by Cathryn Hein
‘You’re a tough bloke. I had faith you could take it.’
Nice to know someone thought so. Patrick wasn’t feeling even remotely tough. But he was definitely more himself after a sleep and her company. He took a long draught to wash the wasabi taint from his mouth and gazed around. The terrace and garden looked ordinary at the moment: pavers, a bit of lattice, a few pot plants. Not much else in the way of decoration, which was how it was normally done out here, but from watching some of Tash’s Melbourne party videos he suspected the yard wasn’t destined to stay that way.
‘What are you doing about seating?’
‘Ceci—that’s my friend who’s arriving tonight along with my old neighbour Thom—is helping with that.’ Her mouth slanted secretively. ‘You’ll see tomorrow night.’
‘Who else is coming?’
‘My parents, Pa, your parents, Bec and Clip.’ She rattled off several other names of people they’d gone to school with, along with a couple of local farmers. ‘Tony Leonardis said he’d try and make it, but wasn’t sure. I’m doing a profile piece on his free-range piggery in a few weeks. We’re going to spit-roast a suckling pig. Can’t wait. I’ve been told his pork’s incredible.’ She popped a few more peas. ‘Minh from the Spectator is coming too. She’s lovely. She’s going to introduce me to her mum so I can learn some Vietnamese recipes.’
Mention of the Spectator had Patrick’s mind drifting to the photo of Tash that had appeared on its front page. He glanced at her sideways. With her hat-flattened hair, heat-stained cheeks and skin streaked with dirt and sweat, she was nothing like the picture. Then she reached for a few more peas, tilted her face to the sun and opened her mouth ready to catch the tossed snacks, and Patrick couldn’t tear his gaze away.
‘Oh,’ she managed before breaking into a bout of eye-watering coughs, followed by choked giggles. ‘Hot one.’
Patrick grinned, then sobered as he checked the sun again. It had to be nearing mid-afternoon. He’d be due at Springbank soon. He wished he had a beer label to pick at. The thought of visiting Maddy, knowing the falseness of his heart and coping with the Handrecks’ distrust made him fidgety, but he wasn’t about to attempt wasabi roulette again.
‘What time will your friends be arriving?’
‘If they get away when they planned, around seven thirty. I hope Thom remembers the crabs. I should send him a reminder text. He got up early and went to the market this morning to buy me some blue swimmers.’
Patrick pondered how much this Tom thought of Tash if he was doing early-morning market runs for her. He’d seen a couple of comments from Toms on Tash’s Facebook posts, but like all the other names he hadn’t thought much of it. They were people beyond his insular world.
‘I’ve made curry for dinner. We’ll be having bhajis too. You’re welcome to join us.’
He could tell from the careful way she asked that she was hoping he’d say no. Patrick was tempted to say yes though, just to see what this Tom person was like, but he’d find out soon enough at the party. He could always do a bit more sleuthing around Tash’s social media. ‘Thanks, but you’ll want to catch up with your friends on your own and I’m not great company at the moment.’
‘You’re fine, Patrick.’
He wished he felt it, but until he sorted himself out, feeling fine was a long way off. Downing a last slug of beer, Patrick stood and waggled the empty stubbie. ‘What do you want me to with this?’
‘Leave it. I keep a special box of empties aside for Pa.’
He ambled to his ute, needing to leave, not wanting to. Tash followed close by his side and he could feel her scrutiny like the sun on his skin, good but a little burning, as his anxiety over what she must think of him returned.
Patrick opened the door and leaned his arm on the top. He scanned the paddocks, playing for time while he tried to think of a way to express his gratitude without sounding like a total sap. ‘Thank you.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry. Pretty pathetic thanks after all you’ve done.’
The glow of Tash’s smile seemed to fill the hollow pit in his chest with a special light. ‘Not pathetic, nice. Will you be okay?’
He broke eye contact to look east, towards Springbank and Wiruna, and uncertainty. ‘Yeah. Not much else to do but carry on.’
‘But not alone.’ She reached out to cover his hand with hers. ‘I’m here, if you need me. Any time, Patrick. I mean it.’
The way she said it, so sincerely, with kindness in her gaze, nearly made him choke up. Quickly, before he did something idiotic like cry, he nodded and slid into the car and started the engine. With a brief salute, he bumped down the drive. As he neared the turn past the main house he checked the mirror, but only dust remained. Tash had disappeared. The light in his chest clouded.
By the time he reached Springbank it was almost gone.
The Handrecks were hastily snatching papers off the kitchen table when Patrick knocked and walked in.
‘Patrick,’ said Grant. ‘We weren’t expecting you until later.’
He shrugged, watching Nicola slap another paper on top of her pile and reef the lot to her chest. ‘I was passing. Thought I’d call in.’ His frown deepened as Nicola walked from the kitchen and headed down the hall. He looked at Grant. ‘Did I interrupt?’
‘No, no. We were just going over a few financials.’
Which accounted for Nicola’s furtiveness. Maddy’s care cost a fortune, especially the extra physical therapy they received no assistance for, but the Handrecks weren’t the sort to complain. Nor would they want Patrick worrying.
He flicked his chin towards Maddy’s room. ‘How is she today?’
‘Bit restless.’
Restless. Patrick swallowed as panic throbbed. What if she sensed it? What if the unbroken part of her that was captive in her damaged body knew he’d stopped loving her? What if she was screaming and no one could hear?
Grant was watching him. ‘You all right there, son?’
‘Yeah.’ He forced himself to breathe. ‘Yeah, fine.’
He headed for the room before his courage failed. The French doors were closed, the air conditioner on, and the room had the antiseptic smell of a hospital. Maddy was in the centre, on her bed, face twisted to the wall.
Patrick collected the ring box from its shelf. His back to Maddy, he turned it over in his hands and flipped the lid. Slowly, he took the ring out and weighed it in his palm. One carat of diamonds, unremembered grams of eighteen carat gold, and the heft of a promise made forever.
It may as well have been a manacle.
Chapter 17
Ceci’s and Thom’s arrival at Castlereagh Road brought loud squealing from Ceci, good-natured grumbling from Thom, and happiness to Tash’s heart. They could communicate all they liked online, but that was no comparison to Ceci’s fierce hug, or Thom’s shy smile and eye-rolls at Ceci’s over-excitement.
After welcome drinks in the main house with her mum and dad—during which Ceci bemused everyone with her breathless horror story about almost hitting a rabbit on the drive over—and showing her guests their bedrooms, Tash led them to the flat and what proved to be a raucous night of champagne, curry and hilarious photobombing while Tash attempted to cook.
Morning brought mildly sore heads, easily cured by large quantities of coffee and Tash’s fluffy buttermilk pancakes smothered in whipped cinnamon-honey butter, followed by an invigorating stroll around the farm.
They returned to the flat for more coffee, and promises to Ceci that she’d have every opportunity to ride Khan later, once they’d finished setting up.
‘You’ll probably fall off anyway,’ Thom teased.
‘God,’ said Tash clutching her head and thinking of Maddy. ‘Don’t say that.’
Ceci screwed her nose up at Thom and turned aside to blow a puff of cigarette smoke out into the pristine morning. Aside from the cigarette, Ceci looked gorgeous in a rich scarlet silk shirt, skinny jeans and embroidered tan cowgirl boots with matching belt. Her platinum hair was blow-dried a
nd tempered with product to shiny precision, her make-up model-perfect. Clearly she didn’t plan on doing much dirty work.
Unlike Tash, who was intent at her bench on the fiddly task of picking meat from the blue swimmer crabs she’d blanched earlier. She’d risen just after dawn to tidy the last of the previous night’s mess and prepare breakfast, and with more party preparation and cooking, she didn’t think it was worthwhile showering until later, which left her with bed hair, crab-juice-stained work clothes, and a general feeling of grubbiness compared to Ceci’s dazzling perfection.
Thom was perched on a stool on the other side, tooling with Tash’s laptop and making security tweaks to her website. ‘You’ve let this go a bit.’
‘I know,’ said Tash, manipulating a hooked crab fork into the crustacean’s tight chambers and pulling out a flake of sweet white flesh. ‘With everything else it keeps slipping my mind.’
‘Don’t let it. Make a schedule.’ Thom’s eyes rolled as Ceci’s phone went again. ‘Does the bloke ever stop?’
Ceci poked her tongue out and wandered out to the garden to answer. Thom had a point. The night before the text messages had been non-stop. This morning it was phone calls.
Not long ago Tash would have been burning with jealousy over Brandon’s adoration of Ceci, but other than a wistful longing for someone who cared for her as much, she no longer seemed to mind. Although she did wish her friend wouldn’t be so dismissive of her boyfriend’s attentions. It didn’t seem charitable or fair.
But life wasn’t always fair and love definitely wasn’t. She only had to consider Patrick’s situation to see that.
Tash hoped he was okay. He’d been in a terrible state the day before but a rest and food had helped, and by the time he’d left she felt confident she’d made a bit of a difference. That he could come to her whenever he needed, without judgement.
She snuck a peek at Thom. He was dressed in his usual designer-scruffy fare but had swapped his hipster bushranger beard for a more tightly cropped manscaped version. Though Tash had never remarked on it, the wiry russet bush hadn’t suited him. This defined, softly coloured version did, bringing better definition to his chin and highlighting his gentle mouth. She’d enjoyed that mouth during their one-night stand but looking at Thom now she couldn’t help comparing him to Patrick, which was unjust. Patrick, like Ceci, was one of the world’s beautiful people, whereas Thom was like herself—his attractiveness came from within. Besides, no matter how good-looking he was, Patrick’s life was hardly to be envied.
With the food readied as much as possible, Tash and Thom spent a cheerful few hours setting up, while Ceci supervised, filmed and photographed, in between messaging Brandon. Thom helped Tash load the ute with half a dozen bales of hay, which they stacked on the terrace and topped with an old timber door salvaged from the rubbish pile behind the machinery shed. With the wind low, and forecast to stay that way, Tash passed Ceci a box of supplies and left her in charge of table decorations while she and Thom used her dad’s air compressor to fill the multicoloured inflatable stools Ceci had brought from Melbourne.
Finally, after they’d washed the dust from their throats with homemade lemonade, Tash clapped her hands together. ‘Shall we go horse-riding?’
When Khan was saddled and Ceci had received her instructions, Tash handed her a helmet.
Ceci regarded it with horror. ‘I can’t wear that!’
‘You have to. It’s for your own safety.’
‘Absolutely not.’ She touched her hair protectively. ‘This took me ages. I can’t ruin it with a hat.’
Tash sighed and dropped the helmet. She’d only be leading Ceci around at a walk anyway and she knew her friend well enough to recognise that stubborn chin thrust.
She gave Ceci a leg-up. Checking the length, Tash adjusted the stirrups a notch and helped Ceci place her feet properly. She handed over the reins. ‘Just hold them lightly. His mouth is soft and you don’t want to hurt him by pulling on it. I’ll do the steering. If you need something to hold on to, grab the pommel,’ she tapped the raised front of the saddle, ‘or grab a hunk of mane.’
With another double check to ensure Ceci was sitting properly and relaxed, Tash clipped a lead to Khan’s bit and clicked her teeth to signal walk-on. Thom remained at the fence, alternating between filming with the action camera and Tash’s phone, and snapping the occasional shot on Ceci’s phone.
Tash tickled Khan’s chin while she led. He was being a gentleman as always, walking with dutiful calm, blinking sweetly in the sun and chewing his bit. It was a gorgeous day, promising a fine evening ahead. Rather than cook, when they finished riding Tash planned to take Thom and Ceci on a tourist drive into Emu Springs, followed by lunch at the Commercial Hotel then a visit to Pa’s to cut jasmine and crop a last-minute supply of salad leaves and herbs. It was a long way off, but come spring Tash expected to be doing the same with her own garden. She’d organise another party to celebrate, perhaps book a local singer. By then she’d have an outdoor oven, maybe even a fire pit. She could spit-roast lamb and Argentine-style beef short ribs, and suckling pig with crunchy crackling. She might even have a couple of little pigs of her own by then.
Tash was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice that a vehicle had pulled into the farm until it was too late. Her heart bounced high into her throat. She snatched at Ceci’s leg as Patrick’s ute veered away from the flat and speared straight for Khan’s paddock. ‘Quick. Get down.’
‘What for? We haven’t finished filming.’
‘Please, Ceci.’
Ceci narrowed her eyes at the rapidly approaching vehicle. ‘Who’s that?’
Tash tugged even harder on her leg. ‘Someone who’s going to kill me if you don’t get down.’
‘Why?’
Too late. Patrick was already through the fence and striding towards them. Thom had the camera up, filming everything.
In seconds Patrick’s face was in hers. ‘Are you crazy?’
‘Oh, wow,’ said Ceci, openly ogling Patrick. He was, Tash had to admit, looking stupidly sexy in jeans and a white polo shirt that hugged his chest and showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Whatever. He was in his butthead mood and while Ceci clearly found it attractive, Tash didn’t.
She tried to keep her tone cool but it still emerged annoyingly defensive. ‘I was only leading him.’
‘It doesn’t matter, and you know it.’ He regarded Ceci, who stared back at him in that wide-eyed manner she reserved for attractive men. ‘If you’re not wearing a hat, you’ll have to get down.’
Her fawn eyes turned pleading. ‘But we were only going slow.’
Tash signalled Thom to stop filming. She didn’t want to risk this ending up on the internet, accidentally or otherwise.
‘Makes no difference,’ said Patrick. ‘Farm insurance.’
Tash snorted. Farm insurance like hell.
Ceci inspected the ground either side of Khan and pouted. ‘I’m not sure I can. It’s a very long way.’
‘Here,’ said Patrick, holding up his arms. ‘Kick your leg over the saddle and slide into my arms.’
Ceci obeyed, her hands lingering on Patrick’s shoulders far longer than needed.
‘This is Ceci Knowles,’ said Tash.
Patrick nodded. ‘I’ve seen you in a few videos.’
‘Oh, how nice.’ Her silk shirt shot waves of colour as she fluttered fingers to her open collar, pushing it just far enough across to show more perfect skin and a hint of black lace bra.
‘And this is my old neighbour, Thom Whitfield,’ said Tash, resisting the urge to slap Ceci’s hand.
Thom accepted Patrick’s shake with a friendly ‘g’day’, only for his smile to falter at the strength of Patrick’s grip.
‘Do you live around here, Patrick?’ asked Ceci, her husky Marilyn Monroe purr raising Tash’s hackles. She already had Brandon. Flirting with Patrick was being plain greedy.
‘Two farms along.’
‘Funny, Tash neve
r mentioned you.’ She planted a pointed look on Tash. ‘At all.’
‘I have. Patrick is Maddy’s fiancé.’ Tash put careful emphasis on the fiancé part. ‘Maddy who owns Khan, remember? I explained all that last night.’
‘Did you? I can’t remember. Unless you told Thom after I went to bed? You two were having quite a discussion, if I recall.’
Khan shuffled as Tash tightened her grip on his reins and accidentally dragged on his bit. She stroked his silky neck in apology, face burning. Yes, she and Thom had stayed up but they’d been locked in a business discussion. Nothing like Ceci was making it sound. Ceci had been too loaded on sauvignon blanc to know what they were talking about anyway.
‘About Tash’s website,’ said Thom. ‘Which is why you went to bed. You couldn’t stand the geek talk.’
‘Oh. Yes. That’s right.’ She beamed at Patrick. ‘Those two can be so dull when they get together.’
‘I bet,’ said Patrick, eyeing Thom.
‘So,’ said Tash over-brightly, ‘seeing as we’re done here, we should probably get ready for town. Why don’t you two head off while I sort Khan? I’m sure you have make-up to repair, Ceci.’
‘Oh, I’m fine the way I am.’
Sneaking a wink at Tash, Thom slung an arm around Ceci’s shoulders and murmured something in her ear. The high-beam smile suddenly developed an edge of brittleness.
‘You’re right. We probably should tidy up a bit.’ Ceci undraped Thom’s arm and poked his sternum. ‘You definitely need it.’ She threw a last fluttery-lashed look at Patrick. ‘Will we see you tonight?’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Lovely. I can’t wait to hear all about your life on the farm. All this fresh air is so …’ She raked her gaze over his chest and arms. ‘… energising.’
Thom lifted his eyes heavenward in a god-help-me look, before dragging her arm and frogmarching Ceci off.
‘Is everything okay?’ asked Tash when Ceci and Thom were out of earshot.
Patrick kept watching them. ‘You shouldn’t have let her ride without a helmet.’
‘I tried to get her to wear one, believe me, but she didn’t want to wreck her hair.’ Tash felt the need to defend how stupid that sounded. ‘She models part-time. Things like that matter to her.’