Two days out from Australia Day, JC announced that the prime minister—his friend, Tasmania’s friend—was flying in to Hobart to officially launch JC’s election campaign. And our mother went into hospital. Phillip had settled her into Calvary, the Catholic hospital she preferred, and her oncologist was monitoring her. Max had rung me to let me know and we’d all agreed to meet at JC’s.
‘Her white cell count is too low,’ Phillip explained. I had come home from another meeting on Bruny. With the school holidays nearing an end, several groups were planning a last hurrah on the bridge protest. At least I was informed, which meant JC was informed.
‘They may keep her in for a week or two,’ said Phillip. ‘She’s asked me to stock up the Hendrick’s.’
‘I’ll go see her after dinner,’ I said.
‘I’ll go in tomorrow,’ said Stephanie.
Max and JC looked at one another. We all knew their schedules. There wasn’t time for a sick mother in all this. But it would play to the sympathy vote. So who would pull that card first?
Max said, ‘How about we do a doorstop on the hospital steps together declaring our mother is unwell. We find a great picture of her—from twenty years ago. She’ll be delighted to be in the news, and we’re back on the campaign.’
JC shrugged. ‘Sounds fine,’ he said, although I could see he thought he’d missed an opportunity. But having agreed to it in front of me and Stephanie, he wasn’t going to default.
When Max and Phillip had left and Stephanie had gone upstairs, JC and I had a last drink together in his office.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘the dinner with the prime minister? Becky Walton will be there. She’s one of his advisers.’
‘Becky Walton?’
‘Rebecca Standish,’ said JC.
‘Rebecca Standish?’ I said.
‘The same.’ JC smiled. ‘She’s not married anymore but she kept his name.’
I looked at JC and a wave of memories washed over me.
‘I told her you were here,’ said JC.
‘How is she?’
‘Done well for herself. You knew she was in government, yeah? Well, now she works for the PM.’
We stood and stared out at the lights of Sandy Bay and the city.
‘Is she here often?’ I asked.
‘No … yes … a few times a year. Obviously not since you came, or I would have told you.’
‘So, how are you two these days?’ I’d remembered how he’d mentioned Becky after that first lunch with the Chinese.
JC turned away and I could feel him blushing. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I knew the way his shoulders moved when he blushed.
‘Does Stephanie know?’ I asked.
‘Know what?’
‘JC …’
‘I’ve never mentioned it.’
‘You’ve never mentioned it? Never introduced them?’
‘They’ve been introduced. Functions, you know.’
‘So Stephanie doesn’t know that this is the girl you were madly in love with for about ten years, who caused you so much grief? You’ve never mentioned that to your wife?’
‘As I said, it never came up, Ace. I told Steph the truth: she’s an old family friend. Jesus, quit with the inquisition.’
I observed my brother. ‘Once a politician, always a politician,’ I said.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Everything on a need-to-know basis. Even with your wife.’
‘Drop it, Ace. It’s nothing. It was years ago.’
I nodded, took another sip of whisky, felt it burn all the way down my throat. JC was lying.
‘Have you sold Bruny to the Chinese?’ I asked.
He did not have his face organised. I saw sheer panic and then he laughed. ‘Fuck, Ace, where did that come from?’
‘Have you sold Bruny to the Chinese?’ I repeated.
He was rattled, angry. ‘No, Ace, I haven’t sold Bruny to the Chinese.’ He sat down behind his desk.
‘You’ve done something, haven’t you?’
‘You’re paranoid, Ace. I thought you were better than that.’
‘You don’t get to turn this around,’ I said. ‘This isn’t about me. This is about you. If I find you’ve screwed me over here, JC, made me cover for some plan you’ve hatched that you’re keeping secret …’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said.
‘It’s like Becky, isn’t it?’ I said, running a finger along the edge of his desk. ‘Choosing what people need to know.’
‘Becky thought it best nobody knew. Keep the past in the past. So that’s the way it is,’ he said.
‘She still has you on the run.’
‘It’s not like that, Ace. She’s just really private. Please.’
He stood up and came around the desk, pulling me into a hug. ‘We’re on the same team, you and me. We’ve always been on the same team, Ace. Don’t let all this conspiracy shit get to you. It’s bullshit. You know how much I care about Tasmania. And Stephanie and the girls. All of it.’
Being single for so long, physical contact has become a little strange. Like I’m out of practice. I let him hug me. I sank into that big body of my twin brother and remembered for a moment what it was to stop. To find rest in another person’s affection. When we broke away, he looked emotional. I had a bad feeling about that.
There was a fine mist as I arrived at Government House, enough to wet the fronds of grass and the leaves of ferns, but not enough to fill dams. I stood for a moment in the driveway and took in the grand Georgian sandstone house and its grounds. It might have been from Citizen Kane. It looked like the home of a wealthy media magnate. The stone had been cut from a quarry on the land. The quarry had filled with rainwater over time, and was now a sunken garden and ornamental lake. I wandered over to the stairs that descended to the lake, and watched a mother duck lead nine baby ducks across the water.
‘Can we help you, madam?’ came a voice. I turned to find a man in a dark suit. Very Men in Black with his earpiece and dark glasses. He was extending a large open black umbrella to me.
‘I’m here for the reception,’ I said. Obviously, I wanted to add, my blue silk dress and high heels surely giving me away. I had already passed through security. Nothing like the old days, when guests to Government House simply had to present an embossed invitation at the front door. Now it was all photo IDs before visitors even made it inside the front gates. ‘I’ve always loved the lake.’
‘Shall we go in?’ he said. ‘We don’t want the guests getting wet.’
I sighed, lamenting the loss of my private moment, and followed him. It was the prime minister, after all. Best not to be late.
Inside the front doors, my ID was checked again and I was helped out of my coat. Then, along with several other guests, I was chaperoned along the hallway into the corner room that overlooked the Derwent River. The room was buzzing with people in conversation.
JC spotted me and indicated that I should join him. He was standing with Edward Lowe, who looked pleased to see me and kissed me on both cheeks.
JC winked at me. Then he introduced me to the governor, her husband and several parliamentary colleagues, federal and state, whom I had yet to meet, and their husbands and wives. Stephanie was in a dress of pale smoke and pearls. She is strikingly beautiful, Stephanie. She can look almost plain in her track pants and t-shirts. And then she does this. Puts her hair up, adds a little make-up, and she’s amazing. I wondered what she made of all that weight JC had gained. I wondered if she still found him attractive. She was loyal, I sure knew that about her. Well, until it came to biosecurity in Tasmania. Everyone has a point where loyalty wavers.
It had made the front page of the newspaper. bio-scandal! The whole fiasco of the cruise ships and no policing, no ability to quarantine sick passengers and get medical help to them on board. The risk of an epidemic, if they were allowed into our hospitals. It wasn’t going to die down quickly.
Max had been quoted saying that, being an island, we needed biosecurity to be robust. Fruit fly had caused millions of dollars of damage a few years back. She was committing to biosecurity at all entry points into the state, if Labor was elected. It was now a core promise of her election campaign. Code for: it may well change. I don’t mean to be cynical, but we all know that’s true.
Waiters were carrying silver trays bearing sparkling wine, beer, gin and tonics or sparkling water. I chose the sparkling water. I thought I might need my wits about me.
Then the prime minister arrived and everyone turned to gaze at him. He was a businessman before he went into politics, and he wore a multimillionaire’s suit, a shirt that cost a nurse’s weekly salary and a silk tie that probably cost four weeks of unemployment benefits. Beside him were Aid-n-Abet and Barney Viper. I reckoned Viper had maybe one more election in him before he’d be wanting to retire, which always made a politician, like a chief engineer, give acute consideration to his legacy.
And there was Rebecca Standish who had once been Becky Walton. When I’d last seen her, she’d been an earnest bespectacled student who chose study over exercise and loved Jethro Tull. She’d also been a smoker at fourteen. And she had driven JC wild. His first love. I’d seen that girl emerge from JC’s bedroom, adjust her spectacles, tighten her ponytail, and look to all the world as if she’d still be a virgin when she was forty. Now there she was, in an impeccable black evening dress and heels, a sassy pixie cut and no glasses. She had a killer curve to her figure. She remained at the PM’s side as he moved about the room and JC flanked his other side.
When the PM’s party reached me, I saw Becky’s face light up, but I discreetly shook my head in warning. She didn’t miss a beat. We shook hands as if we were distant acquaintances, and she said, ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Astrid.’
The PM said to me, ‘I hear you’ve got the community settled down.’
‘It’s a fragile truce,’ I said. In photos the PM could almost look handsome, but in real life he resembled a koala. ‘Everyone has been keen to ensure they are not suspects, Prime Minister. It’s made them a little more malleable than they might otherwise have been.’
‘Just keep them quiet for another five weeks, that will do,’ said the PM. ‘Isn’t that right, John?’
‘It is, Prime Minister,’ said JC.
Then a bell rang, and we were all ushered into the adjoining dining room.
I found my place setting. Scanning the people on either side, I saw I was between Scrutiny Australia and Scrutiny Tasmania. Scrutiny Australia was a government initiative to oversee Very Large Projects and eliminate pork-barrelling. That is, ministers putting projects into their own electorates to curry favour with voters. Scrutiny Australia was already engaged in a conversation with his local equivalent from Scrutiny Tasmania when I sat down between them. Then Rebecca Standish took her seat opposite Scrutiny Australia.
I watched her carry on a polite conversation with Scrutiny Australia while I engaged Scrutiny Tas. All the time I was remembering the cigarettes Becky and I had shared at age fourteen, the first time we had tried marijuana together (also at fourteen), the first time we had got drunk (on tequila no less, again at fourteen), the mad crush JC had on her, the sleepovers in my room where she’d climb out my window and into JC’s, climbing back into mine in the morning, always refusing to call him her boyfriend and always remaining steadfastly my friend through all kinds of dramas I’ve worked hard to forget. And then I left for university in the US. Becky had kept up the correspondence for several years after she’d moved to Canberra and landed a job at Parliament House. She’d done a Masters in politics up there and we would have had lots in common over the years, but I got weary of all the drama between her and JC. Somehow all his relationships came unstuck over her. Finally, he’d moved to the UK and there he’d met Stephanie. Becky had sent me a birthday card for many years, but things had tapered off. It had been me who had let the friendship go, along with all the other parts of Tasmania I had shed as I cemented my life overseas.
There were twenty-four at the table. JC was seated to the right of the PM with the governor to the left. Stephanie was between Edward and the Governor’s husband. Rebecca became engaged with the person beside her and Scrutiny Australia turned to me.
He was heavyset with a sinking face and kind eyes. He said he’d had a site visit at the bridge today and how amazing it was. I agreed. Then he said, quietly, that in truth it remained extraordinary to him that the government had invested so heavily in the project.
‘Didn’t you have to greenlight it?’ I asked.
‘No, that was done from above,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope it creates the kind of flood they’re all anticipating.’
‘Tourists?’ I clarified.
‘It will take half the world to get a return,’ he said. ‘But still, if it’s good for Tasmania …’
I frowned. ‘That’s a thing?’
He looked into his wineglass. ‘That’s the talk. If it’s good for Tasmania, then it’s good for Australia.’
‘I didn’t know the island had assumed such a prominent position in federal strategy.’
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘I guess it was Western Australia a few years back. Now it’s Tassie’s turn.’
We discussed the timeframe, and other major projects around the country. He shared a few pertinent stories, and I shared some too from the various hot zones over the years.
‘This must seem tepid, after all that,’ Scrutiny observed.
‘Not in the least,’ I said. ‘I always find family the most treacherous location.’
He chuckled. ‘I wondered how things were in Camelot.’
‘So, seeing as I’ve asked everyone else over the past three months,’ I said, ‘how do you feel about the level of Chinese investment in Australia?’
‘Oh, it’s not nearly as high as people make out in the media. You have to look at percentages. Gina Rinehart might have a Chinese joint venture, but only thirty per cent of that is actually from a Chinese company. I think it’s still a bit of the yellow peril. We’ve never had our major trading partner be neither a democracy nor an ally, so I think it’s wise of the PM to make them an ally. It’s the new order. Without China, this country would be in dire straits right now.’
‘And elsewhere? In the Middle East, for example?’
‘Well, China built that port in Pakistan. Now that was done for two reasons. First, to frustrate India; and second, to establish a beachhead in the Indian Ocean. No doubt China wants to extend its influence. But it’s not the same as when the US goes into Syria and says, “We’re going to regime change here.”’
‘What do you make of the Eternal Fragrant President?’ I asked.
‘Hmmm,’ he said. ‘It’s a concern for China. Strongman leadership is never a good idea. Most of them aren’t benevolent.’
‘You and I might be discussing this, but out in the suburbs Australians aren’t discussing the Chinese. Maybe not even here in Tasmania,’ he said.
‘What do you think they are discussing?’
‘Married at First Sight?’
I nodded.
‘I remember intelligent TV,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you do too. BBC. Civilisation. Brideshead Revisited. What people watch now, it’s the last days of the Roman Empire. It’s the lead in the water.’
After the main course, the governor suggested we all move about to ensure we could catch up with as many people as possible. She was a delight, this first female governor. Made diplomacy look like a warm summer breeze.
I got into a conversation with the wife of Barney Viper, who came to introduce herself. She was, apart from being in Stephanie’s book club, a member of the Tasmanian Bird Society, which supported the Bruny Friends Group—although of course being Barney’s wife, she reminded me quietly, she couldn’t say anything publicly. She said she was very appreciative of the work I’d done to align the Bruny Friends and Birdlife Bruny with a nature preservation strategy.
When dessert arrived, Viper came over and joined us. Together with Scrutiny Australia, we all discussed the bridge and how wonderful it was to see it nearing completion. An architectural feat. A triumph. A truly remarkable Australian achievement. I was thanked again for my role. And then I caught Viper gazing at Becky Walton. Becky was in conversation with JC at one end of the table.
Viper said to me, ‘We Tasmanians never fly far from the nest. Not in our hearts.’
I shrugged.
‘Useful, of course, for your brother,’ he said, in his mean oily voice, as he continued to gaze at them.
So Viper didn’t like JC having a personal line of contact with the PM. Seeing JC and Becky there together, I glanced around for Stephanie. There she was, also observing JC and Becky. Ah, I thought, she senses something. Women need to trust that instinct. We have a great radar.
Then I noticed Edward Lowe also observing JC and Becky. He had an entirely blank expression, schooled, calculating. Who are you, Edward Lowe, I wondered. Then he glanced at me and smiled.
Viper said, ‘Your brother may need you to stay on after the election. Have you made return plans?’
‘Not yet,’ I said.
‘Good,’ he replied.
Tea and coffee were served. Edward came over and we chatted for a few minutes. We arranged a lunch date for the following week. The PM took his leave and the party broke up. Edward and Becky walked ahead up the driveway to the waiting cars and cabs. They were clearly good friends. JC, Stephanie and I travelled home together, but when we got there, JC said he had to go back to the office for a bit. It was election time. Things happened day and night. He dismissed his driver and took the car. Stephanie and I chatted for a little while then said goodnight and went our separate ways to bed.
I thought of Becky feeling the piece of paper in her coat pocket. I wondered if she’d waited until she was back at her hotel room to unfold it. I had written: Meet you at the cave 5.30 am tomorrow—alone. Tell no-one. There was no number but there was a small drawing of a quarter moon.