Girl on the Run (23 page)

About the author

Rhoda Baxter writes contemporary romantic comedies. She has lived all over the world, including the Pacific island of Yap, Nigeria, Sri Lanka and Didcot. She now lives in East Yorkshire with one husband, two children and no pets or carnivorous plants.

Rhoda studied at the University of Oxford and holds a DPhil in microbiology. When choosing a pen name, she got nostalgic about the bacteria she used to study (
Rhodobacter species) and named herself Rhoda Baxter after them.

Now her day job involves protecting and commercialising intellectual property generated by university research. This allows her to stay in touch with cutting edge scientific research without having to spend long hours in the lab.

Rhoda is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association.
Girl on the Run
is her first novel published by a Choc Lit imprint. Her first paperback novel with Choc Lit,
Doctor January
, will be published in August 2014.

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More Choc Lit from Rhoda Baxter
Arriving August 2014

If you keep looking back, you might miss what’s standing right in front of you …

Six months after a painful break-up from Gordon, Beth’s finally getting her life back on track. She has faith in her own scientific theories and is willing to work hard to prove them. She’s even beginning to see Hibbs, her dedicated lab partner, as more than just a lousy lothario in a lab-coat and goggles.

So when Gordon arrives back from America without warning and expects to be welcomed back into Beth’s arms, she’s totally thrown. She also quickly begins to see that Gordon isn’t the man she thought he was …
Hibbs has always held a candle for Beth, but he can only wait so long for her to realise there’s more to life than being patronised and bullied by the one who’s meant to love and protect her.

Will Beth
forsee the explosive nature beneath Gordon’s placid surface before he destroys everything she’s worked for, both inside and outside the lab?

Extract
from
Doctor January
:

Chapter One

Beth removed her cycle helmet and fluffed up her hair before she punched in the security code to get into the labs. As soon as she entered the corridor, she heard the shouting. Since she hadn’t had a card or text from Gordon, she was hoping she’d at least get a couple of cards and ‘happy birthdays’ from her colleagues, but it looked like she got to witness some sort of argument instead.

Vik
, her fellow PhD student, was standing beside the door to the lab, apparently listening.

A female voice wailed, ‘You care more about those bloody bacteria than you do about me!’

Beth shot Vik a questioning glance. He put a finger to his lips, so she stopped outside the door too.

Hibs
said something, his voice too low for Beth to make out the words.

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind,’ the woman said. ‘You can keep your experiments. I’ve had enough. We’re finished.’ Footsteps stamped towards the door.

Beth pulled back, flattening herself against the wall.

‘Wait,’
Hibs said, and the footsteps stopped. ‘You forgot your scarf.’

The girl made a strangled
ugh
noise and stormed out of the door. Beth tried to look like she hadn’t been listening outside as the girl gave another
ugh
, marched down the corridor and slammed the security door behind her.

Beth entered the lab to find
Hibs concentrating on his computer screen. ‘Are you okay?’

Hibs
tied back his long hair and shrugged. He was tall and slim and moved like something on the hunt. A
Japanese ancestor a few generations back meant he had a faint, high-cheekboned exoticism about him. Beth was so comfortable hanging out with him as a friend, it sometimes surprised her that he was such a success with women. On the other hand, he was so phenomenally bad at keeping hold of the ones he bedded that being his friend was a far better long-term option.

‘That one lasted ... what, two weeks?’ Beth asked as she hung up her coat.

‘Ten days,’ said Hibs as he returned his attention to the computer.

Beth shook her head. ‘Anyone would think you don’t really want a girlfriend.’

‘Why would I want a girlfriend? They just get in the way and make you go to dinner parties,’ he said, without turning away from the screen.

‘Not all of them.’

Hibs grinned. ‘Enough pleasantries, come look at this.’ A Plexiglas partition separated the lab into two zones –

a
dry area with desks and computers and, beyond it, the ‘wet’ area, where the lab benches were. Beth tossed her bags under her desk and went to stand next to Hibs. He pointed to some red and green pictures on the screen. ‘Oh cool. Are those your glow-in-the-dark bacteria?’

‘Uh huh. GFP – green fluorescent protein.’ He clicked a button and the images overlaid each other to show little black ovals with green spots. ‘The green is my protein. Look, you can see where it clusters in the cell.’

Beth nudged him out of the way and leaned closer to look at the images, which showed a bacterium with two glowing green patches. ‘That’s cool,’ she said. Her finger traced the pattern of green. ‘So, if we compared these to images of your mutant bacteria and my mutant bacteria ...’

‘We could see if yours holds the other proteins together.’ Hibs finished off her sentence.

‘Can we do it in time for Roger’s presentation next month? We’ve got six weeks.’ It was their supervisor’s turn to present the research done in his lab to the microbiology department’s annual symposium. But Beth felt that the slides she’d contributed to the talk were not very interesting – they didn’t show any conclusions as to what the protein she was studying actually did.

Hibs frowned. ‘Not sure.’

Beth pulled her diary out and started marking off the days. ‘Let’s see. We each need to make the strains ... at least six sets of images
each ...’ She crossed off days until she ran out.

‘We don’t have time.’
Hibs’s voice was full of disappointment. ‘Bugger. It would have been really good. Lots of nice pictures you could have used in your thesis.’

Beth stared glumly at the diary covered in pencil marks. If she could produce data that told a nice, solid story, then Roger would have to show her some respect. And she could get a decent research paper out of it. ‘We can still do the experiments,’ she said. ‘It just won’t be done in time.’

‘What are you two looking so pissed off about?’ Vik came in carrying a small bucket of ice chips. When he’d first arrived, they’d tried to use his full name – Kaushalya Vikramarathne – but ever since their first trip to the pub, he’d been known simply as Vik.

Beth outlined the problem and
Vik pulled a face. ‘Why don’t you use the microscopes downstairs?’

Hibs
shook his head. ‘Booked solid for three months. They’re only free at night.’

For a moment, they were all silent as Beth stood in
between the two men. There was a nice symmetry to it, she thought – her, small and blonde, in between two guys who were both tall and dark. Beth and her boys.

‘Shame you’re not nocturnal,’
Vik said.

Nocturnal. Working at night had not occurred to her, but now
Vik had mentioned it, it was an obvious solution. She looked at Hibs to see if he was thinking the same thing.

He was. ‘We
could
run the experiments at night,’ Hibs said. ‘It would probably be better, come to think of it. Less chance of someone knocking the microscope out of frame.’

‘We could run our two experiments
simultaneously ...’ said Beth, excitement rising in her chest. ‘And take it in turns to do the night shift ...’

They looked at the diary again.

‘It’ll be a close call,’ said Hibs. ‘We’d have to work every night to get it done in time.’ He tapped a staccato rhythm with his pen. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m up for it if you are,’ Beth said
.
‘You know me,’ said Hibs. ‘I’m always up for it.’
Beth gave him a mock punch on the shoulder. ‘Seriously

though
, it would take up lots of time. And neither of us would be able to have a social life.’

Hibs
shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I’m single.’

Beth glanced at him to see if he was going to comment on the limbo status of her own relationship with Gordon but, thankfully, he said nothing.
Vik shook his head and headed off to the other end of the lab.

‘I’m going to ask Roger at the lab meeting,’ said Beth. ‘When he sees that my results don’t support his theory, he’s bound to let me try and prove mine.’

Beth felt she did well in her presentation, putting up slides of DNA sequences and bar charts to show what the mutant bacteria did. At the start of her PhD, standing here in front of even three people would have terrified her into stuttering. Now she was able to talk with more confidence.

‘So,’ she said in conclusion. ‘There are two possibilities: either my protein acts as an “on” switch for the rest of the proteins, or it holds them together so that they can communicate. Judging by these results, I think it’s the second explanation.’

‘Let’s have a look at those graphs again.’ Roger, her supervisor, crossed his arms over his belly. He raised his eyebrows, making them ride up into his thinning curls. ‘It looks like they support the first hypothesis.’

Beth flicked back to the right slide.
‘Yes, but the data points are scattered. There isn’t a significant effect.’ Roger glared at her for just long enough to tell her that he did not appreciate being contradicted. Beth looked away.

‘No, I think you’re wrong,’ Roger said. ‘You just need more data.’ He leaned back in his seat and tapped the end of his pen on the table. ‘Do me some slides. I’m going to throw some of this stuff into my departmental presentation. The highlight will be
Hibs’s pictures, of course.’

‘Actually,’ said Beth. ‘I’m hoping to put
Hibs’s GFP proteins into mutants that are missing my protein. If my protein is holding them together, removing it will make the green end up scattered instead of nicely packed into clusters. I’ve already started making—’

‘Is this true?’ Roger turned to
Hibs, who looked surprised.

Beth bristled. Why did he need to ask
Hibs for confirmation? Roger always did this –pretended that she
was incapable of independent thought. If he didn’t think she should be in science, then why on earth had he taken her on as a PhD student?

‘Yes,’
Hibs said. ‘Beth has started making the strains. As she just said.’ He nodded to Beth.

‘Well, I think you should concentrate on getting those graphs sorted out,’ Roger said. ‘I need those slides by the end of the month. You need a couple of extra data sets so you’ll have to get a move on.’

‘But the images—’

‘Okay. Is there anything else?’ Roger looked round the table.
Vik and Hibs both shook their heads. ‘Right,’ said Roger. ‘I’ll see you next week.’ He turned to Beth. ‘Keep me posted on how that data set is coming along. Now, I’ve got a meeting to go to.’ He swept out.

Beth slapped the laptop shut, muttering under her breath. She had been working in Roger’s lab for two years now and it was always the same. He undermined her at every step. It wasn’t as though he was even a good supervisor. She wouldn’t get any real direction on her project if it weren’t for
Hibs.

‘Hey, steady on,’ said
Hibs. ‘It’s not the computer’s fault that our boss is an arse.’

‘How come you don’t get this kind of crap?’ Beth said to
Vik, who was in his first year of a PhD and seemed to be getting an easy ride of it so far.

Vik
shrugged. ‘Maybe it takes him a while to work up a vat of bile.’

‘I think it’s because he doesn’t like women in the lab.’ The minute she said it, doubt niggled. It was all very well bringing out the sexism card, but was it true? Could she be sure it wasn’t just her that Roger didn’t rate?

‘He’s a bully,’ said Hibs. ‘You really should stand up
for yourself a bit more, Beth. You’re good at what you do. You know that.’

The environment at her work was so stifling, with its hierarchies and politics. It made her so angry. There must be less confrontational places to work. ‘Yeah, well, just wait until I get enough data to write up my thesis. I am
so
going to get into industry.’

Hibs
poured out fresh teas and coffees for all three of them. ‘What makes you think it’s any better out there?’ he asked as he put the drinks on a tray. ‘Get the door for me, will you, Vik.’

They trooped upstairs, past Roger’s office and into the lab. Beth paused to check her pigeonhole for post.
A card from Mum and Dad. A couple from friends from undergrad days, most of them joking about being a quarter of a century old. She raced through them, scanning to see who they were from and checking the envelopes twice, in case Gordon had sent the card home for someone to post. Nothing.