Part 33 (1/2)

'Cheers,' I said, thinking that this wasn't something we should be drinking to.

Maddy checked the news online. 's.h.i.+t. One of the snappers has a shot of a shadow minister holding a brief face-up. They've zoomed in on it-it's full of lines. We always cover this in media training. Do not under any circ.u.mstances be photographed holding a doc.u.ment face-up. Any camera will be able to pick up content. She's a shadow minister, for crying out loud.'

'Did they get anything controversial?'

'Just bits and pieces to do with her portfolio. She's got stuff in there on family law, unemployment benefits, adoption for singles and gay couples.'

'What does it say about gay adoption?'

'Just party policy. What we agreed at national conference.'

'Which was?'

Maddy looked up. 'We don't support adoption- international or local-for gay and single parents.'

My stomach churned. 'Why not?'

'I dunno, Roo. We just don't. The other side doesn't either. It's contentious. I guess if anything we're lucky her stupid brief stuck to policy. n.o.body's picking it up-it's a pretty small story in the scheme of things-'

'I'm sorry, why does the party have a problem with single or gay people adopting children?'

She looked at me like I was losing the plot. 'Seriously, mate,' she said, 'I've got no b.l.o.o.d.y clue. I'm just the advancer.'

'Well, who can I talk to about this? It's ridiculous and it needs to be fixed.'

'Um, Roo.' She put her hand on my shoulder. 'I know how you feel-we're all a bit jumpy at the moment. Let's get another daiquiri.'

'I'm not jumpy,' I said. 'If you'd told me this on Day One I'd have said the same thing. I'm not going to support a party that doesn't SUPPORT THE rights of people to parent.' The churning fast became nausea. 'I need to get some air.'

'How much more air do you need? We're on the b.l.o.o.d.y roof!'

'A lot,' I said. I ran inside and into the Ladies. Sitting on the loo lid in the corner cubicle, I came to terms with what I had done. How could I have been so stupid as to not ask the fundamental questions before throwing my weight behind something like this? There was so much more I needed to know. Where did the party stand on the environment? And what about higher education? Affordable housing? Genetically modified food? It felt like I'd married a stranger in Vegas.

Pull yourself together, Ruby, said my head. This doesn't change anything. But it had. Everything was different. That lovely man who'd taken time out of his day to speak to my five-year-old niece was the same man who would deny my aunts the opportunity to love a child of their own. It was baffling.

I called Daphne to confess.

'Ruby, darling, it's so wonderful to hear from you. What should we wear tomorrow night? Is it likely to be formal?'

'I can't do it anymore, Daphne. I'm truly sorry. I didn't realise...I didn't realise I was working for a bunch of bigots.' A simmering tear plopped onto my lap.

'How so?'

'You mightn't have seen the news, but today I learned the party's position on gay adoption,' I sniffed. 'I can't keep working now that I know.'

'Ruby, that is the sweetest and most stupid thing I've ever heard,' she laughed. 'What difference can you possibly make by heckling from the outside?'

'But, by staying here, aren't I endorsing their position?'

'I don't think so,' she said. 'In fact, you'd be doing us all a favour if you kept going. Stay there. Be a challenging voice. So long as you know that your team would do a better job than the other team, I think that's something worth fighting for. Don't you?'

'I suppose.'

'Now, let's get onto some important questions. What should I wear tomorrow night?'

I laughed. 'You look beautiful in purple, which happens to be the party's colour.'

'I have a plummy beaded wrap dress. Would that work?'

'Sounds lovely.'

'Now get back to work-we want to have something to celebrate tomorrow night.'

'You'll be the best mum one day, Aunt Daphne.'

A square of loo roll absorbed the dampness on my cheeks and I went to rejoin Maddy. Beryl and her husband had flown up from Canberra. Senator Flight, her husband, various offspring and bursting belly hovered around the chips and dip.

Theo was wearing a Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt. 'We're going to win this, Roo,' he said. 'I've got my lucky s.h.i.+rt on.'

As the sun went down, the roof heaved with colleagues, most of whom I knew by email only. The LOO, Sh.e.l.ly and Abigail arrived with Luke. Max took to the centre of the roof with beer in hand. He seemed reinvigorated and opened his mouth to address his supporters.

'Shoosh, darling,' said Sh.e.l.ly, moving to stand in front of him. 'It's my turn. Thank you for all your hard work. If we don't win tomorrow, it won't be for want of trying. People think this is Max's journey alone. It's not. It belongs as much to you and your families as it does to Max and his. Abigail and I, with the combined technical prowess of Maddy and Roo, wanted you all to see our journey. And, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask my husband to dance, because this was the song we danced to on our wedding day. I'd encourage you all to do the same. Kill the lights.'

'Yeah,' said Max, 'what she said.' He kissed his wife and accepted her invitation, collapsing into her arms. Against the soft light of our projected journey, they danced like newlyweds to Elton and his ivories.

Di took Luke; Maddy, Abigail; and Hawaiian Theo, me. The rest followed. Too tired to bust a move, we swayed in each other's arms, occasionally joining in for the chorus. 'Wanna swap?' asked Di at the bridge. 'You're welcome to Luke.'

A dejected Luke extended his hand. I kicked off my Up Yours, Oscars and went with it.

His bad suit smelled like the promise of rain. His fingers played my lower back like a piano. He hummed the tune, his chin on my head, the sound reverberating between his jaw and my crown.

'Luke?'

'Hmm?'

'What's our position on genetically modified foods?'

'Shut up, beautiful.' He held me closer, so I did.

Desperate and voteless.

I didn't wake up because I didn't sleep. Two things kept me awake. First, Elton John. Second, the fact that I was thinking about Elton John and not about the election. It was an insane-making cycle. The tune would play (mostly without the right lyrics) then my head would scratch the vinyl.

Why in G.o.d's name are you awake? Tomorrow is the biggest day of your career and you're lying here with a forty-year-old ballad on loop in your frontal lobe...

And then we'd go back to the piano interlude and so on until 4 a.m. when the newspapers thudded onto the carpet outside my hotel room door.