‘Come on Mum, it’s not that special. Lots of people go to uni.’
‘Not in our family they don’t. You’re a real pioneer Issie.’
Isabelle couldn’t help but smile at that comment. She was a bit of a pioneer, wasn’t she? And the way she figured it, if she expanded her social circle a bit further to include some law or medical students she might just meet someone special and there was her future taken care of.
So much for Nick’s dire prediction about her not amounting to anything.
Ah, yes, she was really on her way now.
Fortified by a large coffee from her beloved De’Longhi, Isabelle gathered her things together and bundled up in her parka before heading out the door. Winter was definitely biting now and she was really looking forward to the arrival of spring.
Locking her door behind her she checked her watch and realised she would have to walk briskly. Despite living so close to campus she still managed to run late most mornings. Not that it really mattered she supposed, but it was something she needed to work on. Then again the icy snow was still thick on the ground so it was just as well she had to walk fast.
Learning to dress in layers and discovering the necessity of a beanie, gloves and a scarf were just a few new life experiences Isabelle was coming to terms with. She walked in the middle of the road because it was the driest part and also simply because she could. Cars were not common in these parts and their approach could be heard far away in the crisp, unpolluted air.
Half an hour later Isabelle sat in a classroom, where she was, in fact, an officially enrolled student with an authentic student ID card. Yes, it was a remote, regional campus of the University of Western Tasmania with an enrolment of 75, housed in an old high school. Isabelle was enrolled in an Ecology degree, a subject in which, admittedly, she had zero interest. The university campus had no proper library and students had to email requests to the main campus with an average waiting time of five days. And yes, it did snow there regularly and the buildings were not centrally heated.
Isabelle had soon learned how the description of a ‘cosy’ atmosphere, small class sizes and a World Heritage location teeming with wildlife had lured her fellow nature-loving students there, whereas she was there with the sole intention of getting a foot in the door.
It had taken some doing.
While her friends at UQ enjoyed their mid-year holidays Isabelle phoned the admissions office of possibly every tertiary institution in Australia that offered a mid-year intake and was prepared to overlook her tragic OP score. Unsurprisingly, most had passed on the opportunity to welcome her into their student body, but finally good old Western Tassie had come to the rescue. They were nearly as desperate as she was, given that their funding would cease if they couldn’t fill their enrolments. Isabelle wasn’t sure who was more excited when her application was accepted, them or her.
She didn’t plan to stay long term – two semesters should be enough to boost her academic record to an acceptable level. Her aim was to go back to UQ as a real student and earn a degree the normal way.
But UWT had some definite advantages. The cost of living was really cheap and the small class sizes meant that Isabelle got all the help she needed to improve her academic standing. Her nest egg was well invested and she even had a job in the aptly named End of the World Cafe. Things had actually turned out better than she could have imagined.
Reading the paper that night, she came across the story of a woman in Melbourne who had faked not only her enrolment in a law degree, but had also earnt herself a job on the strength of her bogus qualifications. Fortunately her ruse had fallen apart quite spectacularly when she took on her first court case. It had soon become apparent that her knowledge of a courtroom had been gleaned from reading legal thrillers and the judge was forced to declare a mistrial. And now she was looking down the barrel of a jail term for fraud. Not to mention a vicious social media hate campaign from her disgruntled client.
Wow, at least I wasn’t that bad, thought Isabella self-righteously.
Looking up at her newspaper article again Isabelle shuddered. Yes, it did showcase what she had gotten away with but it was also a reminder of her own dishonesty and a warning to never sink that low again.
Isabelle liked to think that she would have eventually decided to abandon her charade, that the reality of being unable to attend a graduation ceremony and the expectation she might be qualified to do something other than entry level jobs might have hit home.
In truth though it was the article that had forced her hand. The message from the UQ admissions office had come via The Courier Mail. Wanting to profile Isabelle on the university website they had been unable to locate her on their records and were very keen to speak to her. They were assuming it was a spelling error or that she may have enrolled under a different name but it had been enough to give Isabelle the fright of her life.
Hastily changing her home and mobile phone numbers had given her some breathing space but the thought that people were trying to track her down and that she might be exposed had scared her enough to take a good look at the person she had become.
Yes, Isabelle decided as she set the coffee machine before heading off to bed, she was ashamed of what she had done but she was not totally sorry it had happened. Her experience as a pseudo student had helped her realise that life goals were worth working towards in an honest fashion and also that she did want to make something of her life.
By some stroke of luck she had escaped from the whole situation unscathed and she had the opportunity to make things right.
Surely that wasn’t such a bad thing?
About The Author
Helen McKenna lives on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Queensland and has worked in banking, local government and learning support and currently works as a biographer and swimming teacher.
Room 46 is her second novel.
Also by Helen McKenna:
The Beach House
You Can Write Your Life Story
Contact:
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.helenmckenna.com.au
Facebook: www.facebook.com/HelenMcKenna.Author
Twitter: www.twitter.com/helenmckenna_
Room 46 & Short Story Collection Page 25