Inheritance

Chapter Forty-two. The Acceptance Letter

Chapter Forty-two

The Acceptance Letter

John, his mind in turmoil, sweat beading his brow, couldn't sleep. The bed to his left, faintly illuminated by moonlight filtering through the grimy skylight, was empty. Norman had quit school, claiming that he preferred fornication to education. Right now, he was probably enjoying the charms of his obliging girlfriend. Dave, that self-confident son of a gun was rumbling away like a finely tuned Norton in the other bed. How could he be so relaxed with their first exam less than eight hours away?

Desperate for sleep, John pulled the bedclothes over his head, hoping that the build-up of carbon dioxide would knock him out. It didn't work. Sweat continued to pour and his mind switched into overdrive. What were the differences between ortho and para hydrogen? Would Group Theory be on the exam? There was so much he didn't know. He was heading for disaster. Dawn was breaking when he finally fell into a fitful doze.

He awoke, what seemed moments later, to the familiar smell of the Monday morning fry-up. His stomach involuntarily contracted and forced its foul tasting contents into his mouth. John scrambled out of bed, and almost fell headlong down the stairs in his haste to reach the bathroom. He couldn't open the door. Dave was inside whistling some cheerful tune.

"Let me in. Let me in, Dave," John yelled, pounding on the door.

"Bloody Hell! You look awful."

John didn't care how he looked as he knelt before the toilet bowl and vomited a stream of almost pure hydrochloric acid.

"Are you alright mate? Should I get Mrs. Billings to call for a doctor?"

John shook his head as he spat out the last vestiges of vomit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'll be fine soon. I'm sure it's just nerves. Could you let me use the loo?"

"Sure," Dave said. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Better wipe off that shaving cream and cover up that magnificent torso of yours before Mrs. Billings has a fainting fit," said John, surprising himself with a chuckle.

"Now you're sounding better. Should I tell Mrs.B. that you'll be down for breakfast?"

"I suppose I'd better try and eat something. Maybe a poached egg."

"No sausage? No fried bread?"

"You must be joking," said John, hurling a wet towel at Dave's retreating head.

The dose of milk of magnesia served with breakfast worked wonders. John felt more like himself as he and Dave made final preparations for the ordeal ahead.

When they stepped outside, they found the short path leading from the front door to the pavement blocked by a burly bearded postman.

"Only one piece of mail today. It's not for one of the Billings. Must be for one of you two. Which of you is Mr. Gregson?"

"That's me," said John.

"Here tha is lad. Not often I get to deliver a Yankee airmail."

John gulped. It must be from Rice. He snatched the envelope from the postman's hand. It was. He recognised the owl logo. "Thanks very much. I've been waiting days for this."

"You're welcome, lad," the postman replied as he turned away. "Have a good day."

"You too."

"So John Gregson, what's the big secret? Have you been writing to some hot dish in Texas without telling me?"

John laughed. "Nothing like that."

"Well spill the beans. You can fill me in as we walk to the bus stand."

"Hang on there, Dave. I really have to read this letter now. Do we have time?"

Dave glanced at his watch. "No problem."

John's hands were shaking as he ripped open the envelope and removed the torn single sheet of paper.

Department of Chemistry                                                                           

Rice University                                                                                                  

Houston                                                                                                                  

Texas 77007                                                                                                           

U.S.A.                                                                                                                         

May 10th 1962

Dear Mr. Gregson,

Re: Graduate School Admissions.

I am pleased to inform you that we do accept British students into our graduate program. To gain admission we require that you obtain a good honours degree - a minimum of an upper second is required.

In your letter of enquiry, you specifically asked about the possibility of working under Professor Lewis. He has informed me that he intends to expand his research group and is looking for highly qualified candidates, such as you.

Thanks for showing such interest in Rice. Good luck in your upcoming exams. Hopefully, we will be able to welcome you to our department in September.

Yours Sincerely

John.L. Margrave (Chairman)

"I'm in. I'm in." John couldn't suppress his glee.

"What do you mean you're in?"

"Here, read this on our way to the bus," said John, handing Dave the letter.

Dave quickly scanned it, eyebrows raised. "How come you never told me about this?"

"I never thought anything would come of it. I was fully expecting a refusal and I suppose I wanted to keep my disappointment a secret. You're not mad are you? "

"Nah! I think it's great. Now you've really got something to aim for."

"Do you think I have a chance?"

"A chance of what?"

"An upper second."

"For sure- especially if they take into account your practical work. Your lab technique has been great."

"Not last week. I fouled up that micro part again. I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with my eyes. Maybe I'll see a doc after the exams. Also my theoretical is crap."

"Not that bad. You're doing better than most of the guys in our group. Besides there are choices on the exams. Just pick something you know and stop worrying about it. Oh, bugger! Here comes the bus. We'll have to run."

The bus, filled to capacity, didn't stop. John's stomach tightened, his pulse quickened. "Oh my God, Dave, we're going to be late."

"Gee, John. You're such a neurotic. There's a bus every five minutes during rush hour and we could get there in plenty of time even if we walked."

"Let's do that then."

"Do what?"

"Walk. It'll put my mind at ease."

"If you insist."