Page 104 of Power Moves
Ice cream all over the road!
Thanks for the number
Promise won’t make it weird
Good luck today!!!
(Will stop texting now but was honestly great to chat!)
(Thanks again!)
My smile broadens. To be connecting him with Jessie feels both like a magnanimously kind-hearted gesture, and a deliciously wicked prank.
I stop at the university’s library cafe and buy a takeaway coffee, which spouts ribbons of steam. There is dew on the manicured front lawn and the faint white shape of the moon hangs idly above the western wall of the quadrangle, despite the glare of the morning sun from the east. As I walk up the steps towards the Great Hall, a flock of pigeons squawks past in the grey light, heading in the direction of my early adulthood: the uni residences, the pubs, the convenience stores and $11 Thai restaurants. The birds glide through the sky like paper aeroplanes, and I watch them until they’re vanishing specks. I wonder if the footy players still play uni res bingo. I wonder if Archie will wonder that too.
I still don’t know what I’m going to say to him.I had a spew in a car park and realised I missed your presence because it has become overly familiar to me.Or:I missed your presence because you’re clever and funny and know me better than anyone, to the point where it can be infuriating, but also the best thing in the world.Or do I simply go withI like you?
All of these options sound weird, but I need to say something. That much is obvious. I need to tell Archie that he’s important to me and I need to apologise for treating him so callously, and it also feels overwhelmingly important to sayPlease don’t date Kristina because I don’t want you to like hanging out with her more than you like hanging out with me.
‘You’re early,’ remarks an unfamiliar voice.
I startle from my thoughts, spilling my coffee down my trouser leg.Shit!These palazzo pants are so voluminous—this would have never happened in a pencil skirt!
‘Whoops, sorry,’ says a woman emerging from the sandstone cloisters by the hall. She’s wearing a hot-pink skirt suit and has a magnificent blowdry. ‘I forget that not everyone is an early bird like me.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say with a grimace, feeling the coffee soak into my thigh. ‘I’ve got a spare pair of trousers in my bag. I always bring spare clothes for events like these. Pays to be prepared.’
The woman tilts her head and smiles. ‘Good thinking,’ she says approvingly as she stretches out her hand. ‘I’m Arabella Flint. PMO media director.’ I shake her hand slowly, as my brain works through the implications of the acronym. PMO = Prime Minister’s Office. I stifle a gasp as our hands break apart. This woman is literally the most important communications professional in the country. And I look like I shat myself.
‘Pleasure to meet you,’ I stammer, grateful the sun isn’t fully up so she can’t see the flush across my cheeks. ‘I’m Minister Harcourt’s media director. Camilla Hatton.’
‘Oooh,’ she says, wincing. ‘You’ve had a rough trot recently.’
I nod without enthusiasm because how can I lie? This woman would analyse the headlines more than me.
‘You’ve managed it well though,’ she continues. ‘That slot on Lush FM was genius. And the TikTok debut? Couldnot have spun it better myself. TheNews & Viewstalking points were spot on, too. Just a pity Nancy beat you to60 Minutes.’
‘You’re telling me,’ I mutter. ‘I thought that slot was mine. I’d spoken to the producer three times that day.’
‘We can’t win them all,’ she says solicitously. ‘And your strategy was flawless.’
‘Thank you,’ I gush, embarrassingly gratified by this woman who, moments before, had been a complete stranger. ‘It’s really good to hear you say that. I don’t get much feedback. Or, at least, not from people who understand it. I’ve kind of had to teach myself and work on instinct.’
‘Really?’ Arabella raises her eyebrows. ‘Well, your instincts are spot on. I’ve got guys who’ve been working for me for twenty years who wouldn’t have been able to cope with the storm you’ve handled in the last few weeks.’
‘How many staff do you have?’
‘Twelve. More if you count graphic design and digital.’
‘That is incredible,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve only got a media assistant. She’s great but she’s very new, so I still do most things. She mainly updates the mailing list.’
Arabella clicks her tongue. ‘Wow. Big job for you.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I reply. I don’t want her to think I’m fishing for compliments, though, to be honest, I’ll probably replay her words in my mind for the rest of my life. ‘What’s the plan for today?’ I ask, glancing around the quadrangle where we’re going to announce a multimillion-dollar Commonwealth–state initiative to deliver more teacher training in universities.
Arabella scoffs. ‘Since the New South Wales funding has fallen through last-minute, it’ll just have to be a meet-and-greet instead of a full presser, but it’ll be good colour, I guess.’
‘What do you mean the funding has fallen through? I saw the brief yesterday when I was writing the media release. It was all signed off.’
