Page 2 of Deep Blue Lies

ONE

Present Day

“Hey babe, we meeting for lunch today?” Kevin rolls out of bed as he speaks, stretching his arms towards the ceiling, throwing an admiring glance at his biceps.

“What do you mean?” I reply. Surely he hasn’t forgotten?

“Lunch. You know, that meal that people have at…” He sees my face and abandons the sarcasm. “Shit. You’ve got that meeting?”

“Yeah.”

That meeting is with the university’s Academic Review Board, so they can decide whether I take resits in the summer, or if they’re gonna kick me out right now.

“They’re not going to expel you,” Kevin says, his confidence flowing back. “So you failed a few exams? You’re gonna be an awesome doctor, I know it.”

“Yeah, but did you also know that people who fail their exams don’t get to be doctors?” I tell him. “It’s this weird idea they have about knowing what’s wrong with people and keeping them alive.”

Kevin doesn’t answer this. He’s doing Economics and Business Studies, while I’m in my fourth year of a medical degree. And quite possibly my last.

“You’ll be alright.” Kevin pulls on his jeans, but leaves his T-shirt off. He likes to stroll around my house like this, with his abs on display, so my housemates can see them. When we first got together I quite liked this habit, he does have a good six-pack. Now though, it kind of irks me.

“So…lunch?” he asks again.

“I don’t know,” I snap back. “Maybe I’ll see how I feel?”

He raises his hands, like I should calm down, then breaks into a bored smile.

“Cool. I’m gonna take a shower. If you’re making coffee, babe…” He pauses. “Unless you wanna come in?”

I shake my head, and he pads off barefoot down the hallway to the bathroom.

I do make coffee, for Kevin too, but I shower when he’s drinking it. Then afterwards I walk down the hill onto campus. It’s early May, but up here on the northeast coast it’s still cold. It’s always cold. That’s what I associate most about my time at the University of Sunderland. Being cold.

The Medical School is a six-storey building, and my meeting’s on the top floor. I take the stairs, mostly because now I’m here, I want to delay things as much as possible. But that’s never going to be a long-term strategy.

Miss Whitaker, thank you for attending…

There are three people seated in front of me.

My tutor Dr Samson is on the left, he likes us to call him Gavin.

There’s Dr Evans, who is the academic representative.

I don’t think he has a first name anymore.

Then there’s an older woman – I don’t catch her name, but she’s introduced as a Student Support Officer, except she looks about as supportive as a wasp at a picnic.

I try to give each of them a bright smile, to show how much I want this to go well, but then I wait, watching them shuffle their papers.

“The panel has reviewed your performance in the April exams,” – it’s Dr Evans who leads the meeting. – “pathology, anatomy and physiology, and while your grades have improved a little, they still fall below what is required for you to move onto year four of your degree.”

“I know,” I say, biting my lip and launching into my defence.

“The trouble was I ran out of money. I was working all through Christmas, and it just didn’t give me the time I needed to study.

But I won’t work over the summer. I’ve saved enough, so I’ll do better with the resits.

” I’ve prepared this defence in my mind: sympathy, a hard-work ethic.

Owning my mistakes. Even if it’s not necessarily true.

Dr Evans and my tutor share a glance, then he turns back to me. “But you’d still need to be studying your fourth-year material, alongside the resits for year three?”

That is true, and it’s been stressing me quite a bit.

“Yeah, but I can do it. I just need to really focus.”

There’s a silence. Then from the papers in front of him, Dr Evans pulls out something else.

“This wouldn’t be the first time your performance here has raised concerns, would it Miss Whitaker?” He holds up the paper to show me.

“You were emailed a warning in October, and then again in February. Both explicitly stated that a failure to achieve the progression requirements in the April exams would result in your place being at risk. You understand that?”

“Yes.”

Dr Evans furrows his brow, and hums under his breath. I’ve only had him for a few classes but he’s weirdly humourless. I remember one class where I came in late, because it was the morning after Kevin’s birthday. I wonder if he’s remembering it now too.

“Miss Whitaker.” He smiles suddenly, sickly false.

“Medical school is highly demanding, and a certain percentage of students simply find they’re not up to the challenge.

” He pauses, looking me right in the eyes.

“There’s no shame in that. Many people go on to find fulfilling careers outside of medicine. ”

We stare at each other as my brain fills in the implications. Others don’t. Then Gavin breaks in.

“An alternative possibility, Ava, is that you take a break from your studies now, and possibly re-apply at some point in the future.” I turn to him, and see what I guess is supposed to be a helpful smile.

“What do you mean?” I still feel Dr Evans’s eyes burning into me.

“A year, perhaps two? Take some time, find out who you are and what you really want from life.” He smiles like he’s just given me the gift of wisdom. But his face falls when he sees I don’t want it.

“I want to be a doctor,” I tell him.

Gavin’s face crumples. “Look, Ava. We all understand how hard you’ve worked to get here, we really do.

But Dr Evans is quite correct. This is a very challenging environment, and perhaps you’re just not quite ready?

You said you had some money saved? Perhaps you could use that to gain some life experience?

Afterwards you might come back, when you’re more able to dedicate yourself to your studies. ”

I don’t reply.

“You could travel,” Gavin goes on, warming to his theme now.

“A lot of young people take gap years, and they can be hugely beneficial. Do the backpacker route in Thailand, go island-hopping in Greece…” He smiles at the idea, but it jolts with me – does he know I’m half-Greek? I told some people here, but not him…

He’s still talking though, and I tell myself to concentrate. “Of course we can’t guarantee you’ll be re-admitted, but you’ve passed years one and two, so the admission panel may look favourably on you, particularly if it seems you’ve…matured in the intervening time.”

I look back at Dr Evans, who seems bored now with the proceedings. He even glances at his watch, like I’m keeping him from lunch.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really understand exactly what’s happening here,” I say, even though I think I do. It’s Gavin who replies, hesitantly.

“Ava. The panel is strongly recommending that you voluntarily step back from the course. I think that’s where we’re at.” He smiles again, as if he’s offering me a holiday. All expenses paid.

“Miss Whitaker,” Dr Evans cuts in. “What Dr Samson is saying is that the panel is prepared to frame this as you deciding to step away. But if you choose not to, we will fail you. And that will be the end of your career in medicine. Is that clear enough for you?”

Maybe I was wrong about the expenses.

I swallow. I think somehow I didn’t really believe it was going to come to this. Even though I’ve seen others leave, because they didn’t get through the exams, or couldn’t find the money. I thought somehow I’d be different. But apparently not.

“My mum’s gonna kill me,” I mutter, not meaning anyone to hear me, but Dr Evans does.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. Trying to think. “Do I have to…decide this right now?”

Again Gavin and Dr Evans glance at each other. The Student Support Officer gives me a sympathetic smile, apparently the full extent of the support I’m getting.

“It would certainly be helpful if you could give an answer now.” Again it’s Gavin who answers, still playing good cop.

Dr Evans tuts and checks his watch again.

Gavin explains. “The panel is only meeting this morning, and it’s only your case that we’re considering.

I suppose we could…” – he looks to Dr Evans hopefully – “An hour?” Then he turns back to me, his smile brighter now that he’s won me this victory.

“If you could let me know within the hour, we can get this wrapped up? ”

I try to think, to make sense of things.

Is this really happening? My mum is going to go crazy.

She’s helped me so much to get here. She’s supported me, she’s been so proud that I’m going to be a doctor…

and now I’ve totally let her down. I start to feel a hollowness inside me, that I know is going to get so much worse.

“Well, I think we’re done here.” Dr Evans claps his hands together, happy with his morning’s work. The Student Support Officer offers another supportive look.

After I leave, I see the noticeboard where the exams results get pinned. My embarrassing failure still on display for all to see. I don’t look and go back to the stairwell, hoping I won’t run into anyone I know.

My steps ring out as I work my way down. I’m not really thinking yet, just aware of the light from the windows, bright and cold. The clouds outside scudding by on a stiff north breeze, just like they were before I went in. Yet everything else has changed.

That’s when it really hits me. That this is actually over. I’ve worked so hard, for so long to get here, and now it’s done. I’m not going to be a doctor. I failed.

As I push my way outside my mobile buzzes in my pocket. It’s a message from Kevin.

Lunch, Babe?

I stare at the screen a second before stepping out into the cold.