s retreating back, too astounded to speak. To criticise her science was one thing, but to attack her personally like that? It just wasn’t on.
    Vik came up from the far end of the lab. ‘Harsh.’
    Beth leaned against the desk. ‘Yeah.’ What was it about her that got Roger’s back up like that? Was it simply that she was a woman? Or was there more to it than that? She looked up at Vik. ‘Do you ever get this sort of thing from Roger?’
    â€˜What? Abuse?’ said Vik. ‘No.’ He paused. ‘At least, not as much as you do.’
    Beth shook her head. ‘If I was wasting time, Hibs would have said.’
    Vik shrugged. ‘I should think so.’
    Beth stared thoughtfully at the floor. Roger was entitled to his opinion, but there was no excuse for his behaviour. How much trouble would she get into if she made a complaint about bullying? She could count on some people from WIS to support her. Hibs would back her up too. Except … her PhD rested in Roger’s hands. He could really mess with her chances of completing it. She’d put up with it for this long, so maybe she would be better off just sticking it out until the end of the year, when she could write up and get her PhD.
    â€˜Hey,’ Vik said. ‘Cheer up. He’s probably just sore that you didn’t ask him to be in your calendar.’
    Beth gave him a grateful smile. She didn’t believe it for a moment, but it was nice of Vik to say so. ‘Thanks, Vik.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better get on with some work.’
    Hibs’s phone rang and the caller ID flashed up ‘Mrs Tait’, though she much preferred for him to call her Winifred. He’d put her in his phone as Mrs Tait twelve years ago, when he’d started doing her gardening in the summer holidays, and had never changed it. He tugged off his gloves to answer it.
    â€˜James, darling. How are you?’ Winifred Tait’s voice was quiet and businesslike.
    â€˜I’m fine, Winn. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
    â€˜I’m in the area next Tuesday. I was wondering if you’d join me for a spot of lunch. My treat, naturally.’
    Hibs hesitated. Lunch invites from Mrs Tait were always more than they seemed. He didn’t mind when he was at home, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to mix the two worlds.
    â€˜Just lunch. No strings attached,’ Winn added.
    Hibs imagined her sitting in her office, in that big chair that reclined all the way back. No strings. She always said that. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, but Winifred Tait, the most glamorous woman he knew, was taking him to lunch, in a hotel where she had a room for the night, no doubt. No strings. Unless he wanted there to be.
    â€˜Lunch would be lovely, Winn. When and where shall I meet you?’
    â€˜I’ve heard Le Manoir is good. Stockton says traffic in the city centre is dreadful, so where do you suggest we pick you up? I’ll be coming from Lechlade.’
    Le Manoir! Winn liked to do things in style.
    They arranged a time and place for her