Campaign Ruby Part 26

Bruce put the blue pen back in his sock and pulled out a red one.

I went on. 'Isn't that astonis.h.i.+ng? I never thought for a minute I would find myself working for nothing in Australian politics. I came out here for a holiday and thought I'd return to London with a few cases of wine as a souvenir and settle back into something in private equity, perhaps. Then I met Luke, who saw something in me that I didn't see in myself.'

'Miss Stanhope-'

'Hang on, Bruce, this is important. Banking didn't make me happy. I was good at it but I didn't love it. It wasn't my bread. And here I am now with nothing but food and board and an empty bank account, but the work is so fulfilling that I've barely noticed my financial situation. And that, Bruce, is why I don't have the right visa.'

'Do you have access to a solicitor, Miss Stanhope?'

'Ruby, mate,' said Debs when I rang. 'I'm in a meeting right now; can I call you back?'

'I would say yes but I'm in a meeting too. With an Immigration official at Melbourne Airport who has just asked if I have access to a lawyer.'

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph,' she said. 'I'll be there in thirty minutes max. Don't say anything. Not a word. Shut the f.u.c.k up.'

Sure enough, thirty minutes later, she marched into the room entirely unfl.u.s.tered, threw her briefcase onto the table and said, 'Deborah Llewellyn, acting for Ruby Stanhope-would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with my client?'

'Please.' He shut the door behind him.

'Thanks for coming at such short notice,' I said as she took Bruce's chair opposite me.

'No worries,' she said, looking under the table. 'Are those my pants?'

'Yes,' I said. There was no point in denying it.

'And s.h.i.+rt?'

'Yes.' After a week in Tasmania, they were the only clean items in my Samsonite other than a bikini and sarong.

'Why are you being questioned by an Immigration officer?'

'I forgot to complete my working visa application form so Bruce says I've violated my conditions of entry.'

'Who's Bruce?'

'The long-socked man outside.'

'What kind of man wears long socks?'

'Bruce and highlanders in kilts with sporrans.'

'Does Bruce wear a sporran?'

'Maybe on weekends. He seems to use his socks to store pens and his gla.s.ses case, so he probably doesn't need one. Listen, Debs, can we go back to how I'm going to get out of this situation?'

'I'm no immigration lawyer, kiddo-there's no money in it-but I watch enough Border Protection to know that you're probably going to be asked to leave the country.'

'But, you see, I can't leave the country because we have an election in'-I counted my fingers-'exactly twelve days, and Fran and Clem are arriving tomorrow.'

'Bruce doesn't strike me as the kind of public servant who would find either of those arguments compelling.'

'Surely people do this sort of thing all the time. They can't all be deported. Do you think they'll seize my a.s.sets? Hopefully they won't touch my shoes. I hardly have a cent to my name, having forgotten to sign my employment contract...'

'Hang on, cupcake.' She stopped rocking on her chair. 'Are you telling me you're not actually employed?'

'Technically, no. That is to say, I tell people I work for Max Masters, I travel around the country on his plane, I keep expense receipts for the party to reimburse me-I must add that to my list-but I've never been paid by them.'

'Let me make a few calls, kiddo. Stay here. Calm down. Don't talk to Bruce.' She left the room.

My BlackBerry vibrated violently across the table, but I couldn't answer it. I could barely breathe. I don't want to go, I thought. I can't leave before the election. I've worked so hard for it. I want to win it and then I want to work for the government. The idea of missing the election because of a stupid administrative oversight was nauseating. I paced the perimeter of the small room.

I barely noticed that Debs was back. 'Ruby, stop pacing and sit down.'

I did.

'At the table, kiddo.'

I got up off the floor and took my seat opposite her.

'I have a possible solution. Apparently we can argue you haven't violated the terms of your visa because you were working in a voluntary capacity, but you'll have to forgo remuneration for the period worked until your new visa is valid.'

'Fine.'

'We can then rush your working visa through, but to do that we need two things. Your employer needs to verify that you were never paid and sponsor your new visa application.'

'That's great news,' I squealed, teary-eyed. 'Let's do it!'

'Settle, petal,' she said. 'I've spoken to Bruce about it and he reckons that would be okay by him on the condition that your employer or a representative of your employer comes here to vouch for the sponsors.h.i.+p arrangement.'

'Now?'

'Yes. And I'll need my pants and s.h.i.+rt back, preferably dry-cleaned, by way of legal fees.'

I nodded.

'Get someone over here pretty quickly-I'm due in court in two hours.'

I called Beryl to ask who was in Melbourne. 'Your options are Max or Luke,' she said. 'I don't like your chances.'

It would have to be Luke.

He answered in a harsh whisper. 'Is it urgent, Roo? I'm at the LOO's house discussing logistics for the launch.'

'I'd call it urgent,' I said. 'You see, I'm facing possible deportation unless I can show Immigration that I haven't been paid for my work to date and that my employer will sponsor my working visa application. They need someone in person.'

His voice m.u.f.fled as he put a hand over the phone. 'I have to go out for an hour-something urgent has come up, but it's nothing to worry about.' I heard footsteps. Louder. 'Where are you?' A car door shut.

'The Immigration office at Melbourne Airport with a long-socked man called Bruce and my lawyer.'

'I'm on my way.'

He wasn't angry per se, just a bit stressed, when he arrived. He looked different in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt: better somehow. 'Are you okay?' He grabbed my shoulders.

'I'm fine.' I couldn't look him in the eye, so I focused on his chest. His T-s.h.i.+rt had a tiny label st.i.tched into it. Huge Boss. 'You must regret hiring me sometimes. I'm more trouble than I'm worth.'

'I'm told we got the last three weeks of you for free, so we're about even.'

My head hung.

He squeezed my shoulders tighter. 'I'm kidding, Roo. I can't believe I almost lost...Deborah Lewellyn?'

'Little Lukey Harley,' roared Debs and slapped him on the back.

'Are you doing immigration law now, you big softy?'

'Not a chance, mate. Feet still firmly in the commercial camp. Just helping out my partner's niece.'

Bruce tapped his foot. 'I take it you propose to employ this woman, Lukey?'

'Sorry, yes, Luke Harley's my name-I'm the Chief of Staff to the Leader of the Opposition.' He handed over a card. 'I'm sorry for the confusion here, officer. We were under the impression that Miss Stanhope had all her paperwork in order. We appreciate your vigilance.'

Bruce's chest puffed visibly when Luke addressed him by his t.i.tle. 'Just doing my job,' he said. 'And are you in a position to sponsor Miss Stanhope's working visa, which ent.i.tles her to work in your employ for a maximum of twelve months in this country?'

'Yes,' said Luke, looking at me, 'I am.'

'Well, he's not in a position to sponsor her,' corrected Debs. 'His office is.'

'That's what I meant,' said Luke.

'In that case,' sighed Bruce, licking his index finger to turn the page of a form, 'this is slightly unorthodox but just sign here to say so and I will release Miss Stanhope.'

I embraced Luke. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.'

'It's my pleasure.'

'Miss Stanhope, I need you to go directly to the Immigration Department in the city and fill out some paperwork. You are not ent.i.tled to do anything other than voluntary work until you have your working visa. Am I clear?'

'Understood. Thank you, Officer Bruce.'

Debs picked up her briefcase. 'Right, I'm off. Can you find the Immigration Department without getting detained by other authorities along the way?'

'I'll take her,' said Luke. 'I've got my car here.'

'It's fine,' I said. 'I can take a taxi.'

'Come with me, Roo.'

'Yes, boss.'

Later at the department it became clear that Bruce's socks were standard issue for gentleman bureaucrats. I took a number: 483F to be precise.

'You can go now,' I said to Luke. 'It'll be a long afternoon.'

'Shut up and fill in those forms.' Luke took phone calls from his lime-green plastic chair in the waiting room while I had a 47-minute discussion with Barry about my eligibility for an F78V43, apparently known in the trade as an 'Effer.' When Barry knew more about me than I did, Luke took me back to Treasury Place.

'I'm glad you're not leaving,' he said between drafting emails in the lift. 'Please try to avoid deportation in future.'

Crossed.

Wherever I go in life, I will always have a mental snapshot of my sister pus.h.i.+ng her luggage trolley into the arrivals hall at Tullamarine. She had faded and shrunk in the last few weeks. Her usually plump, pink lips were mauve and chapped. The s.h.i.+ny thick mane she so often swept into a loose bun was now a dull tuft. Her rosy skin was as white and thin as paper. She was still beautiful, but Mark's infidelity had aged her and I hated him for it.

Clem on the other hand was exactly as I'd left her, minus two teeth. Her Wiggles knapsack bobbing up and down, she ran to me with a gappy grin, my birthday gift faux pas apparently forgotten. 'h.e.l.lo, Aunty Wooby. Mummy said it's already tomorrow in Australia and that we've been on fast forward for eleven hours.'

'Mummy's right, Clem.' I cuddled her tiny body. 'I can't tell you how good it is to see you.'

'Why not?' she asked.

'It's an expression,' I explained.

She looked up at the ceiling in confusion. Her mother let go of the trolley, like an old lady letting go of her Zimmer frame, and flopped into my arms.

'I'm so sorry he did this to you,' I said quietly. It seemed insufficient.

'It's good to be held,' she said into my neck. I felt the moistness of a tear.

'Who's that lady?' Clem pointed behind us.

'Manners, Clementine,' growled Fran, still in my arms.

'I'm your great aunt, Clementine,' Daphne said. 'You can call me Daphne.'

'What makes you great?' asked Clem.

'Years, my dear. Many, many years.'

'Can I see your puppies?' She bounced with excitement.

'Clementine.' My sister's remaining kilojoules of energy seeped out with every utterance of her daughter's name.

'Soon, dear,' smiled Daphne. 'They're looking forward to meeting you.'

Daphne exchanged kisses with Fran. 'How was the flight?'