We had twenty minutes to catch the plane for the forty-five-minute flight to Saskatoon. I called Zack on the way to the airport.
“Hey, my lucky day,” he said. “A minute later and I would have been in court with my cell turned off.”
“I’m glad I caught you. I’m going to Saskatoon this morning. Ginny’s going to be on the Jack Quinlan show, and the campaign people have decided she’ll be more effective if she’s with him in studio. Anyway, I’m tagging along.”
“But you’ll be back tonight, won’t you?”
“I’ll be back by lunchtime. We’re flying.”
“Whoa. Are you okay with that?”
“No, but I should see Ginny’s performance first-hand.”
Zack knew I hated flying. “I wish I could be there, so you’d have a hand to grip.”
“So do I,” I said. “Promise me my martini tonight will be extra dry.”
“You’ve got it,” he said.
When we boarded the shuttle to Saskatoon, I felt the familiar clutch of panic. Keith looked at me closely. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Take my mind off the fact that I’m sitting on an airplane,” I said. “Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”
“Lately I’ve been paying for a lifetime of mistreating my body. Too many cigarettes. Too much booze. Too many late nights. Too much stress. Too much fast food. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my cardiologist.”
“But everything’s okay now?”
Keith shrugged. “I don’t want to waste our time alone together talking about my medical history. Tell me about Mieka and the girls. How’s the move to Regina working out?”
“Fine. They’re living in my old house, and it’s nice to watch another generation of kids growing up there. Of course, we love having them close. Mieka’s doing well. It took a while for her to figure out what she wanted to do. She thought about going back to school, but academics were never really her thing. She didn’t want to go back to catering because she hated being away from the girls, so she came up with a business plan that seems to be working.”
“So what’s the business?”
“It’s called UpSlideDown. Mieka took the money from her catering business, bought an old hardware store over on 13th Avenue, and redesigned it as a combination giant play area and coffee shop. The kids play, the parents sip coffee and chat, and everybody’s happy – especially Mieka because she gets to earn a very tidy income and spend time with the girls.”
“Good for her. And Taylor is still Taylor?”
“Taylor is magnificent,” I said. “We’ll have to get you over to the house so you can see for yourself.”
“I’d like that,” Keith said. “It’s good to know the Kilbourn women are thriving.”
“We are. And our men are doing well too. Angus is being vastly overpaid for a summer job with a law firm in Saskatoon, and Peter’s walk-in clinic is making as much money as walk-in clinics in the inner city make, but he’s content. How does Greg like Montreal?”
“He’s coping. Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
“I wish he were closer,” I said.
“It’s not easy being an ex-husband, especially when you still love your ex-wife. Greg thought a clean break was best.” Keith cocked his head so he could read my expression. “You don’t agree.”
“No,” I said. “But nobody asked me.”
“Or me,” Keith said. “Now, before we hit the big city, can you think of any questions that will poleaxe Ginny?”
“Quinlan’s good at cutting off questioners who make you want to dig out their eyeballs with a spoon,” I said, “but there are some legitimate concerns about Ginny’s priorities, and he’ll let them through. Ginny’s sex life is her own business, but the stories are out there. Even Taylor’s heard the jokes.”
Keith’s headshake was almost imperceptible. “Ginny’s been in public life long enough to be prepared for those. For anything she might not have considered.”
“There’s something about Jason that Ginny knows and isn’t telling,” I said.
“I sensed that too,” Keith said. “Any idea what the mystery is?”
“No. But this is Saskatchewan – there are only a million people in the entire province.”
“So you think somebody else will know the secret.”
“I do,” I said. “And I’ll bet they’re ready to tell.”
Over the years, I’d been on Jack Quinlan’s show a dozen times. The first time I’d been promoting a book I’d written about Andy Boychuk, a man who had been our province’s last best hope until he was murdered. Later, I’d been on air as an academic from the left whose views on the politics of culture, race, and land claims lit up the phone lines. Until lately, the studio for
Our timing was split second. We arrived at the top of the hour while the news was being read. Jack Quinlan came out to the reception area, greeted Ginny, and jumped back in mock surprise when he saw me.
“I’m here as an observer,” I said.
“Well, come in and observe,” he said. In the studio, he pointed Ginny to her seat, and offered me a stool next to his. “If you get bored, you can look out at the river. The view from here is spectacular.” He handed Ginny her headphones, picked up his own, and they were on the air.
Every phone-in show has its regulars: some have an opinion on every issue; some have a passionate opinion on one issue and feel compelled to share that opinion regardless of the topic under discussion. Quinlan’s audience was, on the whole, politically astute, but his regulars were predictable. As a caller from Elbow wound up for his well- worn joke about how Saskatchewan’s refusal to accept daylight saving time meant our province would forever be consigned to the Dark Ages, my eyes drifted to Jack Quinlan’s computer screen. I had time to read the message twice before he noticed the direction of my gaze and minimized the window. “GINNY MONAGHAN DESERVES TO WIN. WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT, I’LL GO PUBLIC WITH THE TRUTH ABOUT HER EX-HUSBAND.”
Jack glanced at me quickly, then went to the next caller. She was hostile. The next three callers were men – also hostile. It wasn’t Ginny’s morning. She was handling the enmity, but I could hear the tension in her voice. The fifth caller was a young woman from Regina who sounded as if she were reading from a script. She praised Ginny’s accomplishments as an MP, then dropped the bombshell. “Your accomplishment is even more remarkable,” the young woman said, “when one considers that while you were working for the people of this country, your ex- husband was living off the money he took from prostitutes in this city.”
The caller was cut off, but the damage was done. Ginny sat bolt upright and glared at Jack. He raised his palms to indicate helplessness and cut to a commercial. Ginny ripped off her earphones and turned to Jack. “Why didn’t you stop that girl?”
“I thought she was a plant from your party,” Jack said. “You’d had four rough calls. The girl was obviously reading. I figured she’d pitch you a soft question, and you could knock it out of the park while you caught your breath.”
“We have a family,” Ginny said. She was visibly upset, but it struck me that she didn’t seem surprised.
“We’re back,” Jack said. Ginny picked up her earphones and took the next call. From that point on it was smooth sailing, with more supportive than hostile callers. When the hour was over, Jack thanked Ginny for taking the time to come on his show, and Ginny responded with a gracious statement about how it was always a pleasure to have a chance to talk to the people of Saskatchewan.
Jack walked us out. At the elevator, he and Ginny shook hands. “You should know this isn’t the first time someone’s been in touch with that gossip about Jason,” Jack said. “I don’t expect you to tell me whether the rumour’s true, but you should know that it’s making the rounds.”
Ginny nodded acknowledgement. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in, leaving the pertinent question unasked. Keith wasn’t so reticent. “So,” he said. “Is the dirt about Jason helping us?”
Jack stared at him coldly. “It explains why Ginny might have been seeking consolation elsewhere,” he said. “Is that what you need to win?”
