Campaign Ruby Part 30

'My balloons have floated to the ceiling. Do you have any tongs?' I licked the over-seasoned dressing from my lips.

'Security!'

I trudged through the sprout sludge and made my way to the lift. It pinged open, revealing Max, Sh.e.l.ly and Luke. Of course.

'Roo, you're covered in salad,' pointed out Sh.e.l.ly.

'Garnish,' I said as we pa.s.sed the first floor.

Max laughed. 'Mind if I ask why?'

'Long story.'

Luke shook his head.

Ping, went the lift. I scurried to the Ladies to sc.r.a.pe the sprouts into the loo; that's where I learned that vinaigrette stings when it makes direct contact with your eyes.

'Roo, are you in here?' It was Maddy. 'I just b.u.mped into Sh.e.l.ly. She said you were covered in'-I emerged from the cubicle-'salad.'

'Garnish.'

'Archie just resigned,' she said, sniffing my cheek. 'His own decision. Press conference at the hotel in an hour.'

'I'll do it,' I said. 'Can you call Melissa Hatton and tell her to sit tight until Max has spoken?'

'Sure.'

During my second shower for the day, I thought about what I should say to Luke. It was inappropriate to apologise. I used my finger to draft a text message on the fogged-up shower gla.s.s.

Luke, sleeping with Oscar was stupid. I regret it. I just thought you should kno...

No, that was even more stupid than sleeping with Oscar. I turned off the tap, stepped out of the shower, and continued on the mirror.

Please don't think I'm something I'm not.

The fog subsided and I was faced with my own flushed reflection. I erased my handwriting with a towel, dressed and ran to set up the press conference.

An hour later, the media were rolling in. The cameras, the snappers, the journalists. Serious ones came first and used the time to study the media release, jotting down notes here and there. Then came Oscar, strutting like a peac.o.c.k.

What on earth did we find attractive about that man?

A lady I barely recognised sat in the front row. She did not read the release. She had her eyes closed, like she was meditating. 'Who's that?' I asked Di.

'That, my dear, is Anastasia Ng. She's only the greatest journo on our planet. Pretty Boy's boss. She's been on leave because her husband had surgery.' Di sighed. 'If I wasn't doing what I'm doing now, I'd want to be her. She's incredible. Incisive. Balanced. Lethal when she disapproves. Genius.'

That's the 'batty' one Oscar is going to replace?

'Is she the one who's on her way out?'

'Ng? I don't b.l.o.o.d.y think so. Sharp as a tack, that chick. There's no way anyone else could even begin to fill her shoes.'

Max strode in. 'Thanks for coming,' he said when he took to the lectern. 'I wanted to say a few quick words about my former staff member Archibald Andersen. Mr Andersen has offered me his resignation following a unilateral decision on his part to try to dig into the Prime Minister's personal life. I have accepted his resignation.

'I want it to be known that I have enormous respect for the Prime Minister. She is a competent politician and should be judged as such. I have no interest whatsoever in her personal life. It is none of my business or anybody else's.

'That is why Mr Andersen was right to offer me his resignation. Gutter politics have no place in my office or any public office. In fact, as you all know, I denounce it. My party and I are capable of tackling the government on policy and policy alone, and that's what we intend to do.

'I apologise to the Prime Minister and seek the forgiveness of the Australian people and hope we can put this behind us.

'Of course, I will take any questions you might have.'

I watched Anastasia Ng.

'Mr Masters,' said Gary Spinnaker, 'how do you expect to maintain your advertising campaign against the government's dirty tactics in the light of this scandal?'

Max answered. Anastasia was the only journalist in the room looking and listening rather than scribbling in her notepad. She was like a photojournalist, absorbing every word as though it was an image.

She took the last question. 'Did you ask for Mr Andersen's resignation or did he offer it? And if he hadn't offered it, do you think you would now be calling him a former staff member?'

Not exactly a batty question.

Max stumbled. 'I'm not going to speculate on a hypothetical. What's done is done.' He thanked everyone for their time and left with a smile plastered on his dial. Ouch. 'See what I mean?' whispered Di. 'Slice.' She followed Max out.

Oscar was too busy staring into the Mirror app on his iPhone to witness Anastasia's incision, let alone understand it.

Surely you're not going to stand by and watch Pretty Boy screw over another smart woman, are you?

No. I'm not.

Hallway of shame.

I rolled over: 2.53 a.m. Blast. I begged my bladder to hold out for another hour. I tried to get back to sleep, but when my smooth leg encountered a hairy one I wondered whether it might belong to someone else. No such luck: just a fatigued shaving omission from the night before. Grumpily, I staggered out of bed and felt my way around the dark hotel room. My bare hip hit a sharp corner. 'Ouch.' I rubbed the newest bruise of my collection.

Mercifully, I had remembered to leave the bathroom light on, a trick of the trade to help steer weary campaigners through uncharted hotel rooms.

I edged towards the lit strip of carpet before me, closed my eyes and opened the door. It sprang shut behind me. 'What sort of daft designer carpets a hotel bathroom?' I wondered aloud. I blinked the coloured stars away, waiting for my pupils to adjust.

This was either the longest bathroom known to man or I was standing in the seventeenth-floor hallway. I tried the door to my room behind me. No joy. In vain, felt my side pockets for the key. No key. No pockets. No bottoms, in fact. Just frayed cotton knickers, a b.u.t.tock-sc.r.a.ping Financial Services Authority T-s.h.i.+rt and one shaven leg. c.r.a.p.

Using both hands to stretch my T-s.h.i.+rt down to micro-mini level, I waddled to the lift and prayed for an empty lobby. Ping pong, sang the lift. Its doors opened and I stumbled in. My nose hit the G b.u.t.ton. I pictured the security guard spraying his coffee at the screen as he watched my misfortune unfold. Mirrored walls gave an unflattering multifaceted view of my sleeping ensemble. Two knotted tufts of hair stood at an acute angle to my scalp. A rivulet of drying dribble had escaped my mouth. Still holding down the FSA, I made use of my shoulder to wipe it off. Mission impossible.

Ping pong. My shaven leg held the lift open. A vacuum cleaner growled around the corner, followed by a uniformed young woman.

'h.e.l.lo,' I yelled above the hullaballoo.

'Hullo,' she said, turning off the machine.

'Oh, thank G.o.d,' I said. 'Would you mind asking them to cut a new key for room 1707?'

'Hullo?' she asked, looking very concerned.

I raised my voice. 'h.e.l.lo again. I've locked myself out of my hotel room. Would you-'

'No speck in goulash. Surry.' She looked very nervous.

It's remarkably difficult to use body language hands-free. With thumb and forefinger I tried to indicate pus.h.i.+ng the keycard into a slot and removing it.

'No key. Key. I need key.'

'Surry, no, funk you.' She shook her head and wheeled her vacuum away.

'Funk you too,' I said. c.r.a.ppest of c.r.a.ps.

'h.e.l.lo? If someone is there, please come to the lift.'

Why preface it with 'if someone is there'? If someone is there, they'll hear you. If no one is there, they won't.

Shut up, head.

I thought we were going to the loo.

Shut up, bladder.

'h.e.l.lo?' said a voice, probably male, but I hoped female with laryngitis.

'I'm in the lift.'

Footsteps approached. Salvation nigh, I gripped the hem, yanking it as low as it would go without warping my unconstrained b.o.o.bs.

'Roo?'

c.r.a.ppest c.r.a.p of c.r.a.ps. 'Luke?'

My elbow reached for a b.u.t.ton bearing two inward-facing arrows. Success, albeit accompanied by Luke's laughter. I pressed 17. INSERT CARD HERE , read a sign beneath an empty slot. c.r.a.ppest c.r.a.p of c.r.a.ppest c.r.a.ps.

Ping pong. The doors opened, revealing the lobby once more. There was a mixture of pity and amus.e.m.e.nt in Luke's smile.

I did my best to tuck myself into the corner so that he could see only my head around the doors.

'Um, your reflection...' 'Avert your eyes.'

He obeyed. 'Here, put this on.' He handed me his suit jacket. I closed the lift and put on the jacket.

My head laughed. Don't you think it's ironic that you've been saved from a dire wardrobe malfunction by something that should be on the set of Miami Vice?

Instinctively, I pushed up the sleeves.

Ping pong.

'Hi.'

'Hi.' He blushed, bringing colour to his ashen, unshaven face.

'I locked myself out of my hotel room,' I said, putting my smoothest leg forwards. Then I shuffled out of the lift to escape the hall of mirrors. 'Don't ask.'

'I'll get another one cut for you.'

He left, giving me enough time to hide my bottom half behind a well-placed umbrella stand.

'Shouldn't be long,' he said when he returned. 'I feel overdressed.' He undid his collar and slid off a pink gingham tie.

'Why are you in the lobby at 3 a.m.?'

'I just got back from the LOO's place. We've redrafted the launch speech.'

'Good?'

'Brilliant.'

'You look shattered, Luke.'

'No offence, Roo, but you're not really in a position to be commenting on appearances...not that you're... because you're...'

'Listen,' I chanced, 'I understand that Di told you about me and Oscar Franklin.'

'Roo, I don't need to know.' His smile evaporated. 'It's none of my business. You don't need to explain.'

'I know, but I'd like to. It was the kind of mistake you make once. I choked on-'

He held up his hand to mute me.

But it was an important sentence to finish, so I said, 'Eye candy-I choked on eye candy and it didn't even taste good.'

That sounded much better in here, said my head.

There was a terrible silence. If my hand hadn't been helping gravity with his jacket flap, it would have slapped my forehead.

He slid down the wall he was leaning against and sat on the floor in front of me, holding his head in his hands. This was a good thing, because if he had been looking up, my bristly s.h.i.+n would have been in full view. I swapped legs again just in case.

'I missed my kid's parentteacher interview tonight,' he said finally. 'Again.'

'Your kid?'