by Toni Pike
Everything was proceeding to plan. The ballroom was decked out with yellow balloons and Freedom Party banners, and the stage was prepared for a nationwide broadcast, my speech of victory or defeat at the end of the evening. We remained upstairs in a function room set up as our Command Centre to monitor election results all over Australia.
Our closest friends and allies were there ready to celebrate or commiserate with us. We ate an early dinner and then Letitia changed into a yellow satin dress with a red, white and blue striped belt: the colours of the Australian flag. Her wavy auburn hair was swept up into a loose bun and she looked like the perfect politician’s wife.
The Prime Minister, Doug Lapsley, held a campaign party at the Canberra Convention Centre. Journalists watching the Workers Party members arriving reported that they were looking nervous.
The results started flowing in at seven o’clock. The safest seats fell first, the ones most likely to be won by the Workers Party or the Freedom Party. I was declared the winner in my own seat of Mangrove at nine o’clock. The twenty marginal seats were the ones that everyone was watching closely, but soon the results became clear.
Fourteen of them fell to the Freedom Party. We had won eighty-five seats out of one hundred and fifty. My heart was beating fast as I realised that it was a landslide victory, the Freedom Party would be in government and I would be the next Prime Minister.
Letitia gazed into my eyes. “You’ve done it, my darling,” she said as I wrapped my arms around her.
“Thanks to you,” I replied, and then called out to everyone in the room. “Lapsley should concede defeat very soon and then the night is ours.” There were cheers all round.
The mood was very different at the Workers Party gathering that we saw on the TV screen, with palpable grief, gloom, doom and despair. Campaign workers cried and hugged each other as they faced the awful truth that the election was lost. Despite their dismay, they cheered and applauded as Doug Lapsley walked on stage at nine-thirty. The party members there looked as if it was the worst day of their lives.
At ten o’clock I strode into the ballroom with Letitia by my side. Derek Slade and his wife were close behind me. The party faithful cheered as we walked a gauntlet of back patting and hand shaking then climbed the stairs to stand behind the podium. The merriment continued for two long minutes until, with beaming smiles, we raised our hands to call for quiet.
I tried not to blink as the cameras flashed. My speech began and it was broadcast across the nation. “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Australia, tonight we have a new government,” I said. “I want to thank Doug Lapsley for his good wishes and acknowledge the work that he and his party have done over the last ten years. I wish him the very best in the future.
“Now it’s time for a breath of fresh air, a new government and a new way of doing things, to strengthen our economy and make improvements to infrastructure. I will ensure that this government rewards individual effort and achievement and is ready for the challenges faced by the growth in our ageing population. I also want our healthcare system to be the best in the world.
“I want to thank my deputy Derek Slade, who will be the Minister for Infrastructure, and Helen Janssen, who will be the new Foreign Minister. I also want to thank every single one of my colleagues, your elected representatives all over Australia, who have fought so hard to win this victory tonight. Citizens of Australia, we’re here to serve you and this will be an effective and honest government. We will not let you down.
“Finally, I want to thank my beautiful partner, Letitia, for her support, hard work and sacrifice over the last few years. She will make a wonderful Prime Minister’s wife. And I want to give my heartfelt thanks to my chief adviser, Ranjit Perera.”
I felt as if we were at the centre of the universe, as if every person in the country was right there with us in that ballroom. I knew that there were thousands of election parties all over Australia that night, large and small, people watching us on television, cheering us on or shaking their heads in dismay according to their point of view.
***
JOSHUA
An election party was held that evening for the inmates at Broome Regional Prison. They were served potato crisps, a few dips and a very second-rate cheese platter with some orange juice and coffee to wash it down. They enjoyed the opportunity to have a social function, even if most of them were not entitled to vote. They devoured the food and chatted about politics – everyone, that is, except Joshua Byrnes. He sat in a corner, ate very little and watched the TV screen intently, especially when the new Prime Minister made his victory speech.
When it was over, he stood up and turned around. “I know him!” he shouted.
One of the guards gave him a stern look. “Settle down, Byrnes, and stay out of trouble, I’m warning you.”
The others inmates stared at him for a moment and then resumed their conversations. Only his cellmate Kyle came over. “Are you okay, Josh? I don’t think anyone was too impressed. Just forget about the Prime Minister – that kid is all in the past and you’ll be out of here soon. He doesn’t want anything to do with you now.”
Joshua turned away and walked back to his cell. He stayed awake all night, his mind churning.
***
TYLER
Canberra
In Canberra, with the victory speech complete, Letitia and I mingled with everyone for at least two hours and then went back to the Command Centre upstairs for more celebrations. We were driven home at two o’clock in the morning, both feeling elated but exhausted.
We walked inside but Letitia stopped outside our bedroom. “I have something to tell you, Prime Minister,” she said.
“Yes, Mrs Thompson?” I asked.
She turned around and gave me a grave look. My heart jumped into my throat as I wondered if she had learned the truth about me, but she gave me a sly smile. “I’m having a baby.”
My mouth dropped open. “Letitia, that’s the most wonderful news in the world, much better than everything else tonight.”
“I felt terrible keeping it from you. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course. But how long have you known?”
I’m eight weeks pregnant and in perfect health.”
Although this was an impossible dream come true, I was shocked that she’d kept the news from me. “You should have told me, don’t ever keep secrets from me again,” I said. But then I wanted to choke on my words, remembering the extent of my own deception.
“I was not about to disrupt the campaign and I wanted to surprise you once I was sure that everything was okay.”
I held her in my arms all night and gently stroked her stomach. Letitia dozed off to sleep, but I stayed wide awake. Good luck stayed with me like a curse, mocking me and turning me into the one most likely to succeed. One thought kept hammering my brain. My innocent baby would inherit the genes of a murderer.
Letitia woke up at six o’clock and gazed at me. “Are you too excited to fall asleep?” she asked.
Words spilled out of my mouth and I said things she didn’t need to know. “Letitia, I want to tell you something. I’m afraid there might be something wrong with my genes.”
“What could be wrong with them?”
“My parents were dreadful and I wanted them to die so that they wouldn’t hurt me any more. I think their murder is my fault.”
“Don’t ever say that,” she said firmly. “You’ve been affected by your childhood, of course you wanted them to stop hurting you. Anyone would want that.”
“But perhaps I’m no better than they were.”
She cupped my face in her hands. “No, you’re not like them at all. You were only an eleven-year-old boy. Your parents made you feel guilty about everything.”
“Perhaps I should speak to someone, talk to Ranjit about it.”
She glared at me with her jaw set firm. “Tyler, listen to me. Now that you’re Prime Minister you have to be careful with every word you say. You must never breathe a word of
anything like that again. The media jumps on top of every little phrase, every silly statement or joke that you make and blows it out of all proportion. Ranjit might leave one day and then sell his story to the media. Don’t tell him stuff you might regret.”
“But everyone knows that my childhood was difficult.”
“Just use that to your advantage, as a way to show people how you can relate to them. But don’t ever say you wanted your parents to die or you blame yourself for their deaths. You’re not responsible, and our child will be perfect with two wonderful parents.”
“I’m sorry Letitia. I love you so much and this is the most wonderful day of my life, apart from our wedding day.”
She kissed me and then we both fell asleep, overcome with fatigue.
Two days after the election, the retiring Prime Minister Doug Lapsley and his wife Elinor invited us to join them for a tour of The Lodge, the Prime Minister’s residence, just before they moved out. That was a tradition whenever there was a change of government and was always conducted with the media present.
Ranjit Perera had another one of his brilliant ideas. That morning he released a media statement to announce Letitia’s pregnancy. The Lapsleys were very hospitable and greeted us warmly when we arrived at The Lodge. The women stood together while we posed for photographs at the front entrance.
“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Thompson,” called out one journalist.
“Thank you very much, we’re very excited about becoming parents,” I replied.
“How are you feeling today, Mrs Thompson?” asked another one.
“Very well, thank you,” she said with a happy smile.
Elinor Lapsley approached the microphone. “We’re going to look at one bedroom that I think would make a very good nursery.” She and Letitia held hands as if they were the best of friends.
We moved into The Lodge two weeks later, with the help of an expert team of removalists so that we didn’t have to do anything ourselves. The mansion was already fully furnished, so we only needed our personal possessions. We had household staff so that we could focus on work and official duties, and there was also security protection. It seemed bizarre for someone who had come from such humble beginnings.
We left our townhouse vacant with the furniture and most of our belongings still there. Sometimes, when we tired of the gilded cage, we sneaked over and walked around, made a coffee and relaxed on the sofa, then tidied up our little garden. It was just three kilometres away from The Lodge, but it felt like another galaxy. I went for a jog every morning around Lake Burley Griffin with a retinue of four security guards around me, and Ranjit always came with me to discuss our daily schedule.
Letitia’s pregnancy was front page news, with countless articles in newspapers and magazines for six months. Many of them were speculation or fantasy about everything from the sort of birth she might choose, the diet she might need, or how she could avoid post-natal depression. If she were photographed without a smile, that justified a story about nervous exhaustion. On a more cheerful but ludicrous note, a survey in one women’s magazine ranked us as the most popular couple in Australia. The government’s popularity soared to sixty-five per cent in the opinion polls, while the poor Workers Party floundered at thirty-one per cent.
We hosted a wonderful New Year’s Eve Party at Kirribilli House, our official residence in Sydney, with one hundred official guests gathered on the back lawn. We all had a perfect view of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House to enjoy the fireworks. I stood there with my arm around Letitia, dazzled by the display that seemed designed just for our benefit. “I must be the luckiest man in the world,” I whispered in her ear as she squeezed my hand.
Two days later I received a phone call from Barry Elliot, who was now a detective inspector in Port Hedland and getting close to retirement. A knot tightened in my stomach as I pressed the screen to answer. “Barry, how are you?” I asked.
“Fine, thanks, Tyler,” he replied. “Congratulations on that baby – how is Letitia?”
“She’s very well and there’s not long to go now, just a few more weeks. Can I help you with anything?”
“Tyler, this is just a courtesy call to let you know that Joshua Byrnes is to be released soon.”
His words shocked me like a jolt of electricity. “What will happen then?” I asked with a stutter.
“There’s no need to worry. He’s been a model prisoner and we expect that he’ll settle somewhere in Western Australia. He said that was his plan.”
My head was spinning and I struggled to put one clear thought in front of another. “Is there anything I should do? I’d prefer not to have any publicity about this.”
“No, we don’t need to make any announcement and Byrnes doesn’t seem interested in drawing attention to himself. Even in prison, he tended to live a reclusive life.”
I desperately hoped that was true, that he would stay well away from us and lead a quiet life. Perhaps I’d never hear about him again, and he could enjoy his freedom and find some happiness. We chatted for about ten minutes, vowing to catch up next time I was near Port Hedland, and then we said goodbye.
I stared out the window as the phone call ended and a cold chill raced down my spine. Please stay away, Joshua – stay away from me and everything will be all right. We both need to forget about the past.
Chapter 12
JOSHUA
Joshua Byrnes had acquired many computer skills during his years in jail and had also worked in the prison library. In that time he had amassed a huge collection of articles about Tyler Thompson but he had long ago given up trying to keep all the paper hidden in his cell. He monitored the news, scanned every item and emailed them to his own free email account. Paperless was the perfect storage solution.
Joshua was released at the beginning of January, a week earlier than expected. All he took with him was the money he had earned in jail working in the library, the clothes he had been wearing when he was arrested and the backpack stuffed with his camping gear. He felt a surge of exhilaration as he slung it over his shoulder again.
He walked to the town centre and bought a ticket on the next bus heading north. He travelled for eight hours then stopped for a few days, did some casual work and spent his earnings on the next bus ticket. When he reached Tennant Creek, he camped in the outback for two weeks. Warming himself beside the fire, he gazed at the stars for hours and basked in the joy of being free.
Joshua wondered if he should forget all his years of planning and instead just wander around until the day he died. He tried to fall asleep that night but when dawn broke he knew that there was no forgetting the past. Three days later, he reached the nearest town and boarded another bus. He kept on travelling, stopping only for one or two days at a time, and after three more weeks he finally reached Canberra.
He needed somewhere to live and a found a cheap room for rent in Queanbeyan, a country town adjacent to Canberra. When that town was first settled in 1838, no one imagined that a capital city would be established nearby seventy-five years later. It was only twenty minutes away from Parliament House.
The Macquarie Men’s Boarding House was an old pub that had closed down in 1960. Joshua shared a mouldy bathroom and kitchen with thirty other residents who all had their own set of problems – mostly related to drugs and alcohol. His dingy little room had a single bed, an old wooden closet and a small chest of drawers. Through a torn blind he looked out on a brick wall two metres away.
Joshua couldn’t help squeezing his hands into a tight fist as he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had a small window of opportunity to achieve his goals and he was bristling with determination. At least his new home was not a prison cell and he was free to come and go whenever he wanted. Just down the road was the public library, with several computers and free access to the Internet.
***
TYLER
In early May I was the guest of honour at the opening of an amphitheatre at the National Arboretum. As part of the celebrat
ions, there was to be a large citizenship ceremony. Letitia was heavily pregnant with only two weeks remaining, but she insisted on accompanying me.
“Everyone will understand if you stay home and rest,” I said.
She waved away my concerns. “I’ll be fine and this will show people how much we care about them,” she said. She was dressed in a yellow coat with a wide-brimmed hat and looked beautiful with her sleek baby bump. We had decided not to find out the gender before the birth, so we were looking forward to the surprise and had chosen two alternatives for a name.
The amphitheatre was packed to capacity with three hundred new citizens from twenty different countries, along with their friends and family. Letitia and I were seated on the stage. My speech, prepared by Ranjit with only a few modifications from me, was designed to inspire and welcome the new citizens after they pledged their loyalty. When the time came for me to speak, Letitia and I stood up and kissed each other. We both waved to the crowd as I walked over to the podium and she resumed her seat.
The crowd applauded and then my speech began.
“Here we are in this beautiful location, the National Arboretum, a magnificent site established to celebrate trees from around Australia and the world,” I said. “It’s wonderful to see so many new citizens today, ready to declare before everyone, including friends and family, that you will be loyal to Australia, uphold our democratic beliefs and uphold and obey our laws.”
I looked around at the wide blue sky, the orange-red vista of autumn trees that framed Lake Burley Griffin in the distance and the field of smiling faces in the audience. “This is a very special day for all of us,” I continued, “and Letitia and I are privileged to be here with you and welcome you as our newest citizens.”
