Fully English

CHAPTER 36

I wake up early the next morning to find a few missed calls from Damon and George. I flick through my phone to see if either have left messages but they haven't. Instead of calling back, I run myself a shower and relish the night before. The scent of roses from the romantic bath I'd run for Reece and I still permeated the air. It was still dark outside and though I was exhausted, I felt more remarkably alive than I had in ages.

By the time the sun has set I am already washed and clothed, lounging watching the morning news in sweats and a bowl of porridge in my hands. The door to the bedroom creaks open and out comes Reece in a pair of boxers and bleary-eyed. I can tell he is surprised to see me all woken up and refreshed because he halts at the doorway and rubs his eyes for clarity.

"You're awake?"

"Early body clock," I shoot from the couch and move over to the kettle. "Do you want a cup of tea? Coffee? Lemon water?"

He thinks about it for a second. "I'll take a black coffee, no sugar."

"So stiff," I wince.

"Some of us have work to do."

"Still?"

Two separate flashbacks careen into my mind at this point: the first being Prudence and the way she reacted when I said Reece had been working hard in the library for quite the while. Her expression was disbelieving but guarded, as though she knew something that I didn't but didn't want to burst my bubble. The second is Hamid's anxious face in the library, his adamant tone of voice and the things he said to me: the fact that Reece rubbed him the wrong way and how he tried to foster distrust in my heart for him. Suspicion floods my mind like a dam as I pour the boiling water from the kettle into his favourite mug.

"Well not work," he corrects himself quickly. "I just need to tie up a few loose ends, some meetings."

The time reads 6am and I know instinctively that this meeting isn't with other students but rather university authorities. There was no way a bunch of undergraduates would consent to a meeting in the early hours during study leave.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." I hand him his mug and watch him slurp it down in a few chugs. "I'll probably need another just before I leave."

I smile and watch him disappear into the bathroom. When I hear the lock click in the door, I take this opportunity to investigate what he is up to by going through his laptop. Fortunately, when I press power, the last website he visited pops up so there is no need to guess his password. Immediately, I go through his calendar to see if he has flagged any specific dates and find only past exams and assessment deadlines.

I leave the laptop to sleep and look for his planner diary to see if he has written anything down since his phone is in the bathroom with him. The royal blue leather bound book is tucked in the space between his wardrobe and bin and I pluck it out, whiz through the pages and stop at the present. In his neat, joined up writing I see a note to self:

7:30am: Urgent meeting with head of School in 0.79 Roundtree Hall

This is what he is rushing to. I close the book, tuck it back where I found it and scrawl through his email to find correspondence with his adviser. The messages they have been exchanging are quick and snappy but all too telling of my worst fears. Reece is failing his degree.

There are messages about missed seminars, tutorials and lectures – late hand-ins for assessments and uncharacteristic low marks on his work. Every message is more daunting than the last and then there is a final one, emblazoned with a red exclamation mark in the top hand corner, scheduling this meeting as the final salvation.