Part 31 (1/2)

The finger painting. Sun, house, cat, man, child. Woman?

'Yep. Daniel. He's nine. I missed it.'

'I didn't know you have children.'

'Child. Just the one.'

'Well, Daniel probably appreciated it as a gesture of trust. I used to dread parentteacher night.'

His smile returned. 'You're right: Dan's fine. Bella, on the other hand-'

'Your wife?' I breathed in.

He rubbed his bare finger. 'My ex.'

I breathed out. 'How do you cope doing your job and being a parent? I don't even have a goldfish and find it difficult enough to balance things.'

'That's the point-I don't cope. I suck at multi-tasking. I can't keep going like this.' He sighed. 'Win or lose the election, this is it for me.'

'You can't be serious,' I said. 'If we win, you'd walk away? Just like that?'

'No, not just like that. Don't get me wrong: it's a b.l.o.o.d.y tough call, but it shouldn't be a tougher call for me to walk away from my job than it is to walk away from my son.'

'Sir,' said the man on the front desk, 'Miss Stanhope's room key is ready.'

'Thanks, mate.' He dragged himself to his feet.

In the lift, Luke said, 'I shouldn't have said all of that. I don't want to stress Max out before the election so I haven't told him yet.'

'My lips are sealed.'

Ping pong.

'Thanks for the jacket.' I handed it back to him.

'You're welcome. See you in an hour.' He walked towards his hotel room. 'And Roo?'

'Mm?' I said, looking over my shoulder.

'Thanks for listening.'

'My pleasure.'

I inserted the new key. The green light flashed approvingly. I turned on the lights, ran for the loo and added 'buy pyjama pants' to my To Do list.

The Launch.

'Why are we launching the campaign twenty-five days in?' I whispered to Maddy backstage.

She rolled her eyes. 'Shhh.'

'Definitionally,' I said, 'a launch marks the commencement of something. A rocket can't go into orbit until somebody says ”We have lift off.” This campaign has already lifted off.'

'What about s.h.i.+ps?'

'What about s.h.i.+ps?'

She leaned in closer. 'Are you telling me that every time a boat named after one of her ancestors is built, Her Majesty steps into her overalls, picks up a bottle of Yellowglen from the Windsor bottle-o and pops up to a Liverpudlian dry dock to scream ”bon voyage” over the PA system?'

'Yellow what from the Windsor what?'

'Shoosh,' she said. Max stood beside us. The pages of his speech were tightly rolled into a tube. He stared at the floor, his fingers fidgety with adrenaline.

An elderly man approached the stage. Abigail got out of her seat to help him up the stairs. He wore a grey suit with a purple MASTERS FOR PM badge on his lapel. The audience clapped. When he reached the lectern, he said, 'h.e.l.lo, everybody, my name is Frank and I'm pleased to introduce a boy who loves his country.'

The crowd went quiet.

'When he was eight, he had to write an a.s.signment for school about careers. The other kids wrote that they wanted to be ballerinas or firemen. This particular kid said he wanted to serve his country. He got a C on the a.s.signment because apparently that wasn't a career, but, boy, did he prove them wrong.

'At age seventeen, he borrowed my late wife's Datsun and drove to Melbourne to join the navy. There, he served for decades, both here and abroad, before an injury made it difficult to continue.

'But his a.s.signment was still clear. Now he seeks the highest office of service for his country, and I couldn't be prouder of him.'

Max looked up, his fingers still.

Frank's voice broke a little, but he re-established composure. 'He's a man of conviction, courage and integrity. He's my son, Max Masters, the Leader of the Opposition and next prime minister of Australia.'

The crowed erupted into spine-tingling applause, the kind you could feel. Max moved across the stage and into his dad's arms. The flas.h.i.+ng cameras were blinding, but I could just make out the tear stains on Milly's emerald silk tunic as her dad introduced her baby brother.

'Thanks, Dad,' said Max, when we had all calmed down.

I studied the audience as Max spoke. People laughed, nodded, clapped, cheered and, at the end, stood up. Hardened hacks were stirred to their feet. When our hands tingled from being smashed together, Sh.e.l.ly, Milly, Abigail and her grandpa joined Max on stage, so we clapped until our palms throbbed.

Afterwards, Max sat calmly in a chair with a salad sandwich and cup of tea. 'How do you think it went?'

Luke, who like Max and Theo was operating on no sleep, could scarcely contain himself. 'It couldn't have been better.'

Sh.e.l.ly squeezed her husband's knee. 'It was the best speech you've ever given.'

Max smiled. 'Thanks, sweetheart.'

'I'm glad we did the redraft last night,' said Theo. 'There was a standing ovation when you talked about gutter politics. It could have been a disaster after the s.h.i.+t sandwich Archie served us.'

Maddy nudged him, gesturing to Abigail.