Campaign Ruby (34 page)

‘SPERM!?'

People stared at us. Daphne smiled.

‘Jesus. Fuck. Say it louder.'

‘Sorry, I'm just so excited and I haven't had any sleep and I didn't expect it would happen this quickly and you didn't seem at all inclined to proceed with this the last time we spoke.'

‘Yeah, well, I changed my mind. Anyhow, my PA said he'd rub one off for us, so that was nice, I guess.'

My phone buzzed.

The local member has just called me to concede. I've won.
I am going to be the Member for Watson. Felix Winks (MP)

‘Luke!' I ran back into the president's office. ‘Felix Winks is the new Member for Watson.' I bounced up and down.

‘And Felicia Lunardi is the new Member for Rafter,' he said, bouncing with me.

‘I don't want to disturb you two in your Maasai moment,' said Max, who swivelled to face us in the president's chair, ‘but it'd be good to get an update.'

Luke steadied himself, remembering he was a grown-up. I did the same, but only because I didn't want to wear down the red soles of my boots.

‘I've spoken at length with Mirabelle,' Luke said, handing Max a breakdown of the numbers. ‘I think you should focus on your winning speech. The marginals are falling our way and eight of the thirteen candidates have already conceded, even though it's only half past nine. There are four others on a knife-edge. You'll probably get the call within the hour.'

For Max, it wasn't sinking in. ‘Would you mind rounding up my family and sending them in? Just knock on the door if you need us.'

Maddy wheeled her whiteboard into the hallway. She had an Electoral Commission map of Australia on the floor and used a highlighter to colour in the seats we had won. ‘One, two…four…seven…nine, ten, eleven… fourteen!' Her pitch climbed a few octaves as she counted. ‘Holy shit, people. That's government. I'm going to get changed.'

‘Me too,' said Di. ‘There's no way I'm going to look like trash for this.'

‘Roo's supplies are in the Gents,' said Theo.

I sat on the floor. ‘Now what happens?' I asked Luke.

‘We wait for the call from the PM to tell us she's conceding.' He slid down the wall onto the floor beside me. ‘So, Ruby Stanhope, are you glad you did this?'

‘Did what?'

‘This. The campaign.'

‘Meeting you at that dreary fundraiser is by far the best thing that's ever happened to me. Not that it wouldn't have been lovely to meet you in other circumstances. It would have, even with the suit. For the record, I don't have a problem with the suit. It's a little big for you and not a great colour for your skin, which is nice, by the way. It smells wet—your suit, not your skin—the good kind of wet though, not like wet dog or wet wool, but like sprinklers and rain. And the banana tree is growing on me. Pun not intended. Of course, I'm not trying to say the sole reason I'm glad to have met you was the career opportunity that followed, even though they have revolutionised me. Not like the Cultural Revolution, which was horrid, or even the Industrial Revolution for that matter, which was necessary but very dirty…'

And there, on the floor outside the toilets at a Melbourne RSL sub-branch on election night, Luke Harley held me still and kissed me. He kissed me with such intensity that I had no doubts, no noisy objections from my head, heart or body. All of me was into him.

‘Yuck! Dis
gus
ting!'

Luke let go of my face and opened one eye to find a five-year-old standing over him. Fran was right behind Clem.

‘What is it, Clemen…Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing to my sister?'

‘Well, well, little Lukey Harley is getting fresh with my niece, as predicted. Good to see.'

‘Awkward,' observed Luke as he helped me to my feet.

‘Fran, Clem, this is my friend, Luke Harley. Luke, this is my sister, Fran, and niece, Clementine.'

‘Oh, so
you
are Luke
and
Harley,' said Clem. ‘I thought you were two people, because I went to nursery with a boy called Harley and our gardener's name is Luke the Gardener. I found a phone on the floor asking for you. It's blue. The lady said she wanted to speak to Luke Harley, so I asked which one—Luke or Harley—because I didn't know who you are. And she said both. So I told her they are in London, but sometimes Harley goes skiing. And then she said she wanted to speak to Max Masters and I couldn't find Max so I said I would give Luke, Harley and Max a message if I found them.'

Luke went white.

‘It must have been the PM calling on Max's BlackBerry. Shit.'

‘Aunty Wooby!'

‘Ruby!'

‘Where's the BlackBerry, Clem?'

‘The what?'

‘The phone, darling. Where did you put the phone?'

‘It's not black, it's blue.'

I took a deep breath. ‘I know it's blue. Life is confusingly counterintuitive at times. The phone belongs to Max. It's very important.'

‘It's in my knapsack,' said Clem, unzipping Dorothy the Dinosaur. She pulled out the BlackBerry and gave it to me. Four missed calls, all from the same number. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

I hit callback.

‘Good evening, Prime Minister Brennan's office, this is Martha.'

Fuck.

‘Good evening, Martha. My name is Ruby Stanhope and I'm calling from the Leader of the Opposition's office. I understand you tried to place a call earlier. Is there something I can help with?'

‘Tell me, Ruby,' said Martha, ‘are you in some way related to Clementine Genevieve Gardner-Stanhope?'

‘Yes, I'm really very sorry about that.'

‘The Prime Minister would like to speak with the Leader of the Opposition,' she said. ‘That is,
if
he is available to take her call.'

‘Certainly, Martha. I will get him for you now.'

Luke and I raced down the hallway to the president's office and knocked on the door.

‘Come in,' said the LOO.

‘Max,' I said, handing him the phone, ‘this is it.'

As Luke and I waited outside, I drafted a To Do list.

1. Practise saying ‘Prime Minister' without sounding obsequious

2. Delete ‘LOO' from vocabulary, unless referring to the lower case

3. Arrange new working visa

4. Purchase copy of
Transition to Government for Dummies

5. Draft bill to outlaw long socks

6. Replenish Toolkit

7. Visit Toolangi Winery with Luke to get a case of their finest peanut noise.

Acknowledgments

Thanks: to Lihan at Wain Wain, who brought me iced oolong tea and guarded my laptop during loo breaks.

To Catherine, Fi, Fleur, Kathy, Kristy, Nadia, Nicole, Renee and Rita for their wisdom and support.

To Alice, for improving Ruby's Englishness.

To my friend Sue—advocate, ally and enabler.

To Lou Ye and Nai Nai, for their warmth.

To Mum, who redefines ‘busy', for finding time to read and give feedback on each chapter within minutes of receipt, even from Kilimanjaro.

To Dad, Nick and Marcus for their unconditional love and encouragement.

To my grandmothers, Elizabeth and Margaret, for the writing gene.

In a big way, to Ali, Michael, Penny, Jane, Kirsty, Alaina and the other good folk at Text Publishing. Authors write manuscripts, publishers make them books. Ruby couldn't have found a better partner than she has in Text.

Last and by every means most, to my husband Albert, who had faith in me when I didn't.