The Importance of Ernestine

by Elizabeth Dunk

  ‘Don’t reschedule it. I have no interest in seeing the woman.’

  Meaning Gwen would have to if Lobelia arced up. ‘Of course.’

  Barry huffed back into his office. Gwen waited until the door was closed, then picked up the phone. First call was to the event organiser of the dinner, to get Barry a seat to an event he had actually declined. Gwen was sure she could hear the organiser rolling her eyes, but the woman put Barry down.

  Gwen updated Barry’s calendar, then started searching emails for communication with Lobelia Prism to see if the lobbyist was expecting to have dinner with Barry on Tuesday. When she could find nothing, Gwen left the office and went in search of her other boss.

  Alec Moncrieff was leaning against a wall in the office of another MP, regaling two young female secretaries with a story that had their eyes wide and their hands clapped over their mouths to hold back laughter. Gwen shook her head. If he had any sort of work ethic, Alec would be the chief of staff to the Prime Minister. Actually, he’d probably be prime minister himself. It had taken her a long time to understand Barry’s chief of staff. People had talked him up, but Gwen had quickly learnt that Alec would only work as hard as he needed to and was actually incredibly lazy. He also liked to play practical jokes, such as the calendar stunt.

  Over time, however, Gwen had come to realise that Alec was a political strategy genius. He always knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He had used that power to take one of the old fossils of the party and turn him into one of the most valued and effective ministers in government. Whenever Alec spoke, people listened. He had perfected an ability to come up with all the ideas but avoid all the work.

  Alec was one of the highest paid staffers in the building. Barry paid him a bomb to keep him, and Alec accepted even though he would never dream of leaving the old war horse. Barry Fisher provided him with a platform, and opportunity, without demanding too much of him. Alec had found himself the perfect circumstance.

  Unfortunately, that meant that Gwen’s job as Barry’s executive assistant was all the more complicated. Like it was right now.

  ‘Alec, a word?’

  ‘A moment, my lovelies, and I will return and enthral you with the conclusion to this tale.’ Alec actually bowed, but he was good looking and so it was romantic rather than stupid. Gwen turned so she wouldn’t have to witness the girls swoon.

  Gwen led Alec to a little nook down the corridor. ‘Lobelia Prism.’

  ‘Dammit. I was hoping he wouldn’t look at next week’s schedule until Monday morning and it would be too late to do anything.’

  ‘Why?’

  Alec shrugged. ‘I thought it would be interesting.’

  That could mean either he thought it would be funny, or there was an actual political strategy to the meeting. Alec didn’t like to let on when he was being serious. ‘Is it an actual meeting?’

  ‘Would I place a pretend meeting in the member’s calendar?’

  ‘Yes, you would, and that wasn’t the question. Do I need to contact Lobelia to cancel?’

  ‘Cancel?’

  ‘Barry has decided it’s much more important that he attend the Doctors’ Association dinner. He has a great interest in healthcare, you know.’

  Alec snorted. ‘Yes, amazing what an attack of angina on your fifty-fifth birthday will do. Well, I suppose it won’t be too bad if he goes to the doctors’ dinner.’

  Alec should be a little more annoyed about his plans being ruined. ‘Whatever you’re planning, you need to come out with it. He’s not going to play along otherwise.’

  ‘Planning? Are you insinuating that I am playing loose with our lord and master? I am astonished, Gwen.’

  Now it was she who snorted. ‘He is going to the Doctors dinner. I am cancelling with Lobelia. Exactly what I say to her and how mean I am depends entirely on the next few words you speak.’

  ‘Don’t say a thing. I’ll handle it.’

  Gwen jabbed her finger into his chest. ‘He isn’t having dinner with her Tuesday night.’

  ‘No dinner with Lobelia Tuesday night. I swear.’

  ‘Or any other night.’

  ‘No dinner with Lobelia. Got it.’

  ‘Or lunch. Or breakfast. Lobelia and Barry are not to have any meals with each other. In fact, they are not to be in the same room with each other.’

  ‘Just when I was going to suggest drinks.’ Gwen hit his arm, turned to leave, then stopped. ‘What story are you telling them?’ She nodded to the waiting girls.

  ‘Of the time I helped two unnamed politicians to have a raging affair without the party or the media finding out, only to be busted by his wife.’

  Gwen shook her head. ‘You are going to have those poor girls thinking life is a party here in Parliament House.’

  ‘It is, Gwenny-Gwen. You just don’t want to be involved.’

  There was too much of a ring of truth in that statement, so Gwen stormed away, determined to once again save her boss from both catastrophe and his chief of staff.

  Alec

  Alec took a seat at the still empty table at the Shanghai Dumpling Café—of course John wasn’t on time, the man couldn’t be punctual to lunch to save himself. Too worried about work, not worried enough about eating. Eating, in Alec’s opinion, was one of the only joys of life and it was important to treat it very seriously and give it its rightful due.

  Another of the joys of life was flirting with pretty girls and thankfully, there were a couple at the next table. University students by the looks of the perfect but casual clothes and computers they carried. Too young for anything too serious, but well worth whiling away a few minutes on.

  He smiled at them, and they smiled back. He made a show of looking at his menu, creasing his face with confusion, before he leant toward them.

  ‘I’ve never eaten here before. Anything you’d recommend?’

  ‘Depends how spicy you want it,’ said the red head. Then she winked, proving that she spoke with a double meaning.

  ‘I can be talked into spicy by the right person,’ Alec said. ‘Give it a go.’

  The girl blinked. She hadn’t expected him to be so forward with the innuendo. That was disappointing. He didn’t like people who didn’t take flirting seriously.

  The other girl, a brunette, responded. ‘If I were you, I’d go for something milder. You don’t want to risk upsetting any plans you might have for the afternoon.’

  Now that was more like it. ‘Oh, I definitely want my plans to go ahead.’

  ‘Then I’d suggest the Chinese cabbage and pork stir fried rice cake. Yummy, but not too filling so you’ll have the energy to do whatever you want.’

  ‘Energy is very important. What are you going to have?’

  ‘I was going to go spicy, but I can be talked out of it by the right person.’

  Alec grinned. She might be too young, but by God she was delicious. ‘I think—’

  John flopped down onto the seat opposite, blocking the delicious young woman from view. ‘I’ve only got twenty minutes so quit flirting and let’s order.’

  Alec leant across and shrugged, letting the girl know it wouldn’t go any further. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her companion.

  ‘You have terrible timing,’ Alec said. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever known anyone with worse timing than you. How you’ve survived in politics so far astounds me.’

  ‘I’m in government, you’re not, blah, blah.’ John picked up the menu. ‘How about we get a few items and share.’

  There was a dark tone in John’s voice that had arisen over the past twelve months of watching his mother die. It generally signalled that something had happened with her, but that couldn’t be the case now.

  ‘I won’t share a thing with someone in such a patently bad mood.’

  John glared, and then sighed. ‘Sorry.’ He put the menu down. ‘I got a phone message from Mum this morning.’

  It was such an unexpected sentence, such a wrong thing to have happened, that it took Alec
a moment to process it was actually true. ‘You will need to explain.’

  ‘She recorded it, before she died, for Dad to send to me on my birthday. I had no warning when I saw a message on my machine this morning.’

  ‘Wow.’ Alec shook his head, unsure how to respond and not liking that he was unsure. But this was about John, not him. ‘Your mother was a remarkable woman.’

  ‘Easy for you to say. She liked you.’

  ‘She adored you. As shown by her efforts to still bring her own peculiar charm to your world, even when gone.’

  John rubbed his forehead. ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. But I’m still not over the shock of having heard her voice.’

  ‘I doubt you ever will be, old boy. That’s what grief does. Some days it’s fine, some days it hits you right in the nads.’

  ‘I could have done without it hitting me in the nads today of all days.’

  ‘Today of all days, it was always going to.’

  ‘Let’s put it behind us.’ John took hold of the menu today. ‘But as it is my birthday, you are paying for lunch.’

  Alec was glad to hear the darkness had left John’s tone. ‘You specifically said the other day you didn’t want anything for your birthday. You wanted it to be just another day.’

  ‘Well, it’s not, so you’re paying.’

  ‘Very well.’ Alec looked back at the choices. ‘I think we should have the Chinese cabbage and pork stir fried rice cake this time.’

  ‘Do we have to try something new every time? Can’t we just stick with what we usually have?’

  ‘My dear boy, what is the point of dining at a fine establishment like this if one does not taste all the delicacies on offer.’

  ‘You can have delicacies. I’m ordering pork buns and steamed dim sims.’

  The waitress arrived and they placed their order. Alec added the rice cake to his usual choice of steamed prawn dumplings.

  ‘So, how are the stuffed dogs going?’

  ‘Terribly. Apparently the beagles are much more expensive than the German shepherds, but the German shepherds are too scary for little kids to handle. They’re now thinking of compromising and going with Labradors.’

  ‘You can’t go wrong with a Labrador. They are the most inoffensive dog around.’

  ‘True, but now we have the difficult decision of golden or black? It’s going to take the rest of the day to resolve.’

  ‘The intricacies of government are difficult. We’re happy to step back in again if you need.’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ John said.

  The various dumplings arrived and John leant forward to sniff the rice cakes. ‘They look good.’

  ‘You weren’t interested, you can’t have any.’ Alec took a bite. Tarter than he’d expected, but still good. ‘As we are eating, it’s time to ask you a serious question.’

  ‘If you are capable of doing so.’ John ate one of his pork buns.

  ‘When we were at Little Brooklyn the other evening, I took the liberty of looking at your phone while you were refreshing our drinks.’

  ‘Dammit.’ John slammed his fist on the table. ‘You were the one who installed that stupid lock app on my phone. I’ve been raging at IT about it for days.’

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ Alec said. ‘The point is I note you’ve had several meetings lately with someone called CC. Who is CC?’

  ‘Why on earth would I tell you anything moments after I find out you’ve been tampering with my phone? Honestly, Alec, I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes.’

  ‘Because no one entertains you like I do,’ Alec said. ‘And might I point out the lock will stop me being able to access your phone from now on when you reset the password. So, you’ve no reason to not tell me who CC is.’ Alec reached over to grabbed one of John’s pork buns.

  ‘If I can’t have one of your rice cakes, you can’t have one of my pork buns.’

  ‘Here, have a dumpling instead and be quiet. You know you love those. So, CC?’

  John ate the dumpling and then nodded. ‘CC is code. For credit card. I’ve been doing some research into our credit card use. Heading off potential problems later down the track, you know.’

  ‘Very wise of you,’ Alec said. ‘But you had dinner with CC. Last Friday, in fact. You were supposed to be having dinner with me, but instead you had dinner with a credit card?’

  ‘There are times I would rather spend dinner at home, pouring over paperwork, than with you. Most people would not be surprised to learn that.’

  ‘I am devastated. Also concerned—you are spending a great deal of time looking at these so-called credit cards. Am I to suspect that there is trouble in the Assistant Minister’s allowances?’

  ‘None,’ John said. ‘Not a cent has been misspent.’

  ‘Then you’re done with your CC investigations and there will be no CC in your future?’

  ‘I intend to keep on top of it,’ John said. ‘Something you might consider doing as well.’

  Alec took the last of the pork buns. ‘I will consider it,’ he said grandly, then put the pork bun on his plate and in quick succession ate the rest of the rice cakes, so John couldn’t.

  John raised his hand for the waitress and ordered more pork buns and some rice cakes. ‘Just for me,’ he said.

  ‘Glad to see you taking this seriously,’ Alec said. ‘Now, what are our plans for tonight?’

  ‘My plan is flying home.’

  ‘Dear chap, when are you going to get that Canberra is your home. You’re flying to the hellhole tonight. What is she making you do?’

  ‘In order, dinner with the fundraisers, barbecue with the bowling club, the local school production of Matilda and then morning tea with the croquet club.’

  ‘Horrendous. Well, I will be here, at home, enjoying the fine dining and beautiful sunsets. Do try not to get sunburnt.’

  ‘I was planning on getting a terrible headache after the barbecue to swear off the school production. Haven’t worked out how to avoid the croquet club yet.’

  ‘Bunbury would be proud.’ Alec raised the pork bun and downed it.

  ‘I haven’t heard much of Bunbury’s antics lately. Dare I suggest he’s finally dead and buried?’

  ‘In remission. Thankfully, Barry’s new EA is extremely capable and enthusiastic and willing to take on tasks such as travelling with him. Bunbury hasn’t needed to take to his death bed for a while and I hope for his sake he can continue in this state of good health.’

  ‘Here’s to Bunbury’s continued good health.’ John lifted one of the recently delivered rice cakes. Alec reached over, picked another up and bumped it against John’s.

  ‘You need to take eating much more seriously, old man,’ Alec said before downing the delicacy.

  Cecily

  It was just after lunch. The Senator was going over her emails before returning to the chamber and Cecily had a quiet moment.

  At least, she thought she would.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ John Worthing sauntered into the office. He perched himself on the edge of Cecily’s desk. ‘How goes the countdown to freedom?’

  ‘Have you got a good tailor you’d recommend?’

  ‘Not I personally, but I know who would...’ John took out his phone and sent a text.

  The door to the Senator’s office burst open and then she stood, looking splendid in the yellow jacket and grey trousers.

  John stood. ‘Senator Abeyson, hello.’

  ‘John.’ The Senator came forward, hand outstretched. They shook. ‘Have I told you how grateful I am that you have taken Cecily under your wing? It has made our lives so much easier, being able to call on you for advice. Has it not, Cecily?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Cecily said, and meant it. Being mentored by someone of John’s experience had proven invaluable. John had been here on the hill for years, knew everyone and everything.

  ‘I’m delighted. We can get a bit jaded working here, so it’s wonderful to connect with women such as yourself and Ce
cily. Your enthusiasm and dedication fires us up again.’

  ‘Thank you, John. That’s a lovely sentiment. There is one thing in particular you can help Cecily with—how to develop my brand.’

  ‘Of course, Senator.’

  ‘Wonderful. Please give my regards to Mrs Blakely. She is such a wonderful role model for a female parliamentarian.’ The Senator nodded and went back into her office, closing the door.

  ‘Brand?’ John looked at Cecily.

  ‘That’s a walk and talk discussion,’ Cecily said, casting a glance at the Senator’s closed door.

  So they went for a walk through the corridors. As she worked on the Senate side of the house, everything was hued in reds. The walls were beige, the carpet had red woven through it. The walls were covered with artworks—the house collection was huge. They passed several offices—some of senators of the same party, some of the cross bench senators. They were all fairly small, with just a couple of rooms including the office for the senator themselves. The closer you got to the chamber, the larger the offices got until you had the offices of higher up senators, such as the head of senate business and the opposition equivalent and the President of the Senate. Unfortunately there wasn’t a larger spare office available for Michelle, so she was stuck in the same office she’d had last parliament. It was not something you ever discussed with her.

  ‘Brand.’

  ‘She’s still freaking about the hat photo and wants to be perfection at all times.’

  John rolled his eyes. ‘We could replace her with an android.’

  ‘That is not helpful.’

  ‘She’s a human being. She can’t be perfect. And the only person anyone is going to help become perfect is the PM, and even with all that help he can’t manage it.’

  ‘Well, I need to find a way to make it look like we’re working to make it happen, even if it is impossible.’

  ‘That’s actually not too difficult. Keep giving her ideas for things. Social media. Meetings with people. Interviews. Make her believe you are doing everything you can to change things for her.’

  ‘I can’t keep just giving her ideas and none of them working.’