by Annie Seaton
Come Back to Me
Annie Seaton
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, magazine and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Revised and expanded edition. Copyright © November 2017 by Annie Seaton.
First Edition February 2014 published under the title Hot Rock
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Kate and Dane, our talented children, who both inherited the family music gene.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In memory of David Bowie, who wrote Starman, the song that began my lifelong love affair with his music. His music has given me so much happiness over the years, and inspired this story where Davy Morgan wrote his own songs.
David Bowie R.I.P
1947-2016
“He was an extraordinary man, full of love and life. He will always be with us. For now, it is appropriate to cry.”
Toni Visconti
BBC news
11 January 2016
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Other books by Annie Seaton
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
.
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—”
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.”
Chapter Two
The accident that changed Megan’s life happened on a lazy Sunday afternoon in late spring, 2010. Her parents had been on their way back to Sydney from a deceased estate sale in the lower Blue Mountains.
“Your father’s found a sale with old sheet music and vinyl records going back to the fifties.” Mum had sounded less than enthusiastic when she’d called that morning, but she always kept Dad company on his jaunts to whatever sale was going. “But I think there’s a Christmas artisan market at Faulconbridge today too, so it won’t be too boring.”
“Pick me up some creamed honey if you see some, please, Mum,” Megan had asked.
“I will, love.”
Megan still carried guilt brought on by the last words her mother ever spoke to her. “Dad said there’s something there that you’ll love, that’s why we’re going so far today. Consider it an early Christmas present. We’ll call in for a drink on the way home.”
“Stay for dinner too. Tony’s promised homemade pizzas tonight in the wood fire.” Megan lived in a granny flat underneath Kathy and Tony’s house. “And you know what a gourmet cook he is.” Megan remembered laughing about Kathy’s cooking skills. “Just as well, poor Kath can’t even boil water without setting the smoke alarm off.”
“We’ll be there for sure. See you later.” Mum had said.
But there was no later.
They’d held dinner off until nine o’clock waiting for them to arrive but neither she nor Kathy had been particularly worried. They’d even joked that Dad had treated Mum to a romantic night in the mountains. A niggle of concern had taken root when both of their phones had gone to voicemail when Kathy had called to see if they were still coming for dinner, but they assumed that they were either out of range or more likely had switched them off.
“Stupid technology,” Dad had grumbled. “If I want to talk to someone I’ll call them when I get home. I don’t need a phone on me all day long.”
Megan had gone back downstairs after they’d finished the pizza, and was about to go to bed when Kathy had come running down to her flat.
“Quick, put your television on. Oh, God, Megan. I saw their car. I’m sure it’s theirs.” Her face was white and her voice was shaking.
If it hadn’t been for the original vinyl copy of Davy Morgan’s last album that had been in the boot of Mum and Dad’s car—along with the promised jar of creamed honey Megan doubted if they would have travelled to the sale that day.
No matter how many times Kathy told her she wasn’t to blame, Megan carried the guilt that if it hadn’t been for that album, and her obsession with collecting seventies memorabilia—especially anything to do with Davy Morgan—
her parents wouldn’t have been involved in the accident. An out-of-control petrol tanker had caused carnage on the highway when its brakes failed.
It had been their parents’ distinctive BMW that Kathy had seen on the news. The back from the rear seat was intact, including their shopping spoils from the day. The damage to the front—Megan blocked that sight from her memory—had made it impossible for anyone to survive.
The following few months had been horrendous. As Kathy and Megan tried to pack up the house, and sort their parents’ possessions, Megan was offered a temporary contract as a senior lecturer at the university and her face-to-face lecture hours increased, along with the time spent in lecture preparation and marking. Research was put on the back burner, until she couldn’t leave her doctoral thesis any longer.
Kathy spiralled into depression, and Megan—with Beth’s help—had tried to support her. Not only was she not coping with the traged
y, she and Tony were in the middle of their last attempt at IVF.
Megan did the best she could—although her relationship with her only sibling had always been fraught with arguments. Her own mental health suffered, but she buried herself in work determined not to give in.
“You have to eat.” Beth turned up at her office door every day and dragged her off to the university staff house for lunch. If it hadn’t been for Beth, Megan was sure she would have walked away from the university. Poor Beth had her own problems—she was in the middle of a messy divorce—and as summer faded into a dreary and bleak autumn, Megan wondered if any of them would ever be happy again.
One thing she had decided, she was going to forgo her planned research trip to Glastonbury in the UK summer because she didn’t want to leave Kathy while she was so fragile. She kept putting off booking the tickets, and was about to cancel the leave she’d applied for.
In March, five months after the accident, Megan was marking—as usual. Surely she would finish soon. Davy Morgan’s ‘Come Back to Me’ was playing softly in the background on her computer, and a measure of calm stole over her for the first time in many weeks.
She’d jumped as a knock sounded at her door, and pressed pause on the music program.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me. Kathy.”
Megan widened her eyes as she opened the door. Kathy’s hair was newly cut and she had a touch of lipstick on, and she was wearing a pretty dress, and a long white cardigan.
“Come in.” Megan held the door open and stood back as her sister stepped through. “You look… good,” she said carefully.
Kathy’s smile was wide. “I have something to tell you. Two things, actually.”
“Tell me?” Megan frowned and pulled her old cardigan close around her. The autumn had been cold and she wasn’t looking forward to winter.