Steven Joyce

Steve Braunias’ Secret Diary of ...

MONDAY

There was a brilliant sunset this morning, all oranges and flaming reds that set the sky on fire. I watched it from the window. It was a beautiful sight. But after a while I pulled the curtains shut and sat on the edge of the bed. I rubbed my knees. Rain was due. Through the low mutter of voices on

Morning Report, I suddenly heard someone say, “Mr Joyce has hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons.”

I smiled in the dark: what’ve I done now? Controversy was like an old friend. It had stayed with me for all my nine years in government. I listened closely, but realised they were talking about Barnaby Joyce.

There was a report about Ardern’s visit to the Pacific.

Then Simon Bridges came on, and criticised the Government’s foreign policy “reset”. I soon lost interest.

The voices seemed to grow distant, like people talking in another room.

I rubbed my knees again. Yes, rain was due. I could feel it in my bones.

TUESDAY

I called Simon. “Yep,” he said. “I’ve been thinking,” I said. “Yep,” he said. “Maybe now’s a good time I left. Leave you to get on with it,” I said.

“Yep,” he said.

“That is — unless you want me as finance spokesman? Because I’d be only too -” “Nope,” he interrupted.

“All good,” I said. “I’ll finish up on Friday after a farewell morning tea. Would you like to say a few words?”

But he’d already hung up.

WEDNESDAY

I came into the Morning Report studios for a long, leisurely interview with Guyon Espiner, to look back on my political career and talk about my legacy.

But Guyon wasn’t there. I didn’t catch the name of the interviewer. All he wanted to do was bring up the fiscal hole.

Three terms in Government; “Mr Fix-It”; “The Minister of Everything” — none of that got a mention. I was back outside on the pavement in five or six minutes.

The wind howled along the Terrace. It started to rain.

THURSDAY

I ran into the Morning Report interviewer today by chance.

“Hello,” I said.

“You look familiar,” he said. “What’d you say your name was?”

FRIDAY

I was given a card and a shovel at the morning tea. “Ha, ha,” I laughed. “Holes. I get it. Classic.” There was cake. I thanked everyone for coming. People drifted back to their desks, and I took the cups and plates into the kitchen. After I stacked them in the dishwasher, I packed up a box in my office. I was about to pick it up and go when I got a text.

It was from JK. “Lunch. My shout.” I sent back a thumbs-up emoji, and left Parliament for the last time. I didn’t look back.