The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [2]
There was silence.
“And I’m guessing everyone’s turned their computers off at the mains?” she added. “So this thing can’t do any more damage.”
There was a lurch of motion as Anthony, their aging literary agent, dove toward the power socket, knocking his glasses askew in his rush to yank the plug out. “There!” He held it triumphantly aloft, the flickering lamp reflecting on his bald spot.
“Well done.” Alice patted his dandruff-speckled shoulder. “Now, what actually happened?”
All eyes seemed to slide toward Saskia, standing beside the reception computer in a ruffle-necked blouse and pencil skirt. “I didn’t know it would do that!” she protested immediately, blue eyes wide with innocence under flame-red ringlets. “I was just downloading a file. For research!”
“Downloading?” Vivienne finally spoke up. Her face was pale as always beneath a severe dyed-black bob; petite figure swathed in a voluminous black pashmina and trailing ropes of pearls.
“A film.” Saskia’s voice faltered, as if she realized the gravity of the situation for the first time. “No Hope…And Then Death. It’s Russian.”
Of course it was.
Alice was about to escape them all and wait for the cavalry of the IT call-out man when she was gripped by a terrible fear. “You did back up the database though, didn’t you, Saskia? Every night, like we talked about?”
Saskia flushed.
Alice closed her eyes for a second. “When was the last time?” she looked at the girl, pleading. “Last week? Tell me you backed up before the weekend, at least.”
Saskia bit her lip. “There were just so many new things to learn! I was meaning to ask someone…”
Alice gulped, as the full extent of the damage finally became clear. Months of records, lost!
“Well, what’s done is done.” Vivienne clapped her hands together, suddenly roused from her fluster. As Alice watched, Vivienne’s gaze slid over the incompetent intern, ruined system, and room full of disgruntled staff as if they didn’t exist. “Ah, Rupert,” she brightened. “Wonderful timing. How about that lunch?”
“Now?” Alice couldn’t help but question.
“Of course, dear. Nothing I can do! You can deal with it, I’m sure. You always do.” Pulling a black cape off the coat stand and tossing it over her shoulders, Vivienne sailed past. Rupert sent Alice an apologetic look, but—like everyone—was powerless in Vivienne’s clutches. “I’ll be back later…” Vivienne looked around. “Perhaps.” Then she was gone, in a cloud of avoidance and heavy Chanel perfume.
***
Alice spent the rest of the morning patiently hoisting boxes out of storage. As the company lawyer, she knew it wasn’t exactly in her job description to do anything other than construct dense, watertight contracts for Vivienne (and find imaginative ways to pick apart the dense, watertight contracts of everyone else), but Alice had realized soon after joining the agency that details were not Vivienne’s strong point. No, too often, it was left to Alice to wrangle things into some semblance of order, but she didn’t mind. She’d always been the one to corral things into their place, be it her hopelessly impractical father, wayward friends, or a room full of old client records. There was a certain satisfaction to it, she found: a quiet moment of calm carved out of the ongoing chaos.
With the sleeves of her pale silk blouse rolled up, and a particularly rousing Prokofiev sonata playing, Alice had almost finished restoring order when her mobile began to ring. She scooped it from the depths of her handbag, smiling as she saw the caller ID.
“Let me guess, the dragon lady has gone?” Alice shoved a box out of the way and sank down on her threadbare rug.
“Just left for a meeting. Can’t you hear the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus?” Ella laughed. “Or should it be that song from The Wizard of Oz? ‘Ding, dong, the witch is dead!’” she hummed happily. “So, sneak out and meet me for a late lunch? I’ve got a couple of hours, at least.”
Alice sighed. “I don’t think so. I have to wait for the IT guy.”
“But you have darling Saskia for that stuff! Come on,” Ella wheedled. “Help me enjoy my precious freedom. We could go