Inheritance

Chapter Forty-three. Finals.

Chapter Forty-three 

Finals 

Entering the gym foyer,John spotted a familiar crewcut towering above the throng that was pressing against one of the three double doors leading into the exam room. Using skills mastered on the terraces of Hillsborough, John muscled his way to Eric's side. 

"How yer doing?" John asked, grasping his friend's shoulder from behind. 

"Bloody awful actually. I really don't know why I've bothered to come. It's going to be a waste of everybody's time." 

Maybe Dave was right. He was in much better shape than Eric ,and maybe many  more of his classmates. 

"Come on, Eric. It can't be that bad." 

"Too many rugby parties I'm afraid. Where are you sitting?" 

"C-thirteen." 

"Then you'll be able to gloat." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're sitting right behind me." 

The doors to the cavernous gym swung open, revealing row upon row of ancient desks marked with the doodlings of former students. John's newly gained confidence evaporated as he walked across the huge tarpaulin protecting the floor to his pre-assigned desk. As he stood awaiting further instructions, his eyes fell on the brown envelope. A wave of nausea broke over him. 

John tore open the envelope with sweaty hands and slid out an innocuous looking white sheet. He rapidly scanned the paper. Could he answer six questions out of the ten? Four of the questions were just as anticipated by his study group. Another was on coordination chemistry, a topic he'd worked on with Dave. One other looked possible. The butterflies settled. John switched in to the exam-writing mode honed over ten years of competitive exams and the three hours flew by. Finally, he got up, feeling reasonably confident and headed for the student union. Stuffed sheep's heart was on the menu. It was his lucky day. 

The next day's exam was on Physical Chemistry, John's area of expertise. At first glance only three of the ten questions seemed answerable. He was in deep trouble. Furtively he glanced round the room and sighted several students giving choke signs and thumb down signals. At least he wasn't alone. He glanced across at Dave, seated in row A. He was already writing furiously -  obviously in control.  

Damn! Degrees were awarded on a competitive basis and Dave was streets ahead of him.  

Wednesday was the day for Special Topics in Physical Chemistry, a day when John really appreciated Professor Lawrence's advice. He was able to attempt the five mandatory questions and felt he answered four of them well. The questions based on Quantum Mechanics could have been written in Swahili, as far as he was concerned. In the lunch queue, he learned that most of the students who had been so misguided as to specialise in Quant were of the same opinion.  

After collecting his meal, John joined Dave at their favourite table. "How was it ,Dave? Any problems?" 

"No, I was spoiled for choice." 

He could be so infuriating 

John shoved a forkful of chips into his mouth and ruminated over the fact that he'd aced four questions- a vast improvement over the previous day's disaster. 

"By the way John, I won't be coming to study group this afternoon," said Dave as he finished off his humungous double order of fish and chips. 

"Why on earth not? It's our last one."