Part 20 (1/2)

No, you didn't.

'And what were you doing in the loo for ten minutes anyway?'

'That's no question to ask a lady.'

'You're not a lady; you're a policy advisor.'

'No, I'm not: you haven't given me a single piece of policy work since I joined.'

'Diddums.'

His sarcasm was unattractive.

'Why the h.e.l.l are you wearing a wife-beater to work? It's f.u.c.king unprofessional.'

'I had to improvise. It's exceptionally hot here. My flip-flops are melting. You've no idea...'

'So why did every member of the national press gallery manage to come in appropriate attire? And Maddy?'

'Maddy must be reptilian because she ate hot porridge for breakfast in three-hundred-degree heat! She's the kind of person who'd order bread and b.u.t.ter pudding in Bora Bora!' My voice bounced off the corrugated-iron awning. 'In any case, I'm rather surprised to be receiving fas.h.i.+on advice from a man with a tie collection resembling landfill!'

Silence.

'Luke?'

'I expected more from you, Roo. Much more.'

'Well, I'm sorry to have been such a disappointment.' The lump in my throat made my voice waver.

'Di is livid. You'll be in the papers tomorrow and on the TVs tonight.'

'Terrific. I'm going to make my television debut wearing promotional beer gear.'

The smoker took offence, stubbed his cigarette and walked back inside.

'Jesus, Ruby, did you stop for a second to think about how this might impact on Felicia Lunardi? Her campaign already looks like a f.u.c.king freak show.'

I bit my lip and lowered my Aviators.

'By the way, where's my dictaphone?'

'I believe the LOO has it.' Technically true.

'What?'

He cut out. I kicked an empty beer can at my feet.

It's not too late to join yodelling Kev, you know, said my head.

'f.u.c.k off.'

'Sorry,' said a voice behind me, 'I just thought you could use some company.'

I turned to see Oscar unb.u.t.toning his collar and rolling up his sleeves.

'Sorry, I was talking to myself.'

'Do you always tell yourself to f.u.c.k off?'

'Only when I'm very cross with me.'

'For what it's worth, Channel Eleven viewers will miss out on seeing Fourex Roo.'

I looked up at his strong jaw and warm smile. 'That's very kind of you.'

'There's a caveat.'

'And what's that?'

'That we get off this barbeque of a balcony and rejoin the sane people in the air-conditioning. You did promise to have a drink with me.'

Lord knows how many rum and c.o.kes later, I was dancing on the pool table singing 'Land Down Under' into a cue, to an audience of miners and journalists. It was safer up there; Di was barely speaking to me, though Maddy had a.s.sured me it would blow over. Cyclone warnings in Townsville meant that our planes were grounded until morning.

Halfway through 'True Blue', Maddy, Di and the journalists headed for the door.

'What's with the ma.s.s exodus?' I said into my pool cue.

'It's getting late, Roo,' said Maddy. 'We're on an early flight.'

Oscar was at the bar, buying me another.

'It's only ten, Maddy. Stay for one more round!'

She shook her head and ran to catch up with Di.

At midnight, the publican called last drinks, and I tried to get down off the pool table.

'Let's get you some air,' said Oscar, lifting me. He took me by the hand and led me up a narrow staircase to what looked like an attic.

'I don't need air,' I giggled. 'I'm not as think as you drunk I am.'

Oscar opened a window and climbed outside. 'Come on, Roo.'

I stepped out onto the sloping tin roof, still warm from the sun, and looked up. 'Stars are very s.h.i.+ny.'

'Astrologists in western Queensland tonight confirmed stars are, quote, very s.h.i.+ny,' he said in his newsreader voice.