A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter took so long; it fills rather fillery, so that might be why. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Very special thanks to SwingingOnAStar, Martina, Guest, Blackveinedalpha, Mad Hatter Massacre, Charlie L.E. Scarwood, cjennxx, zazanga, Guest, theVintageAssassins, Guest, FeeKee, Turtle Kid the Woolgatherer, Southern Cooken, DSS, Guest, LadyMaluHolmes, QueenQueenie, Guest, ChaoticLogic, Amehhh, Guest, Faye, Guest, DreamStar18, pamelawright, and Guest for your reviews. :D
The Curious Misunderstanding
Chapter Seven
/
Despite my efforts, I wasn't able to get either Jim or Sebastian on the phone. I tried the number on Jim's card twice, once the next day after my visit with Mrs. Penslivy, and the second a day later. But both times the line rang busy, and while I anxiously waited with one eye on my mobile for a return call, it never came. I held back my deep disappointment by reminding myself that Jim was a businessman, and after being pushed out a window and laid up for weeks recovering, he was probably busy catching up with everything, and Sebastian was tailing right after him doing whatever it was he did to help Jim through the process.
As it turned out, however, I soon became too distracted to give it more thought than I could afford at that time. I threw myself into my work with a new dedication to my project, inspired by the initial news of the malware and Nigel's reports in the days following that there was little chance of recovering any of that information, much to his - and the rest of the university's - chagrin. But I took it as a sign of good will and faith that the second chance with my project would be a fortuitous one, so on a regular basis I schlepped my laptop and my manuscript to a spare room in one of Dad's offices, where I was able to focus on my work, but also with enough hustle for suitable background noise, which eliminated the need for my earbuds.
All in all, it was turning out to be a rather busy time, but since I wasn't hearing back from Jim and wasn't sure when I would again, I welcomed the distraction. This didn't stop me, however, from bringing my mobile with me and setting it on the desktop, in plain view, in case I should happen to get a return phone call.
Or any phone call, as I soon discovered.
"So they've really no idea when they might recover all that data?"
"No," I said, peering out the doorway of the office to watch everyone work at their computers. At the other end of the room, the door to Dad's office was closed and there were several people in there with him all talking very animatedly. "It's been a right honourable fuck-up, this whole thing. I think Nigel might be ready to quit after all this."
"And no one would blame him," she said, sighing heavily for Nigel's sake. "Honestly, what an ordeal...nothing like this would've happened when we were at university."
"Right," I said. "During the paper age, yes? Nigel's already given me this speech."
I could hear her talking distractedly to the baby and it made me smile. "Well, if you think of it, be sure to give Nigel my best. It sounds like he needs it."
"I will, Mum," I said, turning to go back to the desk. "What's the word from the beach?"
"Well," she sighed a little. "Tourist season will be starting soon, so that's got Robert a little bit anxious. But Trevor's looking forward to it for sure, he's looking forward to having his mates up from London for a weekend or so," she then paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Y'know, perhaps you'd like to come up when your defense is over? Come for a nice long visit. We'd all love to see you."
That sounded heavenly, especially because I still felt bad about not visiting in December, since it didn't feel right to leave Dad all by himself for Christmas. "That would be nice, actually," I said, suddenly preoccupied with thoughts of lying on the beach in the sun and doing nothing but staring at the water. "Will it be all right for swimming, d'you think?"
"If it doesn't rain," she said absently, and I could hear the baby fussing on the other end of the line. "Look, I've got to run, darling. But I'll talk to you again soon, okay?"
"Okay Mum," I said. "Say hello to everyone for me."
"I will," she said. "Goodbye darling."
I ended the call feeling slightly disappointed that she didn't think to ask after Dad and how he was. Then again she never mentioned him whenever we spoke on the phone. It used to make me very angry when I was younger, but as I got a little older I couldn't blame her too much. She had a new family and a new life, she had her preoccupations the way Dad had his. For all I knew, they hadn't spoken to each other since the divorce seven years previous.
Leaning against the doorway, I looked towards Dad's office once more, but the door was still closed. The meeting was still going on at full speed. I looked to my mobile to check the time and was surprised to see a notification for a missed call and a voicemail waiting for me. Going back to the desk, I opened the voicemail message and listened.
"Nola, Nigel here," came Nigel's stately voice on the message. "I just wanted to remind you that our meeting with the dean is this afternoon at 3:30pm. Please for the love of god do not be late or it will be both our arses. Seriously, after this whole thing, the dean can't take much more. See you later."
You'd think Nigel'd have a little more faith in me. But then again I'd already deeply disappointed him once before.
Casting a glance at the clock and seeing it was nearing 10:40am, I knew that Dad would insist on getting out of the office at lunchtime, so I took the opportunity to sock in and work away, rereading and making edits and scrambling for my many different coloured highlights to colour-code my notes.
Some time later, I suppose I felt annoyance or surprise or a combination of the two when my mobile rang a third time, and engrossed in the page I was editing, I simply picked it up and answered without checking the ID. "Hello?"
"Hullo."
My heart seized inside my chest, the way it was so fond of doing now when I heard the slightest of a Dublin accent, didn't matter where I was or who the voice belonged to. I put my pen down and desperately hoped he wouldn't hear my massive smile through the phone. "Hello."
"I saw something very interesting in the paper this morning," he said, his tone light and playful, as though he knew it must have been excellent news for me. "Something about a malware attack at your university?"
I cradled the mobile against my ear and hugged myself with my other arm, keeping my smile directed down towards the table so anyone who happened to walk past wouldn't be able to see.
"It isn't interesting," I said coyly. "A lot of the university's data seems to be gone, it's a complete and utter mess. My professor is very unhappy about it."
"Hmm," he mused, and I could feel the blush burst in the apples of my cheeks. "That does sound like a mess. What does that mean for your work?"
I picked up my pen and tapped it on the pages of my book to distract myself, keep myself from downright giggling. "As a matter of fact, I've been informed that the results of my failed defence are near non-existent."
"Really?" I heard him shift on the other end. I imagined he was sitting prim and proper in his brightly-lit, expensive-looking office, having stolen a moment to ring me up after seeing the story in the post over a mid-morning coffee. "Now I'm afraid I'm not as well verse in graduate defences as I should be," he said, which made me laugh a little. "But I'm going to hazard a guess that it's a good thing?"
"A very good thing," I said. "It means that it'll be taken off my record and the results of my second defence will only suffer a penalty."
He was quiet on the other end. In my mind's eye, I could see him at his desk in his lavish office listening to me on the phone while a small, very sweet smile splayed itself across his pink lips.
"Well," he said after awhile. "That does sound like a very good thing indeed. In fact, I think it warrants a celebration."
I closed my eyes. I could have listened to him talk to me on the phone all damn day. "Not necessarily, celebrations are for accomplishments."
"I'm inclined to disagree, but I see your point," he said, sounding a bit more formal, as though he was speaking with a client. "We'll call it good fortune, then. We can celebrate good fortune."
"I don't know," I said, biting onto my lower lip. "You'd think if I had good fortune, I would have passed my defence the first time and we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
There was a pause on the other end, but I could practically feel his smile. "You're being unusually cheeky today, Miss. Nola," he said playfully, and I could have died right then and there in that chair. "Here I was going to take you out for a lovely meal, but if you're really so opposed, I will just have to cry myself to sleep tonight."
I laughed because in my mind's eye I could see the exact look he had on his face right at that moment, a mock pout, making his black eyes as big and innocent as possible. "Where exactly did you have in mind?"
"Just a little place I know," he said, his voice dropping, sounding quite a bit more sensuous over the phone. I leaned over the desk until I was almost lying down on it, just relishing in the sound of his voice in my ear. "I'll have Sebastian pick you up. How's tomorrow at 7:00?"
My cheeks began to ache. "Sounds wonderful."
"Perfect," he said. "I should warn you, though, there is a dress code," he said, his tone once more becoming light and fluttering. "You might want to wear something scandalous."
"Scandalous it is," I said, trying to sound flirtatious, and just as I had said it, Dad appeared in the doorway with his coat in one arm, looking exasperated. I sat up and smiled at him in acknowledgement, and then I cleared my throat. "But that sounds good. I'll see you then," I said, adopting a more business-like tone in front of Dad.
"I can't wait," Jim purred in my ear, making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and then he hung up.
I looked down at my screen and canceled the call, smiling just to myself before ducking beneath the desk to pick up my purse.
"Who was that then?" Dad asked as I closed the door behind me.
"Just Nigel," I lied as I followed him out of the office. "We have our meeting with the dean this afternoon."
"Oh, of course," he said.
I followed him out of the office and down onto the street, and as he regaled me of the exhausting meetings he'd been in all morning, I had to be vigilant about keeping down my smile and not skipping along beside him with glee. But the prospect of going on an official dinner date with Jim was almost too much to bear.
/
That afternoon, as per Nigel's instruction, I hurried to the university and met him at his office for 3:00, nice and early. But we didn't have much time to talk before we hurried to see the Dean Schwartz, who I'd never met, but was a very posh man with a lavish office who incidentally looked as though he had aged 50 years in the last week or so.
"Hello Nigel," he said, standing from his seat to shake Nigel's hand, and then his small blue eyes turned to me and he smiled as he shook my hand. "You must be Nola Kross."
"Nice to meet you, Dean Schwartz," I said respectfully.
"Have a seat, please," he said, and we sat down. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, Miss. Kross," he said, steepling his fingers together and setting them down on the desk in front of him. "But I do believe Nigel mentioned you're related to the Right Honourable Mark Kross?"
I smiled rather half-lipped. Nigel seemed to take a lot of pleasure in spreading that fact around. "Yes sir," I said. "He's my Dad."
"Ah, splendid," he said, sitting back in his chair and grinning. "The university is always delighted to host the children of notable figures, especially a figure as capable as Minister Kross."
All I could do was smile and nod and pretend as though he wasn't fishing around for a donation, something I'd become more used to than I thought I would.
"Anyway," he said, realizing that it wasn't entirely appropriate. "To the matter at hand, yes? Just so you're both aware, this interview will be recorded for official purposes. I assume you're both all right with that?"
I nodded. "I am."
"All right," Dean Schwartz put on the glasses dangling around his neck and looked down at a file he had sitting on his desktop. He opened it and skimmed the documents within before clearing his throat and looking at me. "Well Miss. Kross, let me say first hand that we are meeting today to officially discuss the outcome of both your recent academic performances and the … rather unfortunate circumstances the university has found itself in over the past few days."
I watched him attentively and tried to hide my swallow of nervousness. Whatever came from his lips was going on my record, that was that, and my heart started to beat uncomfortably fast.
"Now as I'm sure Nigel has informed you," Dean Schwartz said, reading over the files. "The malware attack on the university's system has resulted in a complete erasure of data from the middle of winter semester into the spring. We've done what we can, and we're still trying to retrieve that data, but at this time, our experts are not as hopeful as we would like."
I nodded, listening carefully, unaware that my hands were gripping the armrests.
"Now normally in such a case," he continued. "We would rely on our data backed up in the server, but that has been compromised as well, and not all members of your committee are available to submit their previous comments and grades. I do believe Dr. Zamora is in Tibet, as it happens," he sighed heavily and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, and I bit down on my lower lip, anxious to hear what his final thoughts were once and for all. "As we've never been placed in this situation before, we will be offering you, as well as all other graduate students who's defenses were affected by the attack, a second chance at defense with a marked penalty."
I let out the exalted breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding in. By my side, I could sense Nigel looking at me and smiling.
Dean Schwartz gave me an amused smile. "I'm sure it sounds wonderful to you, Miss. Kross. You don't have to worry about the rest of the university's data."
I bowed my head a little. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Not at all," he said, waving a hand at me. "You're not the first student relieved by our decision."
As Dean Schwartz continued to leaf through the file in front of him, I deflated in my chair. I was absolutely overcome with relief. I felt as though I had been told I was free to go to sleep for as long as I needed, not to worry about a single thing. Not the bills for my flat, not school, not food or drink, not anything, and only wake up when I was completely rested.
"Now before we conclude this interview," Dean Schwartz continued after loudly clearing his throat. "There are a few questions I'll need you to answer. These are questions from our investigators. Don't be alarmed, we're asking them of all students affected."
"Of course," I said.
"One thing our investigators have pointed out," he continued as he picked up his fountain pen and peered down at a sheet in front of him. "Is that this was an obviously targeted attack on the university, for reasons we're unsure of, so we have to take necessary steps to rule out some things."
"You think students were involved?" I asked before I could swallow it down.
He looked up at me over his glasses and gave me half a smile. "Such a criminal act is not something we expect from our students, Ms. Kross. But stranger things have happened," he looked down at the sheet he was observing in front of him, and I could see these were the items of information the investigators wanted to know. "Now then, when were you first made aware of the malware attack?"
I looked over at Nigel beside me. "A few days ago. Nigel told me."
"Was this over the phone or in person?"
"In person," I said, glancing at Nigel once more. "In his office."
"All right," he said, quickly scribbling down a note. "Now at the time we failed to implore our students and staff to practice discretion about the attack. I assume you told some people of the incident?"
"I did," I said, fidgeting in my seat, suddenly feeling rather sheepish that I had so openly expressed my glee of the incident with some people.
"Who did you discuss it with?" He asked, still peering down at his list of questions.
"My parents," I said, and watched as he nodded, as though that was to be expected. "My landlady. And a friend or two."
"What's your landlady's full name?"
"Susanne Penslivy," I said, leaning forward in my seat. "P-E-N-S-L-I-V-Y."
I watched him write it down fluidly with his fountain pen. "Very good," he said. "And your friends?"
I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it, feeling the frown take over my face. "You need their full names, sir?"
Dean Schwartz looked up at me and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Yes, Ms. Kross."
I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat. "There's Claire Dawning, that's D-A-W-N-I-N-G, she's in Reading."
I'd barely mentioned it to Claire in one of our rare telephone calls. She was hardly interested. I was careful to keep the matter of my schooling mostly to myself.
He wrote down her name. "All right. Anyone else?"
In the back of my head was a voice screaming Jim, and in my mind's eye I could see the handsome devil, winking at me with his big black eyes. I thought about how we had talked about it briefly that morning, how he would likely ask more about it on our date the next day.
Dean Schwartz peered up at me. "Ms. Kross?"
I had to put forth his name, but I hesitated, thinking about what he had said, about having enemies everywhere. "And Jim. A friend of mine, Jim."
"Jim," he repeated, writing it down, and just hearing his name made my cheeks tingle. "And Jim's surname?"
"I'm afraid I don't know it, sir," I lied, swallowing down his last name past my beating heart. It wouldn't do to have his name circulating about for the off chance to be overheard by the same people that were looking for him, looking to hurt him. "He's a relatively new friend."
"Hmm," Dean Schwartz mused, though he did not seem overly enthused. "Well, I suppose if the investigators need it, we will contact you for that information at a later date."
I nodded, relieved that Jim was protected. "Yes sir."
"Have you been in contact with other students about the malware attack?" He continued, and then glanced up at me. "Or, for some reason, with the members of your committee?"
I smiled a little. I was nowhere near that brave. "No sir."
"All right," he said, writing. "Now with regards to the system itself, you haven't given your student identification number or access code to anyone, have you?"
I shook my head. "No sir."
"Have you left your laptop or mobile in a space where either of those pieces of information might be apprehended?"
I thought about it; I had left my laptop at Dad's office when we had gone out on breaks for lunch and for a coffee and such, but it seemed very unlikely that anyone in the office would come along and snoop through my computer.
"I have spent some time working at my Dad's office," I said, feeling it was better to mention it just in case. "I've brought my laptop in to do some there. I suppose it's possible someone saw."
Dean Schwartz made a strange face, as though he didn't want to take to the investigators the possibility that the malware attack originated from within the offices of a cabinet minister. Nevertheless, he wrote it down. "Well, I'll make note of it, Ms. Kross," he said, and gave me a smile. "I do believe it would be a long shot, but it's good to have it recorded."
I nodded, and watched him write. I stole a glance at my watch: 4:02pm, and wondered how much longer the interview was going to take.
"Now," he continued. "Have you used your laptop or mobile to access your student centre on WiFi networks you don't recognize or that were not secure?"
I shook my head. "No sir. I've used my own WiFi, and the WiFi at my Dad's office, but no others that I can think of."
He continued to write, and then he sat back in his seat and surveyed the answers that he had written with the sheet that the investigators had likely given him. He nodded, as though he was satisfied, and set down his pen. "All right, well I do believe that's all the information I require at this time, Ms. Kross," he said, and smiled. "If the investigators have any further questions, surely you'll hear from Nigel or myself and we'll arrange to meet at another time."
I smiled and nodded, relieved that it was over. "Sounds good," I said.
We all stood up, shook hands, and offered our roundabout goodbyes before Nigel and I stepped outside the dean's office. Nigel pulled the door closed behind him, but kept his hand on the knob.
"I've a few things to finish up with the dean," he said to me. "But we'll continue with our plan of action on your thesis, and we should meet probably next week to discuss."
"All right," I said, and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling strange, with my heart beating very fast. "When do you suppose the next defence will be?"
"That's something we'll probably discuss now," he said, glancing at the door and back to me. "But it likely won't be until this whole thing has cleared up. I'll be in touch."
I nodded. "Okay. We'll see you then."
He nodded back in greeting. "Have a good couple of days."
I began my way down the hall and listened as Nigel went back into the dean's office and closed the door behind him. When I looked to see if I was the only one in the hallway, I let out a deep sigh of relief, happy that the interview was over and it hadn't been at all invasive. I pulled my mobile from my pocket to find a text message waiting from Dad, and when I opened it, all it said was, All right?
Yes, I thought as I texted back. Everything's all good.
/
When I knocked on Mrs. Penslivy's door some time later, she greeted me a moment later with one of her big smiles. "Hello Nola."
"Hi Mrs. Penslivy," I said. "I hope this isn't an inopportune moment. I need another lady's opinion."
Her expression faltered as she held the door open for me. "Well of course. Come in, please."
We went into the sitting room, but not before she put the kettle on for tea. "All right luv," she said as she settled into her chair. "What have you got?"
I could barely contain my excitement. I knew she was going to have a fit when she heard about my exciting plans for the next evening. "My gentleman caller rang me today and asked if he could take me out for a meal tomorrow."
As expected, her face lit up. "Well, it's about time!" she said and then she laughed. "I was ready to give him a call myself and give him a good telling off. Where is he taking you?"
"Well that's the problem," I said, biting my lower lip. "He hasn't said, it's going to be a surprise. So I don't know what I should wear."
Her eye was drawn then to the two dresses I had draped over my arm, and she gestured to them. "Let's have a look."
I held up the one, a pale lavender dress with a boat neckline and knee-length skirt that I'd worn to the Garden Show years before. "There's this one," I said, and handed it to her in order to showcase the second one, which was a dark blue dress with a weird waistline that I had worn when a friend got the role as an extra in a production of Waiting For Godot with Sir Ian McKellen. "And then there's this one."
I could see it written on her face, the same expression I had had as soon as I got home and raided my closet, trying to see what I had that would be suitable enough for what would undoubtedly be a nice meal. I was fairly sure Jim wasn't going to send Sebastian to pick me up so we could go for a burger and chips.
"They're both very pretty," she said, but I could hear the hesitance in her voice, and then saw it when she pressed her lips together. "You're certain you don't know where he's taking you?"
"Not at all," I said, sighing, and flopped down on the sofa next to her chair. "I guess I should go off to the shops tomorrow."
She smiled warmly and folded up the lavender dress I had shown her. "That's a nice idea. You should treat yourself for once, you know. You've been working so hard, you deserve a little bit of fun," she poked my knee playfully, in a way that reminded me of my nan, and then she looked at me as though a lightbulb had come on over her head. "I have the most beautiful diamond drop earrings you can wear."
My mouth almost dropped. I knew exactly which ones she was talking about, I had only ever seen her wear them once, they were incredible. "Oh my god, Mrs. Penslivy, are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," she said. "A nice dress, the earrings, your smile, the poor boy won't know what to do with himself."
I smiled to myself then as Mrs. Penslivy went into the kitchen to get the tea, and thought about Jim in my head, knowing exactly the expression I wanted to see on his face, halfway between awe and come-home-with-me-tonight, and thinking of all the possible combinations that would help me get there. I wanted a look that made him sit next to me at the table instead of across from me. The look that made his hand find its way to my thigh under the table over our cocktail. The look that made him whisper into my ear at the end of the meal about having our dessert elsewhere.
Mrs. Penslivy was right. Perhaps I did deserve a little bit of fun.
/
