ReadFin Literary Journal (Winter 2018)

“Come on, Minister, a quick photo and we’ll leave you alone.” “A quick
grab before we call it a night, eh?” “Minister, is it true? What sort of
wine?” “Come on, we’re not leaving until we get a quote.”
She was shaking. This was all new to her, being stalked, having her
privacy invaded. The banging on the door persisted. They were not
quite baying for blood, but close to it. As though in preparation for a
cyclone she hid in the shower, feeling ridiculous. Finally, she rang the
Premier’s media advisor asking him to call them off. He did and they
left.
Sleep was fitful, listening for cars, listening for the knock on the door.
The following morning, by the time she had showered and dressed,
the media were setting up camp. They were standing around with
take-away cups of coffee, chatting. Her driver arrived. She kissed
her dog on the nose, then gathered her dignity and walked out the
front door. Microphones were immediately thrust into her face.
She managed the obligatory “No comment”. She knew she looked
wretched.
The Premier decided that she would travel back to Lockhart
immediately to personally apologise for the alleged misdemeanour.
She was ordered to go along with four journalists. What was he
thinking? A self-confessed media tart, the Premier delighted in
dealing with the media.
There were photos of the Premier with his shaken minister, drinking
water. By that stage the story had blown out of all proportion.
Accusations flew, barristers were engaged. The opposition called for a
Crime and Misconduct Commission inquiry.
She had been a minister for a month.
At first, the headlines were, ‘Staffer takes bottle of wine into dry
community’. Then, with the help of the opposition, it became, ‘The
minister and her director general lied about their knowledge of the
bottle of wine’, and, ‘The Premier had misled parliament’. Then the
pilots were also in the firing line.
The media and the opposition were relentless. They could smell the
opportunity for a scalp in the first month of a new government.
In a bizarre twist to the Winegate affair … Premier refuses to sack
minister … The government faces more questions today … and the
obligatory Play School reference … “I’m going to need this water for
something special in Play School today” …
*
*
Amidst the chaos she couldn’t help but think of the adage, ‘don’t let
the facts get in the way of a good story’. The apparent good story went
on for months while the CMC investigation took place.
Having a barrister was also a first. It was important to have someone
in your corner when facing up to the CMC lawyers. Her first meeting
was daunting. It was in a small room in a modern legal building—it
had that legal, rarefied air—with round table, tasteful chairs and
an imposing man trying hard to be ordinary. He questioned her
about the planning of the trip, who sat where, who said what. He
interrogated her about what had transpired on the ground before
leaving Lockhart and upon return. He left no stone unturned. She
was in a lather, gesticulating wildly. It was a harrowing ordeal, and
at times she felt guilty, such was the pressure. After two hours he
stopped.
“You can’t possibly have made that up. I believe you. Now, we do the
hard work.”
*
Her electorate work continued. She still had to go to schools, meet
with constituents and continue her parliamentary work. Question
time was taken up with queries about wine, which of course the other
MPs all found hilarious. One factor lost in all the mud slinging was
that it was one bottle of Wolf Blass Red—not even the Grey label. It
was a six-buck quaffer and anyone who knew her knew that her tipple
was champagne. A self-confessed wine snob, she wouldn’t drink at all
if there wasn’t anything decent on offer.
That, of course, was incidental to the story. It didn’t matter the
quantity or quality of the wine; the issue was that someone allegedly
took wine into a dry community.
It brought into question the alcohol management plans and
instigated another round of hostility between the communities and
the government. She had to win back support, which meant more
visits to remote communities. She had the support of a number of
the communities and local Murries, but they were suspicious of the
government. This was a lot for a first-time ‘embattled’ minister.
On one of the many trips to Cairns, a departmental officer who
worked with the communities sidled up to her. “Can I have a word,
Minister?” He looked grey and dejected.
“Of course.” They moved to the side of the room.
“I have a confession to make.” He intimated that he knew what
the manager of the Lockhart airport had intended to do but kept
the information to himself. The alcohol management plans were
interfering with the manager’s social life in the community, and he
had said very loudly on a number of drunken occasions that ‘the next
bloody government jet that flew in, he would hang it on them’.
The officer regaling the tale was in tears. He blamed himself and
believed he could have stopped it all if only he had made a call.
There was nothing she could do with this information. The issue’s
trajectory was running its own out-of-control course; it was
impossible to curtail it. She felt sorry for the officer.
The police at Lockhart thought the whole episode was ridiculous, and
if it had been up to them they wouldn’t have pressed charges against
the minister and her team. The Deputy Premier informed her they
didn’t really care if she had taken the bottle on the jet or not; the
Premier just wanted a bit of publicity to show he was in command.
Indeed, the Deputy Premier had advised the Premier to drop it.
The final CMC report went into details of no consequence. The
triviality of the saga was obvious to all, even the media, but they had
their jobs to do and they were not going to give up while the story still
had some mileage.
After many months and sessions with the CMC investigators she was
exonerated from any wrongdoing and her staff reprimanded. But the
opposition continued its attempts to undermine her.
“It will blow over eventually,” said her partner and a number of
colleagues. She hoped so, but she often thought of the advice given
to her by the federal member early in the saga. Had he been right? If
she had fallen on her sword at the beginning, history may have been
kinder. It could be said that she didn’t ever recover from Winegate,
especially when it was coupled with the riots on Palm Island …
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