by Cathryn Hein
‘Still no excuse.’ Finally, he looked at her. ‘I saw your Facebook photos. Looked like you had a good time last night.’
‘We did,’ said Tash slowly, trying to figure out what was in his expression. ‘Ceci more than Thom and me. We stopped drinking after dinner. She kept on. Not that you’d know it.’
‘She’s very pretty. Thom’s a bit …’ He hesitated. ‘… urban. He does websites?’
‘Programs code for big corporations mostly,’ said Tash, leading Khan to the fence. ‘He helps with my site when I ask. He’s very good.’ She handed the lead deliberately to Patrick. To her surprise he accepted it. Perhaps he was getting over his hatred of the horse. Tash could only hope.
‘And he was your neighbour in Melbourne?’
‘Yep.’ She’d already said that. Obviously he’d been too distracted by Ceci to listen. Typical. Tash tried not to feel moody about it as she ran the stirrups up their leathers and unbuckled the girth. She lifted the saddle and blanket off and balanced them on the strainer rail, then picked up a brush from Khan’s bucket and began to work his sweat marks.
‘So he and Ceci are an item, are they?’
‘Hardly. Despite appearances, Ceci has a boyfriend who’s crazy about her.’
When Patrick made no further comment, Tash watched him from over her shoulder. He definitely looked better than he had the day before. Almost too much better. The white shirt brought out the blue in his eyes, brighter now he’d managed some sleep. Something was up though, the way he kept threading the flat nylon lead back and forth through his fist.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah.’ Looking down, he scuffed a boot through the long grass. ‘I brought you a present. As thanks for yesterday.’
‘Patrick, we’re friends, you don’t have to thank me with presents.’ Even so, the idea he’d considered her brought a pleasant buzz to her insides.
‘I wanted to.’ He nodded towards his car. ‘It’s in the ute.’
She finished up with Khan, patting him fondly as she set him loose. Patrick held the fencing wires open for her and Tash wished she didn’t feel self-conscious about the size of her bum as she climbed through. Hard not to when Ceci was around, wiggling her boy hips and flat stomach. Without asking, Patrick hooked the saddle over one arm and collected the bucket with the other, leaving Tash with only Khan’s bridle and lead. It was so natural she could only guess he’d done it a thousand times with Maddy.
A large shiny-leafed plant was secured with octopus straps to the back of the ute behind the passenger side. Tash grinned and pressed her hands to her mouth. She reached out to fondle the dangling bright fruit, and gazed at Patrick with delight.
‘You bought me a lemon tree.’
‘Not lemon. Mum said Liz already had one. It’s a lemonade tree.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Lemonade? Oh!’ Tash’s mind raced with thoughts of marmalade and butters and cakes and dozens of other dishes. ‘Thank you.’ She eased up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, but instead caught part of his mouth. She backed off quickly. Flustered, she concentrated on the tree, touching fruit, branches and leaves, as if it were a pet in need of attention. ‘Thank you so much.’
For an awkward moment neither spoke, then their words were colliding in the air.
‘What time …’
‘I guess I should …’
Tash smiled. ‘You go first.’
He lifted the saddle. ‘Where do you want this?’
‘Here,’ she held out her arms, ‘let me take it.’
‘I can look after it.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Not like I haven’t done it before.’
Tash indicated the garden shed, where she’d cleared a small space for Khan’s tack and brushes, and a bag of second-grade carrots she’d bought from the local produce store as a horse treat. Tack stowed, they returned to the ute. After releasing the straps, Patrick slid the tree along the tray to the rear and lowered the tailgate. She braced to help lift it down but Patrick hoisted the entire pot himself, muscles bulging with the effort. Tash had to force herself not to gawp.
‘Where to?’
She led him to the terrace and pointed to a sunny spot at the end of the pavers. The pot in place, Patrick planted his hands on his hips and regarded the transformed yard. Glittery pale purple inflatable stools occupied random spaces, popping up like psychedelic mushrooms. The makeshift trestle table was covered in floor-length white satin, small lilac bows gathering the cloth at the base of each corner to form a puffy skirt. Jars of water helped hold the cloth in place, ready for loading with jasmine and purple-blue hydrangeas from the garden. Fairy lights draped from the eaves and lattice tops.
He nodded in approval. ‘That’s quite a change. Looks good.’
‘Thanks. It’ll look even better once the sun goes down and the lights come on. Oh,’ she said in dismay, ‘your shirt.’ Unthinking, Tash began brushing his chest where the pot had leaked damp soil and left dirty streaks down his front. With every swipe the damage worsened but for some dumb reason she couldn’t stop. She moaned in despair.
Snatching her flailing hands, Patrick held them together between his own. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’
Tash wanted to wail from embarrassment. He’d brought her a present and she’d spoiled it. ‘Your shirt is ruined.’
‘Tash,’ he said, ducking to catch her eye, ‘it’s okay, I promise. Mum has soaker stuff at home. Bit of that and it’ll be as good as new.’
‘But it looked so nice. You’ve been so nice.’
‘Not that nice. I did yell, remember? I think you mentioned that makes me a butthead.’
She managed a weak smile. ‘You made up for it.’
Patrick still had hold of her hands. Tash glanced at them, wishing his touch didn’t feel so good. She moved her arms a fraction, and immediately Patrick let go.
His attention shifted to behind her. ‘Your friends are back.’
Tash’s shoulders sagged when she saw the length of Ceci’s denim mini skirt. Thom had changed into jeans even skinnier than Ceci’s had been, braces, and one of his hipster checked shirts. Compared to Patrick’s easy masculinity, it looked more than a little foolish.
Although not as foolish as her, standing with her fingers still tingling from Patrick’s touch and the memory of his firm chest under her hand and the softly yielding corner of his mouth as she’d kissed him thanks. Not only that, she had yet to shower and stank of crab juice, sweat, dust and horse. In this state she wouldn’t even be able to pull a legless Thom let alone someone like Patrick.
‘Are you going like that?’ asked Ceci.
‘Don’t be a bitch,’ said Thom. ‘Tash looks fine. The smell though …’ He grinned and winked to show he was joking but it only made her feel more self-conscious. She stepped subtly aside from Patrick and jammed her arms close to her sides to prevent any odour escaping.
‘You smell fine,’ said Patrick, throwing Thom a look that had him quickly dropping the jokey grin.
‘I really should shower,’ said Tash. ‘Thanks for the present. That was kind.’
‘You brought Tash a present?’ asked Ceci, attention flicking between Tash and Patrick.
‘I did. A lemonade tree.’
‘Well chosen,’ said Ceci, drawing the words out and watching Patrick closely. ‘Tash loves plants.’
She could feel Patrick’s gaze but she was too concerned about her dirty-smelliness to meet it.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s why I bought it.’ He addressed Tash, his tone quieter. ‘If you need a hand this arvo, let me know, I’d be happy to help. Otherwise I’ll see you tonight.’ He nodded at Ceci and Thom. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’
He strode around the side of the flat without looking back, as one pair of eyes locked unhappily on his back, while the other two pairs appreciatively watched his denim-clad rear.
‘I think,’ said Ceci slowly, ‘I might have to move to the country. That man is smokin’.’
‘He’s engaged,’ snapped
Tash.
‘And you have a boyfriend,’ said Thom equally snippily.
But Ceci was already sauntering off, phone in one hand, unlit cigarette in the other, and a sly smile quirking her pouty scarlet mouth.
Chapter 18
If Patrick was right—and he was pretty sure he was—Thom was the bloke Tash had made breakfast for in the morning-after video from her Melbourne farewell party. Tash had never confirmed it, but Ceci’s sly digs in her comments had made it easy enough to figure out. Others had come straight out and asked, to no reply. ‘A lady,’ Tash had typed along with a winking emoticon, ‘never tells.’
Once he was certain he had the right man, Patrick had spent the half hour before the party probing Thom’s profiles to check he hadn’t gone bragging, but from what he could see Thom had kept quiet too. Just as well. Decent blokes didn’t boast about the women they’d had and a girl like Tash deserved proper respect.
Patrick took a mouthful of beer and contemplated the scene around the Poppy Flat. Thom was with Tash, panning with her action camera. The big camera was set up in the corner, close to the sliding door and trained on the terrace, where most people were standing or sitting in small, ever-changing clusters. No one seemed to mind being filmed. Tash was a local girl, Peter and Liz’s daughter, and they trusted her not to make them look fools.
No matter how hard he tried, Patrick couldn’t stop trying to figure out Thom’s appeal. He was good-looking enough, he supposed, if you liked that sort of thing. But Tash’s type? It was hard to imagine. In addition to chinos rolled up to expose pale, bare ankles and blue suede moccasins, the bloke was wearing matching blue braces and a ridiculous straw trilby tipped back on his head, like some sort of hillbilly grandpa. As for that stupid beard, all Patrick could think was ‘ponce’.
Maybe that’s what she liked these days, blokes with trendy beards and tilted hats, and twiggy legs and arms that looked as though they could barely lift a fence dropper. Patrick sucked hard on another mouthful. Thank god he was drinking light beer or he’d be hammered.
‘Having fun?’ asked Ceci, sidling next to him.
‘Food’s good.’
Sensational, in fact. As Tash promised, the gravlax stuff on the blini things were delicious. There’d also been little porcelain spoons filled with spiced and herbed crab meat that was like an Asian flavour explosion in his mouth, and bite-sized sausage rolls that tasted nothing like any sausage roll he’d ever eaten. A few of the guests had initially eyed the unfamiliar food with wariness but after the first, every subsequent tray Tash and Ceci walked around was fast emptied. Patrick hoped there’d be more. He wanted to savour everything she made.
Ceci tilted her head. ‘You’re being very quiet.’
Patrick shrugged. He didn’t know how to take Ceci. She was stunning to look at but with those big, slowly blinking eyes, deliberately purry voice, and a habit of touching him with her long smooth fingers, she was too predatory for his liking. But, like Thom, she was Tash’s friend and it was important to be polite. At least Tash hadn’t slept with Ceci. He quickly drank another long draught to clear the idea from his mind.
‘I think we’re going to lose her,’ said Ceci.
‘What?’
‘Tash.’ She lifted her wineglass towards Tash’s group. ‘Look at her, so happy. She loves it here. It suits her. You wait, I bet when the time comes she won’t want to leave.’
Patrick regarded Tash, now chatting animatedly to Clipper and Bec. The sun was low, the rays gilding the darkening edges of the yard. As she turned to laugh at something Clip said the sun caught her profile. Patrick found his breath catching at her sweet prettiness.
Everything about her was sweet. Her pale purple halter-neck dress was another of those hyper-girly outfits that showed off her hourglass figure and a teasing hint of cleavage. She was wearing make-up too, not much, but enough to added extra flush to her checks and plump her lips.
As though drawn by Patrick’s scrutiny she glanced his way and smiled, her entire face lighting with a radiance that came from more than her make-up and dress. That was Tash’s inner self in all her huge-heartedness. His own heart gave a slow, lurching somersault of longing, only to bellyflop when that ponce Thom returned too close to her side and blocked Patrick’s view.
He finished his drink and pointed to Ceci’s glass. ‘Want another one?’
‘Thanks.’
He returned to empty the bottle into her glass and settled into his third beer, this time a full-strength. He shouldn’t, but watching Thom with Tash had put him in a mood. It wasn’t a problem anyway. He could always leave his ute and catch a lift home with his parents, or walk.
Ceci was observing him carefully. ‘You two must have been close growing up.’
‘No closer than any of the other local kids.’
‘You seemed fairly intimate this morning, holding hands.’
Patrick said nothing. He searched to see if any more nibbles were coming but Tash was busy and Ceci was sticking her nose in. He wished there were wasabi peas to play roulette with. Hard to answer people when your throat and nasal passages were being burned out.
She leaned close, her voice low. He caught a mix of cigarette smoke and perfume. ‘She has no idea, you know that, don’t you?’
His heart thudded. ‘About what?’
‘You.’
Patrick’s gaze began to dart in panic.
‘You like her.’
He took a long mouthful of beer, playing for time. It had been a mistake to stand alone. He should have stayed with his parents, talking to Tony Leonardis. Or hunted down Baz, who was always good value. Grant was here, too, in a show of neighbourly solidarity, while Nicola remained home with Maddy.
‘Course I do,’ he said finally. ‘We’ve been friends a long time.’
‘Oh,’ said Ceci, leaning back, eyes twinkling knowingly, ‘I think it’s more than friends.’
‘I’m engaged.’
‘So Tash says, so you say.’ She placed her hand on his chest. ‘In there though …’
The panic became worse. He wanted to thrust her hand away. Wanted to run from her words, from the truth of them. How the hell did she know? Was it that obvious? Had Grant seen, had Liz and Peter?
Did Maddy know? Oh, Jesus, please not Maddy. She was suffering enough without that.
Suddenly Tash was there, the edges of her fingers feathering Patrick’s knuckles just enough to signal she had his back. His breath returned.
Ceci dropped her hand. ‘I was just telling Patrick our fear of losing you to Emu Springs forever.’
‘I don’t think so. My business isn’t called The Urban Ranger for nothing.’ She smiled at Patrick. ‘Did you try the gravlax?’
‘Yeah. It was good. Really good. All of it has been.’
‘Plenty more coming, so keep eating. Otherwise I’ll have to load you up with leftovers again.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oh, Minh’s here at last. I’d better say hello. Ceci, you want to come? Minh’s from the paper.’ Her fingers brushed his again and she was gone, taking her too-observant friend with her.
Deciding safety came from sticking with people he knew, Patrick joined his parents and Tash’s grandfather.
‘Good night?’ asked Baz.
‘Yeah. Great food.’
‘That’s my Floss.’ He beamed proudly. ‘And my veg. She’s cleaned me out. Still, few months and we’ll have something to crop here.’
‘How are you enjoying being on camera?’ asked Annette.
‘Bit of a lark. Seems to be going well for Tash though. She’s set me up with one of those Facebook pages. Not that I’ve looked at it much. Tash takes care of all that. I just tell her what I want to say and she puts it up.’ He indicated Coco, who had cleverly taken up position near the table to catch any dropped food scraps. ‘At least I have more fans than Coco now. Was a bit worried I was going to be out-starred by a dog for a while.’
Annette laughed. ‘I’m sure that would have been galling for you.’
He managed a mumble that could have meant anything.
‘She’s looking lovely tonight,’ said his mum, which made everyone look over at Tash. ‘She always was a pretty girl though.’
Tash was touching Minh’s shoulder and pointing to various people, then she indicated the flat and gestured to Ceci. With a last word, the pair disappeared inside and Minh lifted her camera to fiddle with its settings. The shadows were darkening fast now. She held the camera closer, only to look up in delight as strings of blue-and-white fairy lights blinked on, diamond bright. Ceci was back outside with long barbecue matches, igniting the wicks of tea lights that were suspended from jars beneath the bunches of jasmine. With every new flame, the glitter in the purple stools began to shimmer, transforming the small backyard into a fairyland.
‘Now that’s clever,’ said Annette.
‘That’s my girl,’ said Baz, sounding as though he could burst with pride.
Tash emerged carrying another tray of food that was quickly pounced on. Minh fought with Thom for the best shots, while Tash winked and nudged Clip and Bec until they both took seconds. Gradually she made her way over to Patrick’s group.
Baz peered over the tray. ‘What do we have this time?’
‘Asparagus and prosciutto frittata.’
Each small wedge had a fancy toothpick stabbed through its centre. Baz hooked one up, lofted it straight in his mouth and chewed, expression thoughtful. ‘Not bad, Flossie.’
Which earned him an elbow as Patrick’s dad savoured his bite. ‘What do you mean “not bad”? That was bloody good.’
Baz winked. ‘It’s all bloody good but we can’t have her getting a big head, can we?’
Patrick wasn’t a fan of asparagus but he tried a piece anyway, his eyebrows raising as his mouth was coated in cheesy smoothness, then something smoky before crunching onto a bit of pea-flavoured asparagus. ‘That’s good.’