Campaign Ruby

by Jessica Rudd

  ‘Julius, Ying and Praneeta have chosen to end their childhood by bringing laughter and fun to kids not that much younger than they are—and these are kids who could really do with a laugh. The great work these guys do will have lasting effects. Their well-spent summer will shape them for years to come.

  ‘I can tell you this because when I left school I spent the same summer break volunteering for the local RSL, where I met some incredible old blokes who shared their war stories—stories that were harrowing and inspirational. That summer experience led me to a career in the armed services, and now this gig, and possibly an even bigger one if you decide to give it to me on the third of April.

  ‘Prime Minister Brennan says that there’s not much the government can do for the charity sector in tough economic times. I disagree. There’s plenty government can and should be doing for the not-for-profit sector because our nation wouldn’t function without organisations like Patch Radio.

  ‘If we are elected, I hope the next round of school-leavers will take advantage of the opportunity to participate in our Serve the Nation program. It will pay dividends for us all.’

  Leaning on my shoulder at the back of the room was a spent Maddy.

  ‘Well done,’ I whispered.

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ she said. ‘This is why we do it.’

  Fish out of water

  Serve the Nation landed us with the most popular story on every news website in the country for two days. Lines were loaded at the nation’s talkback radio stations, and TV bulletins ran polls asking viewers whether they supported the initiative. Brennan was on the backfoot, forced to either denounce the policy or back it. She chose the former, resulting in headlines like BRENNAN DID A BAD , BAD THING .

  Better still, Luke was given a sneak preview of the Southpoll results, which had us only two points behind Brennan on a two-party-preferred basis, whatever that was. According to Luke, this gave us underdog status without making us losers.

  By far the biggest news of the day was the Nightcap revelation that a senior government backbencher had masterminded the plot to get rid of Patton on the proviso that he would become Minister for Foreign Affairs, but a callous last-minute manoeuvre had left him stranded on the backbench with the mere promise of a position in the outer ministry if the party retained government.

  We fantasised about the conversations they’d be having over at Camp Brennan. The Prime Minister must have thought she’d made the cleverest move in political history, only to have it all blow up in her face by Day Four of the campaign.

  Maddy and I had been asked to advance an event for Felix Winks, a human rights lawyer and promising young candidate in the Adelaide seat of Watson. Maddy fancied Felix and was determined to leave a lasting impression.

  ‘Felix and I have history,’ she said from the driver’s seat of a hire car on the way to the electorate in question. ‘National Conference 2001. He moved a motion. I seconded it…’ She sighed. ‘We’re going to do a shopping-centre walk.’

  I imagined Max and Shelly in hiking boots on a browsing expedition. ‘I’m new to this, Maddy,’ I said, unwrapping a white mint-flavoured sweet. ‘You’re going to have to explain.’

  ‘You chart a path for the candidate through a shopping centre or pedestrian mall so they can stop and talk to people on the way.’ She held out her hand for a Mintie. ‘For a politician to be able to have normal conversations in normal places with normal people is good,’ she said through stuck-together teeth. ‘And anything can happen in a shopping centre. You name it: protesters with flaming effigies, old people yelling abuse, kids calling you names, babies crying or spewing or both, and security can kick you out if it gets really bad. It’s great.’

  ‘Why not just go somewhere safe then?’ I couldn’t follow her logic.

  ‘Because when a politician can handle an effigy or a spewing baby without losing the plot, it buys a lot of goodwill. On the other hand, if a baby cries and the polly freaks out and hands the kid back to its mum, that’ll make the six o’clock news and everyone will talk about it.’

  We parked outside a small strip of shops and offices. ‘This is it.’ She pointed to a caravan plastered with yellow FELIX WINKS FOR WATSON signs. According to the dashboard, the temperature outside was thirty-two degrees. ‘How’s my hair?’ She sprayed herself with perfume.

  ‘Lovely,’ I coughed.

  We went inside to find a cluster of campaign workers folding letters. Envelopes stuck to their forearms on account of the lack of air-conditioning. In what looked like a stationery cupboard, we found Felix Winks on the phone. He wore a big NO WHALING badge, which made his lapel sag.

  He finished his call, stood up and smiled at us. ‘Great to see you, Maddy.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Maddy, as if she was auditioning for a porno.

  ‘Roo.’ I shook his hand.

  ‘I’d offer you both a seat but I’ve only got two,’ he said. ‘Let’s go out for coffee.’

  He led us down the street to a quaint little coffee shop where everyone knew his name. ‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

  Maddy froze.

  ‘I’d like a latte,’ I said. ‘And you, Maddy?’

  ‘Same,’ she swooned. ‘But make it skinny. I only drink skinny.’

  Save that poor girl from herself, Ruby.

  ‘So,’ Felix said, ‘how do you want to do this?’

  Maddy reddened. I stepped in. ‘Max and Shelly will be here at half four, leaving us enough time for a quick half-hour walk-through.’

  Maddy’s hand trembled so much she struggled to pick up her teaspoon. I thought I had better continue. ‘I understand you’ve been talking to Maddy about a shopping-centre walk.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The local Westfield works well for me because it’s a Friday so we’ll get the after-school mums and kids.’ His brick of a phone started to vibrate violently on the table. ‘This will be centre management—I’d better take it.’ He took the call outside.

  I turned to Maddy and whispered, ‘I have no idea what I’m doing. You need to take over.’

  She tore open a packet of sugar and emptied it everywhere but in her coffee. ‘I’m cool,’ she said, ‘just a little jumpy—too much caffeine.’

  Felix returned. ‘We can go for a run-through now if we like. Does that work for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maddy, ‘we can come together—go together.’

  We piled into the car and hit the road, stopping a hundred yards away at a set of lights near a busy intersection. Outside, in the scorching heat, a man was smoothing an adhesive sign onto a billboard. It was a colossal photograph of the LOO.

  ‘What does it say?’ Felix squinted in the sunlight.

  ‘MAX MASTERS : STEADY HANDS , READY TO GOVERN .’ I scanned the photograph. The silvery tie was perfect with his skin tone. His smile was friendly, his eyes serious. ‘Oh no.’ I groaned.

  ‘What?’ They both turned to me.

  I pointed to the adjacent billboard.

  EXPERIENCING ERECTILE PROBLEMS? TRY READY,

  STEADY, GO! CALL 1300 GET IT UP.

  ‘That’s just great,’ said Felix. ‘On the same street as my bloody campaign office.’

  I took a photograph of the billboards and emailed it to Luke.

  Hi Luke. Postcard from Adelaide. Regrettable slogan coincidence. R

  Maddy found a parking space at the shopping centre and we were inside the blissfully cool air-conditioned building when my phone rang. It was Luke.

  ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’ His voice was low.

  ‘Sorry, Luke, photos don’t lie.’

  ‘There’s not much we can do about it now, I guess. How big is it?’

  ‘Long and stiff as a board.’

  ‘Shhhh,’ he said, ‘don’t make me laugh—Max is doing live radio. See you in Adelaide.’

  I turned to Felix, who was busy chatting with Russell from centre management. Maddy stood behind Felix, shamelessly scoping out his arse.

  We were shown the entrance Max and Shelly
would use and walked past a number of shops, including a green grocer, bakery, butcher, shoe repair, cafe and pet shop.

  ‘All of these tenants are happy to have Mr and Mrs Masters in their shops,’ Russell said, ‘except the pet shop owner, because she’s worried the flashes will spook the kittens.’

  ‘Thanks for your time, Russell.’ Felix shook his hand.

  ‘No worries, Felix,’ said Russell. ‘My wife and I’ll be voting for you. Will your girlfriend be joining us this afternoon?’

  ‘Girlfriend?’ hissed Maddy.

  ‘Nonie’s at work,’ said Felix, ‘but she’ll come if she can—she’s dying to meet Max and Shelly.’

  ‘Terrific,’ I said, to distract him from the sound of Maddy’s heart shattering into a billion pieces.

  Maddy excused herself. I took the opportunity to check my BlackBerry. I had about eighty unread emails, which seemed impossible because I didn’t know that many people in this country let alone people with my four-day-old email address. There was one from Luke.

  R

  Please find a way to get the media bus to the shopping centre without passing the newly erected billboard.

  Couldn’t resist.

  L

  PS Let’s chat about your role at some point. Keep up the good work.

  I went to find Maddy in the loos.

  ‘Where are you?’ My voice echoed through the stalls. ‘Anyway, what kind of a name is Nonie?’

  I heard a giggle. ‘A dumb one,’ Maddy said, opening the door. ‘He’s just so spunky.’

  ‘That means something entirely different where I come from,’ I said. ‘There are better candidates for you, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Doubt it.’ She reapplied gloss in the mirror. ‘There’s no time to find a bloke in this job—it’s all pollies, staff and journos, all of whom are off limits.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘All of them. Why?’

  Yes, Ruby, why? asked my head.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘we need to find a way to get the media bus here without passing the billboard.’

  ‘I’ll do that. You wait for the cops and buy me some chocolate.’

  I went outside to Felix. ‘What are you wearing this afternoon?’

  ‘This.’

  My head shook itself.

  ‘Felix, you’re about to be on national television and these will become your new file photographs with all the local papers.’

  He looked down at his front-pleated chinos and the stripy shirt under his droopy jacket.

  ‘I’ve watched enough Trinny and Susannah to know that shirt will strobe on telly, the jacket and chinos are too similar to look contrasting and too different to look matched. The LOO will probably be wearing a suit because he’s coming straight from the plane.’

  He looked wounded.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Felix, perking up a bit. ‘I’ll go home and change. I’ve got a really gangster pinstripe—’

  I shook my head. ‘Anything plain?’

  ‘Nonie knows my wardrobe better than I do. I’ll get her on the phone.’ He dialled and gave me his handset.

  ‘Nonie, my name’s Roo and I work for Max Masters. I need your help. Has Felix got any block-colour suits?’

  ‘I am so glad you asked. I bought one for him, but he never wears it because he thinks it’s too flash. It’s just a two-button black suit I got in the sales last year from Hugo Boss. It fits him like a glove. He has a white shirt and textured red tie to go with it.’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ I said. ‘Is it clean?’

  ‘It’s still got the tags on. Listen, while I’ve got you on the phone I was thinking of wearing a little royal-blue summer dress and white cardigan—does that sound okay?’

  ‘How little?’

  She laughed. ‘Below the knee.’

  ‘Shoes?’

  ‘White sandals, low-heeled.’

  ‘Lovely,’ I said, ‘I look forward to meeting you.’ I handed Felix his phone. ‘Go home. Nonie knows what to do.’

  When the cops had arrived and were satisfied with the venue, I went in search of chocolate and called Debs to track down my suitcase.

  ‘Young Ruby,’ she said, ‘you’ll be pleased to know I sent your bag to Perth with my colleague.’

  ‘Actually, I’m in Adelaide.’

  ‘Bugger. Are you going to be there overnight?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Well, when you know, tell me and I’ll have it couriered to you. Are you still wearing your pink frock?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I bought myself some new gear and I sort of borrowed your overnight bag from Daphne’s cupboard in Melbourne.’

  ‘Did you now?’ She laughed. ‘And all this time I’ve been self-flagellating for my poor wardrobe-challenged niece, only to discover she has stolen my favourite pants.’

  ‘I didn’t steal any of your pants. That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Trousers are pants in this country, dear girl,’ she said. ‘The only people who wear trousers are old men and, in any case, they usually refer to them as slacks. Flip-flops are thongs, thongs are g-strings, sweets are lollies and a lay-by is a purchasing method—not a lorry stop. And we don’t say lorry. It sounds like a girl’s name, not a truck. Rhymes with fuck—far more appropriate. Daph has the list.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Aunty Debs, I’m very impressed that you referred to me as your niece. And there I was thinking you were a puppy-hating commitmentphobe.’

  ‘I did not call you my niece. Anyway, I’ve got to go, champ. Super busy.’ She hung up.

  Then I remembered the trousers. I had left them and Debs’ shirt in the Perth hotel laundry. I emailed Beryl.

  Beryl

  Could you please track down the number for housekeeping at the hotel in Perth? I need to do some urgent trousers recovery.

  Roo

  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel. I did recall that the bed had been comfortable and I hadn’t spent enough time in it.

  Armed with three bags of something called Fantales, I got a text message from Maddy.

  In manager’s office with Felix who looks seriously hot. Nonie looks like Cate bloody Blanchett with Angelina Jolie’s lips. Come quickly—Luke on way from airport. M

  She wasn’t wrong. Felix looked like he’d stepped off a red carpet and Nonie was a vision in a bias-cut, cobalt silk dress.

  ‘You two look the part.’

  ‘You must be Roo,’ said Nonie, rushing to embrace me. Maddy shot me a murderous look.

  We made our way to the designated entrance to wait with the media scrum for Max and Shelly, Luke and the rest of the campaign team.

  ‘Welcome back to Watson, Max,’ said Felix when the LOO arrived. They began the walk.

  I hung back at a safe distance with the journalists. ‘Where have you been?’ Oscar breathed in my ear.

  ‘Here and there,’ I said. ‘And you?’ Maddy, who was walking with Luke, turned around. I tried to ignore her stare.

  ‘I just came in from Perth. We missed you on the media plane.’

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘I’d better stick with Max,’ I said, quickening my pace to join Luke and Maddy at the front of the scrum.

  ‘Don’t think we didn’t see that flush of colour, missy,’ said Maddy. ‘Am I right, Harley?’ But Luke was charging ahead, pea-green tie flapping behind him.

  Max, Felix, Shelly and Nonie were at the bakery sampling hot cross buns when they were approached by a woman and her young son who had obviously just been to the pet shop. Max got down on his haunches. ‘Hi there,’ he said to the boy. ‘I’m Max. What’s your name?’

  ‘Steve.’

  ‘And who’s this, Steve?’ Max pointed at the lone goldfish Steve was holding in a water-filled plastic bag.

  ‘Nemo 2.’

  ‘After Nemo the movie?’ asked Felix, chuffed that he knew the reference.

  ‘No,’ said Steve, ‘
after Nemo 1—Jaws ate him.’

  Felix and Max rose to talk to Steve’s mum, Nancy—it was safer up there.

  ‘Mummy,’ said Steve, tugging on Nancy’s skirt.

  ‘Don’t interrupt, darling,’ she said sternly and kept talking to Max. ‘My husband runs a small business and it’s really tough at the moment.’

  Max and Felix nodded.

  ‘BUT MUM!’ A small puddle had formed at Steve’s feet. ‘Nemo 2’s home is leaking,’ he cried. ‘A lot.’

  Felix grabbed the bag and ran, chased by Max, carrying Steve, followed by Nancy, Flack the Cop and a squadron of snappers. Felix burst into the pet shop. ‘I’m Felix Winks,’ he said, competing with meowing kittens, ‘and this is Nemo 2 and he needs a top-up.’

  ‘I told management you people weren’t welcome in here,’ said the pet shop owner, double-bagging Nemo 2. Journalists scribbled furiously. ‘You’ll scare the animals!’

  Max joined the fold. ‘I’m sorry about all the commotion,’ he explained, ‘it’s just that we were chatting with Steve’s mum, Nonie here, and—’

  ‘Nancy,’ corrected Felix. ‘Nonie’s my girlfriend.’

  The confused cameramen switched their attention to Nonie, who was with Shelly outside the shop.

  ‘Hi,’ she grinned and waved. The moment was awkward enough without the poor girl slipping in Nemo 2’s puddle, and thudding onto the ground, dress well above the knee.

  ‘Code red,’ Maddy said.

  Luke hung his head.

  Cameras zoomed.

  ‘The billboards look like paradise now,’ I said.

  In the can

  It was the middle of the night, or at least I thought it was. I knew I was in a hotel room because the sheets were tucked in too tightly and my skin smelled unfamiliar from the citrus-scented soap. I couldn’t find my BlackBerry, so I hit 0 on the bedside-table phone, in search of answers.

  ‘Good morning, Guest Relations, this is Michelle.’

  ‘Would you mind telling me what time it is?’

  ‘Certainly, ma’am. It’s 3 a.m.’

  ‘Thank God it’s Friday.’