Chapter 1 #3
‘My selection has been based on a myriad of factors, not exclusively academic. To be a fellow at Banbridge, or indeed, a truly exceptional psychologist at any level, requires self-awareness, restraint. It requires maturity. It requires a deep appreciation of humanity that moves beyond the page, beyond the theory, beyond the university walls. This deep appreciation can only come when one is open to real life, real people, an understanding of the real world. Experience of life beyond the bookshelf.’
White noise, pins and needles in my face.
I look to Dr Burley. His hands are cupped around his eyes, as if shielding himself from some horrible road accident.
I find Frank’s face in the crowd and try to focus on it.
Frank knows best. He always knows best. I want to shout, scream, punch, run, rip that microphone from her hand and …
and what? Tell her she’s wrong? She’s the dean of the university.
She’s got free rein to say what she likes, even if that does mean sabotaging my life’s work, my future career and my reputation. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Frank holds my gaze from the crowd and gives me a gentle smile, as if to say, Stay cool, stay calm. Do not react, just fade her out.
But Dr Winters continues. ‘However, whenever a door shuts, a window opens. Or in this case, two windows. Due to my recent promotion to Dean, and the expansion of the faculty as a whole, for the first time we are in a position to offer two fellowships.’
There is a shuffling in the seated crowd, nudges, whispers and sharp intakes of breath. Especially in the front rows. This could be anyone; this fellowship is now open game.
Dr Winters clears her throat. ‘So without further ado, Dr Gregory Stubbs and Dr Harriet Law, it is my privilege and pleasure to invite you to join us as fellows of the University of Banbridge.’
The crowd erupts in applause. Everyone leaps to their feet.
Gregory has deep colour in his cheeks now and is smiling broadly, bounding up the steps two at a time.
Harriet’s hands fly to her chest and she twirls around, bouncing in excitement as she sidles through our row of classmates to reach the stage.
I don’t know what to do.
So I clap. I paint a smile on my face for Harriet and then I slope off the side of the stage. It’s not that I’m not happy for her. Or Gregory. I’m just … sad and angry and confused. For Dr Burley and Mum and Frank and everyone I’ve let down. Including myself.
I push through the metal fire-exit doors.
Nobody stops me. Nobody even notices. They clatter shut behind me and I stand in the car park, taking deep breaths of fresh air.
I throw my cap to the gravel and strip out of my graduation gown; everything feels heavy and hot and tight.
I jump as I feel a hand on my right elbow. It’s Frank.
‘It’s okay, love, no need to be frightened. It’s all behind you now.’
I press my palms into my eyes and slide down the wall onto the gravel. ‘Did that just happen?’
Frank crouches down beside me and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘We couldn’t be more proud of you, Poppy love, okay? You’ve done better than we could ever have dreamed of. Amazing achievement. You should be proud of yourself and all.’
‘Not so amazing, though, is it? I didn’t get the fellowship.’
‘Let’s go home now, eh?’ says Frank, his knees cracking as he gets up from the ground beside me.
‘Home? I can’t go home! It’s my graduation!’ I tell him. ‘I can’t just leave; I’ve waited for this for years.’
‘It’s up to you, love, you can stay if you like, of course you can. Stay here with all your friends, enjoy the night.’
All my friends: well, that’s going to be awkward, seeing as I spend most of my time with either Harriet or Gregory. A night with the two people I love the most as they excitedly discuss their plans to do the job I wanted so badly in the place I never wanted to leave. Plans that do not involve me.
They will stay, but I will leave.
I hear a surge of applause coming from the other side of the metal doors. Mum’s Ford Escort rolls up beside us. She keeps the engine running, either because she’s afraid it won’t restart or because she wants to make a very fast getaway.
A peal of laughter comes from inside; I can hear Gregory making his acceptance speech.
Breathless and earnest and charming and utterly unscripted.
An impromptu speech in front of hundreds of people wouldn’t faze him at all.
No need for Gregory to rehearse in front of the mirror; he can read a crowd of strangers, build a rapport, rise to the occasion without his tongue swelling thick in his mouth.
I don’t want to go, but how can I stay? It’s over. Just like that. I have no business being here now.
And suddenly I do want to get out of here. I can’t face a night of pitying looks and booze-fuelled commiserations. I haven’t the energy to pretend that it’s no big deal that my entire life plan has caved in and that I have no plan B.
Home, family, Banbridge, bright, future – it’s gone.
It’s not happening. Stop there Charlie Bucket, your ticket is invalid; no entry beyond this point, there’ll be no factory tour for you today, or tomorrow, or ever.
And waiting by the gates catching glimpses of the others won’t do you any good.
In fact it may make things a whole lot worse.
I nod my agreement. Frank helps me to my feet and we climb into the back seat.
We drive down the tree-lined avenue, past the redbrick dormitories and bespectacled cyclists.
Past Ivy Court and the library and the chapel.
Past the manicured gardens and neatly trimmed hedges.
As we reach the junction, I spot my ex-dad’s car speeding past us.
Just as well really. I couldn’t shoulder his disappointment along with everyone else’s right now.
Once I lose the final view of Banbridge from the back window, I turn around in my seat and gaze at the long, grey motorway ahead.
Mum turns the dial on the radio and taps her restless fingers on the steering wheel.
She’s not good with silence. Especially raw, stunned silences like this one.
She’s not sure what to say. Or how to say it.
I should be cracking open the champagne with Harriet at the student bar.
I should be kissing my gorgeous Gregory on his perfect bow lips and rebuffing his drunken attempts to carry me off to bed.
I should be choosing curtains for my lodgings and ordering new bookshelves for my office.
I loop Frank’s arm and feel his body clench tight and then soften to release a huge, trumpeting fart.
I can feel it bubbling under my seat. At least he didn’t do that mid-ceremony.
Or in front of Gregory’s parents. Oh my God, that would’ve been so awful.
Despite myself, I half laugh. It’s the only thing I can imagine right now that could actually make this situation even worse.
Because one thing is for sure, today is nothing like I ever imagined.
I should not be in the back of the car enveloped in the thick fug of Frank’s IBS. I should not feel as shit and ashamed and exhausted as I do. I hold my face. Something is going to crack.
Frank shuffles in his seat as he releases another massively loud fart. Mum darts us a confused look in the rear-view mirror.
‘I’m sorry, love, I’ve just been holding it in for ages. It’s not my fault; it’s just the way my body works – when these things have got to come out, then they’ve just got to come out.’
As Mum tuts, turns up the radio and winds down the windows, I just give in.
I stop fighting it and I start to laugh, right from the pit of my stomach.
But then I realise I’m not laughing at all.
I’m crying, great big breathless sobs. Mum tries to rub my knee from the front seat; Frank puts his arm around me and cuddles me.
‘It’s okay now, Poppy, just let it all out. Everything will make more sense once we get you back home. Onwards and upwards.’
Downwards and backwards, more like.
I slouch back in my seat and close my eyes. Resigned, defeated and absolutely bloody exhausted. And on my way back home. Because after all, I’ve got nowhere else to go.