Free The Night Book by Charlotte Grimshaw Page A

National Party fundraiser. Mr Lampton was in a stable condition, but his family was waiting to hear whether there would be permanent damage. Hallwright was photographed at his friend’s bedside, and later made a statement to television reporters outside the hospital. He looked forward to tackling youth crime himself, when National became the government. He would be innovative and decisive; he would have a much firmer hand. This state of affairs had gone on for a long time, and obviously people were nervous and afraid. He had yet to release detailed policy, however. That would come, closer to election time.
    Claire said, ‘When’s he going to tell us what his policies actually are?’
    They were watching the six o’clock news. Simon, as the invalid, had the whole sofa to himself. The news switched to the American election and they watched the Democrat candidate speaking to a crowd.
    Simon said, ‘Do you think Hallwright hired those two muggers himself?’
    Elke, twirling her hair and staring into space, said dreamily, ‘What muggers?’
    ‘Definitely,’ Claire said.
    They watched the American president talking to reporters. Behind him, his wife fixed the reporters with a glazed smile. There was a local item, about tax cuts. If National won the election Simon would get a tax cut of fifty dollars a week.
    Karen said, ‘About time.’
    Claire looked at Karen. There was a silence. They all waited.
    ‘How much does Dad earn a year?’ Claire asked.
    ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Karen said.
    ‘Do we need an extra fifty dollars a week?’
    ‘The point is …’ Karen began.
    Simon said wickedly, ‘Just say, theoretically, I earn more than eight hundred thousand a year.’
    Karen glared. She didn’t approve of telling anyone that kind of thing. She didn’t see why he had to help Claire attack her. Her look said, You’ll pay.
    Claire was triumphant. ‘So that fifty dollars will really be a godsend . At last we can eat . Don’t let it be wasted on poor people. Just let them all rot out there in South Auckland and hope they don’t come bothering us over here . Just get tighter security .’
    Karen snapped, ‘You don’t know anything about money. Spoilt brat.’
    Claire picked up her economics textbook, making a face at Simon. He grinned at her.
    The next item came on: a senior policeman, Ray Marden, had been acquitted of an historic rape charge. There was a shot of him outside the High Court, furiously denouncing his accusers.
    Karen turned on Simon. ‘Why do you let Claire do that? She’s got all these naïve ideas. She knows nothing about money and you just let her attack me over and over again. You let her.’
    He opened his eyes wide. ‘Darling, you’ve got to defend your ideas. You’re the one with the political mind in this house. I just focus on my patients.’
    There was a silence. Karen flicked her hair. She said slowly, ‘I suppose I am the political one.’
    She looked pleased. ‘Poor old Simon. Are you feeling sore?’
    She adjusted the pillows for him.
       
    A week later, Simon got up at dawn and drove to the airport. He feltall right, just a bit of stiffness in his shoulder and arm when he bent to pick up his bag. He left his car in the long-term park and flew down to Wellington for a conference.
    All day people asked him about being mugged and he told them the same thing. By the end of it he felt like a drink, so he and Peter from the hospital went to the hotel bar and shared a bottle of wine. In the taxi on the way to the airport he was light-headed, stale and headachy with the wine. It was getting dark already and Wellington looked tiny, huddled against its hills. He had a sense of impermanence and alarm, as though he’d had news of some momentous, agitating change.
    They were late for the flight and had to hurry down the hall to where the staff were waiting to hurl their bags through the security screen and hustle them onto the plane. They took off in a sudden rainstorm, the