Cole cleared his throat. Ran one finger inside the rim of his shirt collar. Blotted his brow with a chequered handkerchief.
The audience rustled in anticipation.
Cooper cracked, grabbing the microphone before his more rational side could stop him. ‘Due to the exceptional progress made on our most significant project, investigating potential treatments for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, which clearly must take precedence over a… over smaller projects with less… without so much… promise… Professor Cole along with the rest of the department agreed that the ME study must take priority, for now, and therefore—’
‘It was my fault!’
Cooper nearly choked on his own half-baked excuse.
Bridget stood up, waving her arm in the air to ensure she caught everyone’s attention. As all eyes swung around to her, he took the opportunity to remind his diaphragm that it was supposed to keep moving.
She wore a bright yellow dress, her hair curled up on top of her head like an old-time Hollywood starlet. Eyes shining with emotions that he couldn’t begin to try to fathom with three shots of whisky clogging up his neurons.
‘Totally, all my fault,’ she called again. ‘I was in charge of the project, and I messed it up. Subconscious sabotage. After weeks of failing to find any suitable candidates, in a moment of unprofessional desperation, I chose my oldest friend as one of the research subjects.’
The neuroscientific and behavioural scientists murmured their disapproval at this revelation.
‘Oh, wait. It gets worse!’ Bridget flapped her hands in a shushing motion. Cooper’s heart had become wedged in his throat, severely impacting its ability to beat.
‘I paired subject one, my oldest friend, with subject two –my own sister.’
The murmur became a rumble.
‘So…’ Bridget had to shout now to be heard ‘… it was me who rendered the project invalid, wilfully deceiving Professor Cole in the process. As soon as the revelations came to light, being the kind and generous man that he is, he allowed me a dignified relocation to another university. Who, I must add, are fully aware of my previous misdemeanour and are supervising me accordingly. Anyone with an ounce of scientific professionalism and a working brain must concede that the only fail Professor Cole made here was in trusting me with his project.’
‘Very well,’ Professor Love replied, eyeing up Cole’s expression and the mood of the room in one swift glance. ‘Given that I’m a fair and honourable woman, I’m prepared to give you another go, Angus. Another year to try again. What do you lot think?’ she asked the crowd, perfectly arched eyebrows raised.
It was impossible to decipher any of the words being thrown at the stage, but Cooper got the general gist. Professor Cole looked on the brink of apoplexy.
‘Unless you wish to concede defeat now?’ Love batted her eyelashes at her rival. ‘Admit that the psychology of compatibility is a true science, equal in validity, depth and complexity to any branch of neuroscience. And that I was, and am, fully deserving of the lifetime achievement award, due to my ingenious research into making our world a more romantic place. Not to mention passionate!’ she added, sparking a wave of whistles and whoops.
Cole nodded his head, his eyes shrivelled into slits. ‘Yes, whatever.’ He took a step towards the edge of the stage, but Prof Love halted his retreat with a bark into the microphone. ‘Uh-uh! I haven’t finished.FinallyI would like you to explain to our good colleagues that this whole debacle was purely due to me having spurned your fumbled advances thirty-four years ago.’
‘I will not!’ Cole looked ready to explode in a purple smoke-bomb of rage. ‘You only rejected me because I didn’t pass your stupid questionnaire!’
‘Oh, Angus, Angus, Angus.’ She tittered. The audience tittered too, not knowing why but knowing it would be good. ‘I rejected you because you are an unpleasant, egotistical narcissist who bullies women. I didn’t need a test to tell me that. In fact, my new head of research, Dr Donovan, has compiled a very thorough and quite frankly fascinating report detailing how you’re still an arrogant, self-obsessed bully to this day. We’ll see what your vice chancellor has to say about it.
‘And on that note, I think it’s high time we moved on. This year’s Henry Munch Lifetime Achievement Award goes to…’
Cooper never did find out who it went to.
The energy that had been building inside him since Bridget had stood up reached critical levels, propelling him off the stage and towards her. As the smatter of applause surrounded them she grabbed his hand, and, exchanging a look that contained a thousand words, they began weaving in and out of the tables until they reached the exit.
‘Hi!’ She gasped, once they were safely tucked away in a storeroom full of cleaning supplies.
‘Hello, Widget.’ He knew he should probably stop staring at her, at least blink or something, but, standing a mere foot away, her soft, warm hand still enclosed in his, he was mesmerised. There was nothing but her.
‘A bit embarrassing.’ She rolled her eyes, but her smile was like the sun bursting through months of thunderclouds.
‘You didn’t have to do that.’ He sounded breathless. Hewasbreathless.
‘Yeah, I did. And it’s fine. Ernestine knows what really happened.’
They stood there, gazing at each other, and for the first time all pretence tumbled away. Bridget’s eyes said all he needed to know.
Here she was, his heart. And she loved him.
‘I wanted to call you.’
