Megan Miller ignored the strident ring of the telephone on her desk. It was the sixth time it had rung in the past half hour and she’d managed to ignore all the calls, but it was impossible to ignore the determined knocking on her door.
No time. The final three student assessment tasks were queued on her screen waiting to be marked, and in two hours she had to be at the airport to catch the late afternoon Qantas flight to London.
Whoever it was would have to wait.
The phone stopped and there was blessed silence for a couple of minutes but she knew it was too good to last. Megan rolled her eyes as the knocking on her office door continued.
“Megan!” The voice of Beth McLaren, her teaching colleague and best friend came through the closed door. “Megan, I know you’re in there.”
Sighing, Megan pushed her chair back and stood. It looked like the last bit of marking would have to wait until she got to Glastonbury if there was internet access in the cottage where she was staying. Or maybe she could mark at the airport while she waited to board her flight. The last thing she wanted to worry about when she left on the trip she’d dreamed of for years was marking assessment tasks from students with appalling literacy skills. Her fail rate was too high this semester and she’d already been told she had to pass more students.
Crossing the room, she opened the door just as Beth was about to knock again.
“What the heck have you been doing?” Beth grabbed her arm and pushed her back into her office. Students walking along the corridor of the sociology department shot them curious looks.
“I’ve been trying to ring you for the last half hour, but your mobile goes straight to voicemail. I had to run across from the main administration building to find you.”
“Where’s the fire?” Megan slipped her old cardigan over her shoulders. She’d dressed for comfort on the plane before she’d left home with her luggage this morning and knew she looked more like a student than a lecturer at the prestigious university in Sydney. “Beth, do you know if there is internet in your aunt’s cottage? I haven’t—”
“Megan. For goodness sake, listen to me! The vice chancellor and the board have been waiting”—Beth glanced at her watch— “for over half an hour for you to turn up at the meeting.” She ran her fingers though her short-cropped auburn hair. “You have to get over to the board room now.”
“What meeting?” Megan was mystified. She had no knowledge of any meeting she was expected to attend. Excitement curled in her stomach until she looked down at her bright red jeans and white T-shirt. “Oh, no. I’ve been waiting for weeks to hear about the promotion and of course it had to happen today of all days.” She’d been filling in as senior lecturer for a semester, and the successful permanent appointee was about to be announced.
Beth shook her head. “I don’t think so. His secretary called me. She was looking for you, and then she asked me if I was going to be your support person.”
“Support person? Why a support person?” Megan frowned and her heart rate notched up a beat. “I haven’t got time for this today. I’m flying to London, remember?” If there was one thing that she hated it was being late for anything. Being on time was one of her personal quirks—her mum and dad had always laughed at her adherence to schedules and appointments; it was not a trait inherited from a couple of music-loving hippies.
And that made this day even worse: the tasks weren’t going to get marked by the deadline, she was going to be late getting to the airport, and worst of all, she’d missed some sort of important meeting.
Being late for anything stressed Megan out.
Big time.
“Apparently, you were sent a letter. ‘Cankle Nancy’ was most specific, beneath that holier-than-us attitude she always has. She was positively smirking that you hadn’t turned up.” The ‘Cankle Nancy’ nickname was a private one coined by Beth and Megan who were invariably treated with rude disdain by the VC’s secretary. Ms Robinson suffered from swollen ankles that spilled over her shoes.
“She’s a cow, that’s for sure, but I have no idea what this meeting is for.” Megan hurried across to her desk and picked up the pile of unopened letters that had sat there for the past week. Her marking load had been horrendous while she’d filled in the temporary position and she’d had no time for the daily administration tasks. Even senior lecturers didn’t qualify for secretarial assistance. Anything important—and meeting notices and minutes—usually came through the university email.
“Why couldn’t they have emailed me?” she muttered under her breath when she found a white envelope embossed with ‘Professor Roger Devine, Vice Chancellor, North Shore University’ along the top edge. “That’s how they usually communicate.”
She turned the letter over curiously wondering what it was all about. It looked very official.
“For goodness sake, Megs, open it.” Beth put her hand on Megan’s arm. “They’re all waiting over there, and Nancy said to get you there quick smart.”
Megan ripped it open and scanned the contents and her stomach lurched. “What the—?”
“What? What does it say?”
“Ring Nancy and tell her I’m on my way.” Megan shook off Beth’s hand and strode around to the other side of her desk and reached into her bag. Glancing down at her phone, she flicked it off silent and grimaced as she saw the list of calls she’d missed over the past half hour. She blocked out the sound of Beth’s voice as she pressed hash and nine, the short cut to her brother-in-law’s mobile.
“Please be there, Tony. Please be there.” She closed her eyes as she muttered. A chill had taken hold of her and she used her free hand to pull her cardigan tightly around her chest.
The phone picked up immediately and before her brother-in-law could speak, Megan interrupted.
“Tony, are you on campus?”
“Yes,” he replied. “What’s up? I thought you were leaving—”
Megan cut him off. “I need you as a support person in a meeting. Right now. Meet me at the VC’s boardroom. I’ll explain when you get there.”
“I’m on my way.”
Having a lawyer in the family had been handy when her parents had died last year. As well as dealing with the tragedy, and sorting out the family house, Megan and her sister, Kathy, had to sort out the mess of their estate. Tony, Kathy’s husband, worked part-time at his family’s law firm, but his first love was academia and now he spent most of his time at the university lecturing in his associate professorial position
Beth’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Megan, please tell me. What the hell is going on?”
Megan picked up the letter and was surprised to see the fine paper shaking in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she read the first paragraph to her friend.
“As you have not responded in writing to the allegations made against you, you are required to appear before the disciplinary committee at one pm, Thursday the seventeenth of June, 2011.”
“Disciplinary committee? And what allegations?”
Quickly skimming the rest of the letter, she looked up at Beth and shook her head. “I have no idea. It doesn’t say. And I’ve had no other communication about any allegations, either in a meeting or by email or letter.”
Megan picked up the rest of the unopened mail and discarded the letters one by one as she flicked through them. “Nothing else. That’s all there is.”
Beth grabbed her hand. “Come on, I’ll walk over with you.”
“I can’t go like this.” Megan gestured to her clothes and purple Doc Martens. “I look like a radical student, not a serious sociology lecturer.” She glanced over at her suitcase by the door, all packed and waiting for the taxi she’d booked to take her from the North Shore to Sydney International Airport at two thirty. “I’ve got decent clothes in my luggage. I’ll have to change.”
“Megs, you haven’t got time. You’ll have to come like that. Now, come on.” Beth pulled her across to the door and Megan threw her faded cardigan on the chair before they stepped into the corridor.
Nancy Robinson glared at her over the top of her thick spectacles as Megan walked into the foyer of the board room, flanked by her best friend and her brother-in-law. “You’re very late for the meeting, Miss Miller.” Her voice was cold—but her expression was filled with satisfaction at Megan’s tardiness.
Bitch.
Megan looked at the woman who had always treated her with dislike. Her eyes were protruding, and the large pouchy bags beneath them gave her a permanent hangdog expression. She looked like one of those cartoon characters with the permanent whine.
Biting back the retort hovering on her lips, Megan smiled even though her face felt as though it would crack from the effort. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Robinson. I haven’t had a chance to clear my snail mail,”— she emphasized the word snail— “and as you know this has been a marking week. An email or an internal network message would have found me much more reliably. Perhaps next time you could use that.” She kept her tone even and saccharine-sweet.
The secretary looked at her primly, her thin lips pursed before she spoke. “Some processes are too formal for email, Miss Miller. And I doubt if there will be a next time. Your case is very serious indeed.”
Tony stepped with a brisk nod. “I think you are breaching confidentiality there, Nancy. I don’t believe it is your business—or your place—to comment.”
Miss Robinson coloured brick-red as she glared at them. “I will call the disciplinary committee and advise them of your arrival.” She looked Megan up and down as she picked up the telephone on her desk. The curl of her lip said it all as she took in Megan’s attire.
After speaking into the telephone, she turned to Tony. “Professor Gaines, you and Miss Miller may go in now.”
Beth reached over and hugged Megan. “I’ll wait out here while this mess is sorted out. God knows, whatever it is, it’s the last thing you need after the last six months.”