Campaign Ruby Part 14

'This morning's biggest news is the fallout from Patton's demise, with a whole bunch of Brennan's moles coming out of the woodwork claiming credit for getting rid of Patton. They're being called "Brennan's Brutus Brigade", and the Herald reckons her honeymoon is the shortest in history. Spinnaker gave us a good run on our SME policy.'

'Roo must've laced his Big Mac with an upper,' said Di on speakerphone. She was at the airport waiting to board the media jet.

'I want you all to be prepared for tomorrow's Southpoll,' said Luke. Today's tie looked like metallic seeded mustard. 'Who knows how it'll pan out, but it could be dire. Our own pollsters are telling us that things aren't as rosy as they should be for a new PM, but her novelty will definitely count for something. We stand to lose a few points and we'll need to get to the end of Week One looking relaxed and steady but ready to govern.'

As he talked, I drafted a new To Do list on my BlackBerry.

1. Ask Di about how polls work 2. Put coffee-stained clothes in hotel laundry bag 3. Ask Di who pays for Item 2 4. Confirm visa 5. Sign contract for negligible remuneration 6. Confirm details of Perth event with Maddy 7. Call parents.

The best and worst thing about Perth was that it was so far away from the east coast. Best because it gave Maddy an additional six hours to arrange the event; worst because I was rendered useless for the entire duration of the flight. My BlackBerry sat on my lap like a temptress, tantalising but totally untouchable thanks to the strict 'flight mode only' policy on board the BBJ. The only productive thing I could do was to work with Theo on Max's speaking notes to add a little colour about Patch Radio.

I asked him for a copy.

'I don't have one,' said Theo.

'Do you know who does?'

'No, but if you find one can you let me know so I can stop writing it?'

It was too early to be messed with. 'Are you saying you haven't even written a first draft?' I demanded, surprised by my own tone.

Theo rubbed his greasy gla.s.ses on his tie. 'I'll tell you what: how about I show you what I've written so far and if you've got any feedback just let me know.'

He unbuckled himself and stood up, leaving me with the Word doc.u.ment open on his screen. I handed him my cleaning cloth. 'Which doc.u.ment is it?' I scrolled up and down the page to find the text, but there was none. 'This is quite an elaborate joke to play for someone who has an entire speech to write in five hours.'

'Thanks.' He handed back my cloth. 'Now, will you leave me alone so I can get some work done?'

He might have had the appearance of a golf-loving retiree from Bournemouth who considers Burger King in Ibiza an exotic dining experience, but Theo was as big an oddball as I'd ever come across.

I returned to my seat, rested my eyes for a minute and opened them four hours later.

'You snore,' said Theo.

'You're rude,' I said, mopping up the crusted drool in the corner of my mouth.

'Can you have a read of this speech? It needs a bit of...I don't know. Just read it.' He thrust his laptop onto my tray table, took the newspaper on my lap and went to the toilet. I tried not to think about it.

As I read the speech, I could hear Max giving it. The rhythm matched his style of delivery. It captured the spirit of Patch Radio, the policy's purpose and Max's belief in community service. Annoyingly, there was nothing for me to add but praise.

The toilet flushed and Theo returned to his seat, handing me my newspaper.

'Keep it,' I said.

'Thank you. See what I mean about the speech?'

'I think it reads beautifully.'

'Surely you've got something to say about it.'

I shook my head. He s.n.a.t.c.hed back his laptop and stomped off.

As I searched my mind for something worthwhile to contribute to the speech, Sh.e.l.ly came to sit with me. She looked far more energetic than the rest of us-this was her first day on the campaign trail.

'So you were an investment banker,' she said. 'So was I.'

Until then, I had been labouring under the misapprehension that the Leader of the Opposition's wife probably didn't do much else. Not once had I thought she might have an independent career, and I hated myself for it.

Talk shop, Ruby, said my head.

'Corporate finance?'

'Securities. Commodities, mainly.'

'Why did you stop?'

'Max became Shadow Minister for Resources and Energy, so I took a break. It's good to be around while Abigail is at school.'

'Do you miss it?'

Don't pry, Ruby, said my head.

Sh.e.l.ly nodded. 'I loved it. It made me tick.' She fiddled with her gold wedding band and extended her slender, manicured fingers to examine it. 'If you were a journo I'd tell you I didn't and that I'm honoured to be supporting Max in this very important role. But in truth, it s.h.i.+ts me to tears that I can't do both.'

'Why can't you?' I backtracked. 'Sorry, you don't have to talk about this, of course. I'm just interested in how it works.'

She smiled. 'There are no hard and fast rules, but if there's a public perception of conflict, we err on the safe side. In reality, as a shadow minister or even as LOO, Max never made any decisions that would affect my work or vice versa, but because the perception could have been used against us both, we decided to choose between careers.' She leaned in so close I could smell her shampoo. 'Great email, by the way,' she whispered.

'Which email?'

'One of my old banking buddies forwarded it to me. You should be proud.'

Don't encourage her, my head begged.

I flushed red and buckled for landing. 'Does anyone else-'

'I haven't told a soul.'

That's when it occurred to me. 'Theo,' I called. He couldn't hear me. 'Theo!'

'What?' he asked, still annoyed.

'You didn't say why this policy makes us different.'

He stared at the ceiling, then pulled out his laptop, which was supposed to have been stowed for landing, and tapped furiously at his keyboard until the flight attendant confiscated it.

That afternoon at the hospital in Perth, one of the radio hosts led Max, Sh.e.l.ly and a cohort of cameras through a brightly coloured ward. Maddy was in her element. She had spoken beforehand to the Health Department and a group of patients' parents to seek their permission to film. Everyone was thrilled to be meeting Max and Sh.e.l.ly.

Genevieve, a little girl not much older than Clem, showed Sh.e.l.ly how the radio worked. 'You see, Sh.e.l.ly'- her big brown eyes gleamed from beneath an electric-blue bandana-'I have my own headphones so I can hear Patch. Sometimes they have music and sometimes they read stories to us. If I call them I can request a song.'

'What's your favourite song?' asked Sh.e.l.ly, sitting on the hospital bed, next to Genevieve's dad.

Genevieve pulled Sh.e.l.ly in close, whispering something into her ear. Sh.e.l.ly smiled. The sound technicians leaned in with their boom mikes.

'What did she say, Sh.e.l.ly?' asked one of the journalists, notepad at the ready.

'Can I tell them?' she asked the little girl, who nodded coyly.

'Genevieve loves Chris Isaak's "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing".'

Genevieve buried her head in Sh.e.l.ly's arm to hide from the laughing journalists. Max was standing at the end of Genevieve's bed. 'Max loves that song too,' said Sh.e.l.ly. 'It's on his iPod.'

'I can request it for you, if you'd like,' offered Genevieve.

'I'd like that very much,' said Max.

Julius, one of the volunteers, showed Max into the tiny studio and handed him a pair of headphones. 'Hi, everyone,' said Julius. 'I'd like to introduce a friend of ours, Max Masters. He's the Leader of the Opposition.'

'Hi, kids,' said Max. 'I want to say a special h.e.l.lo to Genevieve in ward sixteen, who said you would play me "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing"-we both love that song.' Julius obliged and Max bopped embarra.s.singly to the music. From outside, I saw a beautiful shot of Max, Sh.e.l.ly and Genevieve on the preview screen of a snapper's camera.

The scrum pushed through to the press conference room to set up, while Max collected his thoughts.

'Can you do his make-up?' asked Di, shoving a toiletries bag into my hand before running into the conference room.

From Subprime to Primer, joked my head. Ruby Stanhope's bestselling memoir.

I unzipped the bag, pulling out a latex sponge and powder pack, and edged towards Max.

'Have I got BO or something?' he teased. 'Believe me, I'd do it myself, but Di says I'm c.r.a.p at it.'

He closed his eyes. This wasn't like doing my own make-up. The sponge rasped against the stubble on his chin and I couldn't figure out how to highlight a man's cheekbones or whether I was even supposed to.

'How long have these guys at Patch been going for?' Max asked.

'Ten years,' I said, dabbing at his nose. 'They've had the volunteer program in place for about eighteen months and take senior school kids and university students on six-month rotations.' I started on Max's forehead. 'You've met Julius already and you'll meet Ying and Praneeta. They're all school-leavers. Julius is about to start medicine at UWA. Ying's little brother is a patient here in the oncology ward and she's taking a gap year next year. Praneeta is starting a newspaper cadets.h.i.+p in six months.'

Di exploded into the room with Sh.e.l.ly. 'Okay, ready when you...Christ! He looks like a b.l.o.o.d.y inpatient!'

I stood back as if I'd been caught at the scene of a crime. Max looked like a geisha.

'I see you found the powder,' Di said.

'Sorry, I've never done this before.' I dug through my handbag for the wet tissues in my Toolkit.

'You're like Mary Poppins,' said Max, wiping at his face.

'I'll fix this,' said Di. 'You go and tell them he's on his way in.'

I raced into the conference room next door where everyone was staring at the wall clock. 'Sorry people,' I said, 'two minutes max.'

Oscar laughed at my unintended pun.

Shortly afterwards, a less creamy Max paced into the room and stood beside the Patch Radio volunteers.

'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 partic.i.p.ate 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 Sh.e.l.ly 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.