So he created a new budget, working on the theory there was only half what had been available. It meant a lot of tweaking of the communication side of things, but he didn’t have to change the face-to-face work with women too much.
Once it was all tidied up and looked good, he set off to the Senate side of the house to drop it into the parliamentary secretary’s office. He quite liked senators as a general rule—because they weren’t in the lower house, they couldn’t be prime minister, so their ambitions were set on different things and that made them interesting.
Ahead of him, a woman stepped out of an office. She had a sheaf of papers in her arms and she paused to leaf through them. The goddess. Alec smiled. Finally, he had a clue as to who she was.
He walked forward. ‘Good morning.’
She looked up and frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’ Then her eyes widened. ‘Are you stalking me? You did follow me home, didn’t you?’
Alarmed, Alec raised both his hands. ‘This is coincidence, I assure you. I am here to drop off some papers for the Parliamentary Secretary for Mental Health. If you hadn’t stepped out of your office just now, I would never have known you work in this part of the building. And I swear I followed someone else home, and just happened to be outside your building when you arrived. No stalking. You’re not interested, I get that. A shame, because I have no doubt we’d be magnificent together.’
The stiffness in her body lessened—it seemed she believed him—although she held the papers to her chest like a shield. ‘How can you think we’d be magnificent together when we don’t know each other?’
‘Then we should. I’m Alec Moncrieff.’
‘I know who you are.’
‘And I know nothing about you.’
‘I’d like to keep it that way.’
‘Ouch.’ Alec held his chest as if he had been shot. ‘What have I done to make you hate me so?’
‘In the interests of fairness, I will say I do not hate you. I just do not believe it is worth having a conversation with you.’
‘Because?’
‘You are you and I am me.’ Alec let his confusion show on his face. ‘You are one of them and I am one of us.’
‘Does that really matter?’
Her eyes almost bulged out of her head. ‘Does that really matter?’ She stepped closer and he could smell her sweet, floral perfume. ‘We work in Parliament House. Our jobs are based on party politics, on who wins government and who doesn’t, and you ask if our political persuasions really matter?’
‘There are loads of mixed marriages.’
‘Out there where it doesn’t matter, sure. But in here, where career advancement can depend on how committed you are to party policy—’
‘How committed you appear to be to party policy,’ Alec corrected.
His dove blinked. ‘Aren’t you committed? The talk over here is that you will never budge from your side.’
‘You can’t assume a person’s commitment to working for one side or the other is because of a belief in policy.’
‘Well, in my case, it is. And I do not intend to remain the policy adviser of a recently promoted senator. So dating someone like you is out of the question.’
Alec smiled. ‘A woman of ambition. I love it. Where do you see yourself? No, let me consider. You’re beautiful. Passionate. Articulate. Strong. Determined. Ambitious. Ah. You are going to be Prime Minister one day.’
‘I rather think it’s a bit much to be aiming for the prime minister’s office at this stage of my career,’ she murmured, but her eyes were bright and her lips were twisting as if they wanted to smile.
‘I can see it. You’d be calm in a crisis, passionate in standing for what you believe in and all the idiots in the party will fall at your feet for a smile.’ She rolled her eyes at that one. ‘It’s true. I can see it now. Blank for PM.’ He looked at her hopefully.
‘Tina,’ she said.
Oh, the name. A horrible name, but a name. ‘Tina...’
‘Carter.’
‘Tina Carter for PM.’ Alec frowned. ‘Not sure I like the ring of that. Dare I hope Tina is short for Christina? That works. Christina Carter for PM.’
‘It’s not short for Christina.’
‘But it is short for something. Come on. In the interests of fairness...’
Tina sighed. ‘In the interests of fairness, it is short for Ernestine.’
‘Oh. You poor thing. My sympathies. What was your mother thinking?’
‘I believe she was thinking she wanted to honour her recently departed father.’
‘As she should. But it’s no name for a prime minister. Ernestine Carter. No, we need to find something else. What’s your middle name?’
‘I really do have better things to do than stand here, Mr Moncrieff.’ Tina shifted the papers in her arms.
‘Come on. Just this. I want to help you become PM. You’d be smashing. What’s your middle name?’
A pause. ‘Cecily.’
‘Cecily. Cecily Carter for PM. It’s perfect. From now on, you shall be known as Cecily.’
‘You can’t just change my name.’
‘Of course I can. Do you think I was christened Alec?’
He saw intrigue, curiosity, enter her gaze. ‘What were you christened?’
‘Alecksander. And not Alexander, with an x, like everyone else. No, my mother wanted me to be unique, so she spelt it A L E C K S ander. Thank goodness the internet didn’t exist then and she hadn’t been able to Google and realise it’s not unique. Lord only knows what I would have ended up with. Anyway, it only took a few weeks of my university life trying to explain it wasn’t with an X before I cut it to Alec and there it has stayed. I doubt anyone in this building knows the truth. Except you.’
‘You have to give it to your mother. She did end up with a very unique son.’
Alec grinned. ‘Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. And now, I have kept us both from our work long enough. Have a good day, Prime Minister Carter.’
Alec bowed his head, then continued along the corridor, whistling. He didn’t think he had changed her mind about dating him, but at least he knew she didn’t hate him. That was a great thing.
Lunch with John was at the Shanghai Dumpling Café. Seeing John sitting there, letting the sadness hit his face because he thought he wasn’t being watched, Alec almost wanted to call it off. But he didn’t.
‘Good afternoon old chap.’ Alec slid into the booth. ‘Hope your morning is going well.’
‘Brilliantly, thank you.’ John smiled, now no sign of the sadness that had gripped him.
‘Excellent, excellent. And your weekend? Didn’t lose too much sleep worrying about the ribbing I am about to give you?’
‘Didn’t lose any sleep at all, old chap.’
‘Well, that’s a shame. I must be losing my touch.’
They ordered the food, and then Alec leant back in his chair. ‘What to begin with. Mentor John, the fantasy character. The married woman? Or perhaps the fact you lied to me?’
John frowned. ‘I did not lie to you.’
‘You left the dinner with Gwen.’
‘Gwen? Who are you talking about?’
Alec leant forward. ‘My Gwen. I am distinctly unhappy with you, John Worthing, because you have made her unhappy.’
‘Really?’ For a moment John’s face looked hopeful as he couldn’t hold back the response. Then he realised what he had done. ‘Dammit.’
‘I can get why you lied to me. I would have done the same. Although I shall never forgive you for the lunch meetings. I know Gwen actually put them into my computer, but it was your idea. Gwen isn’t that nasty.’
‘Actually, she was extremely enthusiastic about the whole thing.’
‘But your idea. If she had come up with it, the meetings would have been morning or afternoon, not lunch. I can’t even be mad at you for hooking up with her, because who can resist a beautiful woman in an evening gown? But to continue to, to stay wit
h her, to allow her fondness to grow when you knew it was destined for failure...’
‘There are plenty of mixed relationships that work.’
‘In the house?’
‘Maybe we could have been the first?’ Alec looked at him. John sighed. ‘I know. I was stupid. I hoped it just wouldn’t be a problem, or if we decided it was, we’d work a way out. I didn’t know that Gwen would dump me at the first hurdle.’
John’s shoulders slumped and Alec realised he had come to care for Gwen as well. ‘Old boy. You’ve done a foolish thing and hurt two people in the process. Let it be a lesson to us all.’
‘Yes. Mixed relationships do not work.’
‘Oh, I don’t think that. I think they can work. But it’s got to be the right people, handled the right way.’
John frowned. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of that girl. Because I told you—’
‘Yes, you told me. And Gwen told me. And this morning, she told me herself. A shame none of you have the faith that I do.’
John sat bolt upright. ‘You talked to her?’
‘Ran into her in the corridor. You know, considering the number of people in that building, the chances of running into someone specific are very low, and yet I did. If I believed in fate—’
‘You don’t.’
‘I don’t, and I know that without her willingness, there will be no relationship.’
‘You aren’t to cajole her into willingness.’
‘I don’t believe I can. Cecily is a woman who knows her own mind. She’s going to be great one day, you know.’
‘As long as you leave her to it.’
‘Of course. Now, let’s celebrate the arrival of these magnificent dumplings with a good round of teasing you about being a mentor. For starters, I brought you this.’ Alec reached down beside him and pulled the hat out.
‘What the hell is that?’
‘A scout leader’s hat. Dib dib dib, dob dob dob and all that. I know you don’t have the sense of style to have organised yourself a mentor’s uniform, so I thought I’d help you.’
John popped a dumpling in his mouth. ‘Eat, before they get cold. I’d rather kill you on a full stomach.’
Alec grinned as he did so.
Cecily
It was gaming night, but for the first time, Cecily didn’t feel like playing. Instead, her mind was taken up with Alec Moncrieff.
She’d known exactly who he was when she saw him standing in the corner of the party drinks on Friday night. John had been thorough in her political induction; ensuring she knew one of the savviest political operators in the building, even if he did work for the other side, had been important to him. She knew that he currently worked for Barry Fisher, but he’d previously worked for the Minister of Finance where he’d engineered the response to the global financial crisis, one of the most politically divisive and brilliant policies of the past government. Alec understood the system, the people within it and how to get what he wanted, and he’d given a masterclass on that in getting the policy through parliament.
She had thought that when John finally noticed him, Alec would immediately be turfed out, so she’d been astonished when after several heated words, John had gone to the bar to get him a drink. Alec even had John under his heel.
Cecily had to approach him. It was foolish—she shouldn’t bring herself to the attention of an operator like Alec Moncrieff—but she’d been unable to stop herself wanting to see him up close.
He was good looking but up close he was amazing. The blonde hair was somehow the perfect mix of precisely placed and effortlessly casual. His blue eyes speared you and made you want to divulge your soul. When he smiled, you were ready to lay all your secrets bare.
Alec Moncrieff was a dangerous, dangerous man.
When he’d left, John had pulled her aside. ‘Why did you talk to him?’
‘I wanted to get an idea of the power of a political genius,’ Cecily said.
‘Well, stay away from him. You have the potential for a glittering career in the party, Cecily. He could ruin all of that.’
Of course, she knew that. Alec Moncrieff was completely off limits. But a girl could fantasise. About Alec seeing the error of his ways, joining their party. The two of them as an unstoppable team. And him smiling only at her.
Then the conversation with Gwen on Saturday which revealed Alec had been stalking her. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to run screaming from the rooftop. Hearing that had awoken all the horrible memories of her childhood, of feeling hunted and trapped by foster fathers that wanted to love her in a very special way.
Once she’d been sure Gwen wouldn’t see, Cecily had raced down to her apartment and packed. Just one suitcase, for an easy getaway. She’d got a taxi to the Vibe Hotel at the airport as a stopping point while she worked out where to go, to escape.
Over time, the panic had eased and she’d been able to think clearly. The first thing she decided was that she wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t a little girl with limited options any more. She was a strong woman, who could make her own life. The building was secure, and her apartment had a good strong door and multiple locks. She was relatively safe from whatever Alec Moncrieff was planning.
The second thing was that she’d contact the police first thing Monday morning and apply for a restraining order against Alec. Then she’d let the powers that be on her side of politics know what he had done. No doubt they could put pressure on the other side to let a slimeball like Alec go. Perhaps losing his job would teach him he couldn’t creep on women.
The third thing was that this was an airport hotel, and that meant in the bar downstairs were probably some men just travelling through and looking for a little fun. Controlling her sexuality and deciding for herself who she did and didn’t sleep with always made Cecily feel better.
She’d gone downstairs and found a salesman stuck overnight by a cancelled flight who was looking for some fun. A night of wild anonymous sex and she’d returned home Sunday morning feeling powerful and ready for anything the universe could send her.
She’d gamed all day and had almost put Alec from her mind before Gwen arrived at the door to report that Alec hadn’t actually followed her home. He wasn’t that much of a creep, although he obviously wasn’t that right in the head either because he had followed someone else here. It had been pure coincidence that whoever he was following lived in this building and that he’d been outside to see Cecily arrive home.
No need to fear for her safety as much, nor to get that restraining order. But it had killed any of those silly fantasies about Cecily saving Alec Moncrieff from the other side and together, fulfilling a magnificent destiny.
Until this morning. When despite her misgivings and the moment of wonder about whether he was actually stalking her, he’d charmed her into admitting her greatest dream, and then giving her real name.
Giving people the name ‘Ernestine’ had started when she was young. Cecily was a name given to her, a name that proved that she didn’t belong to anyone. Ernestine was her chosen name, a name that proved she didn’t need to belong to anyone. She’d taken the name from Sesame Street—Ernestine was Ernie’s baby cousin. Cecily had loved the idea of being loved by someone like Ernie. When people teased her for how old-fashioned it was, she shortened it to Tina.
She still used it when meeting people she thought she wouldn’t have a long acquaintance with. It gave her a sense of freedom in being herself. This morning, she’d given it to Alec because she didn’t want him knowing her real name and even so, he’d got Cecily out of her, and decided that was what he was going to call her.
Another sign from the universe that they weren’t meant to be together. As if she needed more.
But damn if she couldn’t stop thinking about his searing blue eyes. His smile. Wondering what it would be like to kiss those stupidly charming words from his lips.
Alec Moncrieff might not be a stalker, but he was still way too dangerous for her peace of mind. She co
uld but hope she never saw him again.
John
Back in his office after lunch, John looked at the list of things he needed to do that afternoon. Check with the Parliamentary Library about the research they were doing on defence personnel pay. Finalise Mrs B’s dinner date with the Minister for Defence. Work on a photo op for Mrs B and some defence guys or gals for some press coverage. Keep on the dream to get Mrs B onto telly.
All very important stuff. All work that he needed to do be doing this afternoon.
John looked across the office and his eye was caught by one of the shelves on his book case. He’d never quite liked the arrangement of those books. He went over, picked up a couple of the books, looked at them and then put them back in the exact same spot.
He was stressed. That was why he couldn’t concentrate. When he was like this there was only one thing to do. He closed and locked his door, then from a drawer in one of the cabinets removed a tray, filled with sand and pebbles. Lying on it was a tiny rake. Right now, intricate patterns were raked into the sand, moving around the pebbles like waves. John took the rake and mucked up the beautiful design. He looked at the Zen garden, shrugged and put the whole thing back.
He wasn’t relaxed enough to get that relaxed. So, he went for a walk. Not going anywhere. No reason why. He figured that his feet would tell him where to go and what to do when he got there.
It was staring at the nameplate ‘Barry Fisher, Member for Hereford’ that brought John back to his senses. Two more steps, and he’d be entering the office where Gwen worked. He’d see her again. Have her push him away again. Was he a sucker for punishment?
He stared longingly at the closed door. He ached to see her again. Maybe he could convince her that she was wrong. That they could work things out. There had to be a way, didn’t there?
John shook his head. He couldn’t stand here, mooning over her. What if Gwen saw? Worse—what if Alec saw?
The Importance of Ernestine Page 11