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Chapter One

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—”