Summer term is flying by, days blending into one as tensions mount and the exams loom ever closer.
Typically, whilst the whole undergraduate student population of Cambridge is immersed in frantic revision, the weather outside is unfairly beautiful. But missing out on lovely days is the least of our concerns when competition for study space is taking up everyone's free anxiety.
If there's one thing that Cambridge is not short of, it's libraries. Unfortunately, even all the University and college libraries put together don't have quite enough room for every single student to have their own assigned space, so we have to do a fair bit of sharing. There are, of course, certain highly-sought-after spots, resulting in some unwilling hot-desking and rather underhand table-poaching. It's not unheard of for students to leave their study area for a leg-stretch or coffee, and return twenty minutes later to find all their books and carefully-arranged post-it notes casually dumped on the floor, and someone else occupying their seat. Which is poor form; once someone has claimed a desk, it's an unwritten rule that they may take possession of it for the remainder of the day. Desk etiquette is the number one reason for library brawls right now, with illicit removal and hoarding of key text-books a close second. But I have to say, watching people mime furiously at each other over whose desk it is, is such fun; much more fun than the repetitive tedium of trying (and failing) to understand nerve capacitance, at any rate.
There's no room in my timetable for library drama today; despite exams being only two days away, I've stupidly agreed to have lunch with the girls at Indigo café. Mainly because Veronica assured me she'd be attending, and she's even more paranoid about failing than I am, but also partly out of concern that if I didn't show, Saffron and Judith would somehow bypass college security and drag me bodily out of the library and across Cambridge city in front of everyone.
Whilst I'm not exactly feeling full of confidence for these exams, I'm definitely better prepared than I was this time last year. And of course, dating a certain Al Potter isn't doing me any harm either.
It's just gone twenty-five past twelve and I'm waiting patiently by Trinity Hall's main gate for Saffron, who was supposed to be here five minutes ago. Eventually, she casually strolls into view, totally absorbed by something on her mobile phone.
"Honestly Saff, you'd be late to your own funeral."
"I thought we were all meeting up at half-past?" Saffron asks, snapping her focus away from her phone screen to gaze at me in confusion. "I'm early!"
"Actually, you're late. We were supposed to meet outside your college at twenty past."
"It doesn't take ten minutes to walk to the market square from Tit Hall, you dolt."
"I was factoring in your natural tardiness."
Judith and Veronica are waiting for us just outside Senate House, a few yards away from the market square. We say our hellos and start walking together in the direction of Indigo café. There's an awkward lull in conversation to begin with, as though we've all got only one topic on our minds and none of us dare speak it out loud.
"Would anyone mind if I pop into Papermoon?" Judith asks, finally breaking the silence as we draw level with a stationery shop. "I need to buy a birthday card for my Mum."
"Fine by me. I could do with a new notepad, and Papermoon have some really nice ones," I reply in a rush, relieved that someone's finally started something.
"I'll wait outside. I've already spent far too much online this month and I know I'll be unable to resist the lure of the pen section," says Veronica dolefully.
"I'm not going in either," states Saffron. "I might nip over to Shoe-bee-doo instead. There's a new pair of lace Louboutins in the window that I want to drool over. Ronnie, are you coming?"
"Only if you promise to stop me from buying yet another pair of Doc Martens that I don't actually need."
"It's a deal. We'll meet you two back here in ten minutes," says Saffron, tucking her arm into Veronica's as they wander off together.
Within a few minutes, Judith and I are both installed in Papermoon and lost to the glorious world of stationery; Judith in the card aisle and me in the writing section. It's almost impossible to select just one notebook when faced with so many options, but I don't need twenty pads, regardless of how pretty they all are. In the end, I choose an A4 ring-bound one with a snazzy, horizontally-striped cover, and wander over to where Judith is now perusing pens.
"Do you think Ronnie would like this?" Judith picks up a sparkly blue biro with multicoloured glitter fishes in the barrel.
"That's so sweet of you, Jude - I reckon she'd love it."
Which reminds me; it's Judith's birthday next week. Smack bang in the middle of exams, poor woman. I make a mental note to ask Saffron and Veronica later if they want to chip in for a joint present.
We pay for our purchases and wait outside Papermoon for the others to return, only to find - to my surprise and delight - that they're accompanied by Al and Leonard when they finally reappear. Judging by the Shoe-bee-doo carrier bag on her arm, Saffron has obviously indulged in a little more than mere window-shopping.
"Saff, you didn't!" Judith exclaims, shaking her head at the slightly guilty grin on Saffron's face.
"I needed a new pair of shoes for Tit Hall's June event," Saffron shrugs, "and surely I deserve a nice reward for all that revision I've done so far?"
"Plus they were reduced, and they really are utterly beautiful," adds Veronica. "It would have been criminal not to."
"Enabler," snorts Judith.
I slip my arms around Al's waist. "What are you guys doing here? You didn't mention anything yesterday!"
"Spur of the moment decision," he says, reciprocating the hug and planting a light kiss on my forehead. "Lenny sent me a text about an hour ago."
"Well, when I heard that you lot were planning lunch together, I thought us guys could meet up for a quick bite too. I just messaged Saff and she told us where you all were," replies Leonard.
"Where are you going, then?"
"Spoonies," replies Leonard cheerfully. "Can't beat something cheap and greasy, washed down with a pint of finest German lager."
"Guys! We've got exams in just under two days and you're drinking?" I ask, horrified by this revelation. "And just think of the atherosclerotic plaques you'll be developing! Your blood vessels won't thank you, you know."
"Relax, Sunny; it's only one pint," replies Al, giving me a lazy smile as he ruffles my hair.
"It's astonishing how one pint can multiply into ten," I mutter darkly, pushing his hand away. "And that food is packed full of saturated fat and no good for brain-power whatsoever!"
"Oh come off it, angel-cake; you can hardly talk, considering the crap you snack on!"
I ignore Leonard's frankly very rude comment to sternly carry on with my scolding. "And what about Yoshi? You didn't think to ask him to join you?"
"Of course we did. It was a flat No."
"Can't say I'm surprised," states Veronica blandly.
"Nor were we, but we thought we'd better invite him anyway. I'm surprised you're here, Ronnie!"
"Jude can be bloody persuasive when she wants to be," she replies with a wry grin. "Believe me, I'm battling quite hard with my conscience right now."
Judith checks her watch and looks around impatiently. "Hey, we're due at the restaurant in about five minutes. Where's Saff gone now?"
"She's just over there, in front of the Cambridge satchel shop," says Veronica. "I'll go and collect her."
"Al, will you stick this in your bag for me?" I say, handing him the wrapped notebook I've just purchased. "I've got nothing to put it in and it'll save me carrying it to lunch."
"Sure," he replies easily, slipping the item away. "Where are you off to again?"
"Indigo café, for something wholesome, vegetarian and non-greasy. Washed down with organic green tea."
"How very pretentious and middle-class of you, Shortcake."
"Oh, absolutely. Wooden salad bowls, quinoa cake, macramé hanging baskets, the lot," I reply, before sticking my tongue out at Leonard.
"You're remarkably chirpy, considering…well, you know, exams." Leonard whispers the last word then glances in a clown-like fashion from me to Al and back again.
"Yeah, well last year I didn't have a strategy and I panic-crammed," I reply defensively. "This year, I've got it all under control. Structured eating and maintaining a healthy balance of revision, rest and socialising."
"Structured eating? Does that mean you eat crisps on a schedule these days?" Leonard asks cheekily, dodging my fist and holding up his hand to Al for a high-five, who, to his eternal credit, takes one look at my face and sensibly declines Leonard's palm.
"Not that I owe you any explanation, Lenbot, but no it does not," I growl.
"Come on, Sunny; let's go eat."
"What time should I come around later?" Al asks, just as Judith reaches out to grab my wrist and haul me away.
"About six-ish, if that suits you?"
"Perfect." Al swiftly kisses me on the cheek before departing with Leonard on their artery-blocking mission, whilst I get whisked off in the direction of a much healthier option.
At precisely six o'clock in the evening, Al is waiting for me at St John's Porter's Lodge, as I knew he would be; his timekeeping is exemplary. We share a lingering kiss before entwining our fingers together and strolling through the college courtyard and up the stairs to my room. He slings his bag on my chair and arranges himself comfortably on my bed whilst I disappear for a moment into the kitchen to make a mug of tea for each of us.
"Here you go," I murmur, putting one of the mugs - my favourite one, actually - down on the little table next to Al, and placing mine on my desk.
"Thanks, Sunny." He takes an appreciative sip and reclines back against the wall, as I go to rummage through his bag in search of my new Papermoon notepad which he kindly stashed away earlier.
"Al?"
"Hmm?"
"Why's there an enormous feather and a stick of wood in your bag?" I ask, pulling out both articles and eyeing them curiously.
"Oh crap, forgot that was in there!" Al practically throws himself across the room and snatches the foot-long piece of timber out of my fist.
"Ow!" I yelp, as a sudden bolt of warm pain courses through my hand. "Careful! I think that thing's just given me a fucking splinter! What the bloody Hell is it anyway? And why's it so hot?"
"Sorry," mumbles Al, promptly stowing it away in his jacket pocket. "Must have heated up in my bag for some reason. Just a…ruler. Family heirloom. Mathematical ancestor, you know. Did you find your notebook?"
"A ruler? A family heirloom?" I reply disbelievingly, even though it's such a far-fetched explanation that it must be true; I mean, who could make that shit up? "What a strange thing to inherit! This is really pretty, though."
I lift the beautiful gold-and-black striped feather to the light and tilt it, admiring its pattern. "Looks a bit like a pheasant tail-feather. What an odd thing to have in your school bag!"
"Yeah. It's - err - for luck in the exams. My Mum's - umm - superstitious. Says it wards off evil spirits."
"She'd get on well with my Mum," I mutter, placing the pretty feather carefully back into Al's bag and removing my new notepad. "Mine's exactly the same. Worse, actually. Obsessed by horoscopes and certain numbers, and sometimes blankly refuses to go into shops without any good reason. Can you believe it? A grown woman getting the heebie-jeebies about cafés and such like?"
"That does sound a bit extreme," says Al, with a light laugh, "but sometimes, people have premonitory feelings that they can't quite explain. Maybe your Mum is naturally psychic?"
I stare at him incredulously before erupting into laughter. "Psychic? Psychotic, more like. And I can't believe you're sticking up for my Mum's beliefs over mine when you've not actually met her, you complete traitor! I mean, she has her good points, sure, but please don't tell me you actually place any worth in all that voodoo bollocks, Al?"
A strangely vulnerable expression crosses his face for a fleeting moment and he pauses, as though taken aback by my opinion, before he finds his voice again; his words coming out in a carefully-measured monotone. "Well, not everything in the world can be explained, and sometimes it's easier for m…humans to try and rationalise paranormality by assuming they must have imagined something, rather than face the frightening alternative that they've seen or heard something that challenges their understanding. A lot of behaviour is rooted in fear of the unknown, or wanting to be seen as normal, right?"
"Bloody Hell, Al; I thought you said you were going to struggle with writing an essay on 'woolly' human behaviour," I reply, unwillingly impressed by his response. "Doesn't sound as though you have any difficulty with unscientific, rambling topics whatsoever."
"Well, most human behaviour has a scientific basis, but science itself has its limits and flaws, and there's a lot which it currently cannot explain."
"You're remarkably objective regarding this stuff, which really surprises me; I always thought you were an out-and-out scientist like Yoshi!"
"But I am a scientist at heart! The reason I remain open-minded to all possibilities is that science's boundaries are always expanding. In order for them to do that, there must be all this inexplicable space to expand into; an infinitely vast area of which we know nothing at all."
"I get what you're saying, but it almost doesn't make sense when I consider who I think you are. You know, you're quite an enigma, Albuterol Potter."
"And does it bother you?" Al asks quietly, almost defensively.
"Not in the slightest," I reply instinctively, settling next to him on my bed and reaching out a reassuring hand to caress his cheek. "Your admission - it's simply…unexpected, that's all. I actually think it's great that there's so much about you that's waiting to be uncovered, and in doing so, I'll also learn a little more about myself. Like this ridiculous brand of honesty I'm currently flourishing. I don't think I've ever been this truthful with anyone else."
He exhales and his shoulders relax. "I'm very touched. That's…good to know."
His vivid green eyes meet my dark-earth ones; sincere and defenceless, yet probing and inquisitive, as though he can see right into my soul and wants me to see into his. I wonder if there really is something after all in my Mum's crazy beliefs because this connection - this invisible thread that seems to tether us - completely defies any rational explanation whatsoever. And then I think 'ah, fuck it' and attach my lips to his.
We spend a few hours together, just talking, eating, and laughing about random crap, and finally Al departs to do some more studying, leaving me to my own books and thoughts for the next thirty-six hours, desperately wishing for the exams to be over so he'd never have to go.
It's just gone four o'clock on the morning of the first two papers, and I've been jolted awake by a terrible dream where I overslept and missed the start of one exam, then got progressively later for all the subsequent ones until I had no time left at all to answer the last paper and was given an instant fail and thrown out of medical school.
This is not the first time in recent days I've had a dream about exams. Last night's involved the ink disappearing from my pharmacology paper so none of my answers were visible to the examiner, and in the one before that, I couldn't find the examination hall because someone had stolen it and moved it to France. Then, there was the one where I turned over the paper to find it was all about Tudor history and I'd forgotten that I'd switched degree courses halfway through this year.
Restlessly, I shift about in bed, flipping my pillow over to the cool side, trying to get comfortable enough to switch off and go back to sleep again, but my brain is buzzing with all sorts of improbable scenarios. Within a few minutes, I realise it's pointless; may as well make the most of this time and do something useful, such as some last-minute revision.
By the time my usual wake-up time of seven o'clock rolls around, I'm a nervous wreck. I've made the silly error of looking up an unfamiliar topic and now I've terrified myself with a list of all the things I don't know. And the first exam we're facing is supposedly one of the easier papers too; one hour of multiple choice questions on reproductive anatomy and physiology. This afternoon's offering is definitely going to be a killer, no doubt about it; it's on my nemesis subject of neurobiology.
Seventeen examinations. Three papers on each of the five core modules we've studied this year, plus two papers on 'preparing for patients'. This is not good at all for my welfare. Or my caffeine consumption. I've had four large mugs of tea already and right now, I can't decide whether to spend the remaining pre-exam time pissing it all down the toilet or bouncing off the walls.
I wish Al had stayed last night. I seem to fare better when he's by my side, making me laugh with stupid jokes or wrapping me protectively in his arms, but we sadly decided it probably wasn't conducive to second-year success to spend all our free time together.
Nerves are getting the better of me as I run through a multitude of internal arguments. Should I flick through some notes and start frantically cramming, or would it be better to work off some of this energy by pacing my room like a caged animal? Is it possible to manage both at once? There's a strong temptation to text Al and find out what he's doing right now, but he doesn't need my worry on top of his own. Not that he seems particularly bothered; he's been irritatingly calm and composed about the whole thing, as though none of it really matters to him. He's probably still sound asleep in his lovely big four-poster bed.
If only exams didn't matter so much to me and I was going to Peru next year too. Visions of us hiking along the Inca trail and exploring the Amazon rainforest together flood my mind; sunrise spilling over ancient ruins, colourful macaws swooping overhead, romantic evenings spent around a blazing campfire to a background noise of chirruping grasshoppers. I console myself with the thought that it will probably be nothing of the kind; it'll piss it down ninety percent of the time, the macaws will shit all over us, we'll be ravaged by disease-carrying insects and then we'll starve to death within a month because we forgot to bring matches for the camp-fire. Not that matches will matter when neither of us can cook anything anyway.
And with those lovely thoughts of tragedy in Peru circling my mind, it's time to make my way to the examination hall, a fifteen-minute walk from college or a five-minute bike ride. Despite walking being the slower option and having a pathological hatred of arriving late, I elect not to cycle; my brain is about to enter that terrified, frozen stage where I barely know my own name. I'm bound to do something stupid like fall down a manhole or maim a pedestrian if I put wheels between me and the ground.
Judith and Veronica are already there by the time I turn up. Judith's early arrival isn't that much of a surprise, but Veronica's is; she's never usually early to anything. Yoshi rocks up next, closely followed by Leonard and Saffron, and eventually Al, looking oddly flustered, with Orla in tow.
"What's up?" I whisper, sidling up to him and sliding my fingers through his, completely ignoring Orla and shedding my own anxieties in the process.
"Oh nothing. Just…had a momentary lapse and forgot where the exam hall was," he grins ruefully before wrapping his arms around my shoulders and resting his chin on the top of my head.
"Idiot," I reply affectionately, as the invigilators begin to call us into the building. "How many exams did we sit at the end of first year? And Orla didn't remember either?"
"Nope," he murmurs, still encasing me in his arms as we walk through the hall entrance. "Just one of those things, I guess. There's so much stuff to remember for these exams that my brain must have binned last year's information."
We ditch our bags, find our candidate numbers, then wish each other good luck before entering the cavernous examination hall with its impossibly long rows of desks and seats, to take our allotted places. There's the seemingly endless shuffle of feet and chair legs followed by a brief period where all that can be heard is the tick of the clock at the front of the hall, then the examiner's genial voice suddenly disrupts the silence:
"This exam is Part 1B Reproductive Anatomy and Physiology Paper I, Multiple Choice. If this is not the paper you were expecting to sit this morning, please leave the examination hall immediately." A low rumble of nervous laughter echoes through the hall following this statement, and the examiner waits for the noise to die down before continuing. "The time is five minutes past nine. The exam will conclude at five minutes past ten. You may turn over your papers and begin. Good luck."
In trepidation, I flip over the question paper, my heart hammering so loudly in my chest that I'm sure everyone else in the hall can hear it too. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I recall someone once telling me that if I can't answer the first question immediately, I should just calmly move on to the next, and so on. I try to push all thoughts of disastrous first year Physiology away, and begin to carefully read the first question on the page. It's on meiosis, and without even looking at the choices, I know the answer is Prophase I.
And just like that, my nervous tension begins to ebb quietly away.