Hit at the House

1
Friday, 4.45 pm


I hauled myself onto the platform and clutched the rail. Gary, ‘the Gorilla’, muscled up the steel buttress, seconds away from the platform. I sobbed and flung my shoe at him. Gary bared his yellowed teeth:

‘I’ll get you, you bitch.’

‘Fat chance,’ I snarled, sounding more confident than I felt.

I’m on a flagpole above Australia’s Parliament House, chased by a thug. How did I get into this mess? I’m just an Aussie girl looking forward to a Friday night party in Civic.

‘Take that, you idiot!'

Gary howled as I hit him with my second shoe: what a waste of a good pair of heels.

The crowd gawped as Gary and I battled to the top of the flagpole. I guess not much happens in the House on Friday afternoons. I spotted Su-Lin and hissed inwardly; if only I hadn’t trusted her.

Gary planted his paws on the platform. I'm frozen to the spot; there's nowhere to go but down. Why did I climb this stupid flagpole? If I slip, it's a helluva drop to the concrete. How am I going to get out of here?

'I'll get you, you bitch,' he repeated. Not much of a conversationalist, our Gary.

‘Leave me alone! Go away! I haven't got your silly papers. I'm not the person you want!' I stomped on Gary’s hands, but he held on tight. He squeezed his body under the rail, pushing a meaty knee onto the platform.

I heard a massive noise - Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! A helicopter powered above Parliament House.

‘Help! Help! Get me off!' I waved my arms and jumped up and down. I think they got the message. I saw the co-pilot grin. Oh my god! It's Troy!

This is so embarrassing. I don't know which is worse: a madman chases me up a flagpole or someone I fancy rescues me from that flagpole.

'I've got you now, you little sheila,' crowed Gary and clamped my ankle.

'Oh no, you haven't.' Thank goodness for glossy fake tan. I yanked out my slicked foot and booted Gary's face.

'Yaaaaaa!' Gary clutched the metal rungs to save himself.

A rope snaked from the helicopter door. I toed my foot onto the platform rail. Would my slippery sole get some traction? The crowd gasped collectively. Would I make it or not? I'd have to balance on a teeny strip of metal. Would it hold my weight? If I could just reach that rope . . . not a good time to think of heights or what I'd look like if I fell. What choice did I have? I looked down into Gary’s eyes, heaved myself onto the thin metal strip and jumped.