Series 02: Alan Gibson Stewart papers, 1987-1989 - Page 781
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Eiplogue 379
By Wednesday our task was complete. The offices had been stripped of the accumulation of the years of politics. My files had been packed in cartons and stacked in the garage at Curl Curl. Pamphlets and display racks had been given to the Citizens Advice Bureau. A truck and a team of men had carried away the government furniture and equipment from the electorate office in Manly.
That night I sat in my office in Parliament House alone, staring at the silent telephone on the bare wood of the desk. I had taken many calls here at all hours of the day -- excited voices, angry voices, happy voices-- from people who could not be forgotten. But there would only be silence here tonight. It was after nine o'clock on the evening of my forty-sixth birthday and I had reached another turning point in life.
I got up and took the etching of kangaroos from the wall. As I walked out intoe the darkened, empty corridor, the heavy glass door automatically swung shut and locked itself. I turned and slipped my aluminium nameplate off its clip. There were other doors to find.