by Cathryn Hein
She soothed some more, promising her friend that she’d be fine. Tash and Thom and everyone else who cared for her would make sure of it. Ceci’s self-recrimination continued—the should-have-dones and I-should-have-realiseds. When the sobs finally subsided to hiccups and sniffles, followed by an angry, more Ceci-like spiel about what arseholes men were, Tash felt safe to ask for Thom.
‘Ceci, honey, can you put Thom on for me? Just for a minute.’
Thom came on the line. ‘Fucker,’ he said.
Tash knew he meant Brandon and not her. ‘Is she really all right?’
‘Yeah, just frightened.’
Tash dropped her voice. ‘Do you think he’ll come back?’
Thom’s response was stony. ‘He’d better not.’
‘You’ll stay with her tonight?’
‘You bet. I’m not leaving her unprotected.’
Tash let out a breath. ‘Good.’ She could be there tonight herself if she left straight away, but Ceci needed someone on hand now and Thom lived only two doors down. ‘Thanks, Thom. You’re a darling.’
‘I’d do anything, you know that.’ His tone had turned quiet and Tash could hear the pain in it. When Ceci hurt, so did Thom.
‘I know. Can you put Ceci back on? Oh, and don’t forget to take photos of her cut and all the broken things. She might need them. In case.’
Tash spoke to Ceci for several minutes longer, extracting promises to lock her doors and windows, and to let Thom take care of her, and to call the police immediately if there was any further sign of trouble.
Tash ended the call and swapped the phone for the glass of wine Patrick had poured. She took a long gulp and slumped onto a stool.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
‘Ceci broke up with Brandon. He didn’t take it well.’
Patrick’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean not well?’
‘As in turned violent.’ She rubbed her face. Poor Ceci. Tash couldn’t imagine how terrified she must have been. ‘She thought he was okay about it at first. Things hadn’t been going well between them anyway, and Ceci figured it would hardly come as a surprise. Then without warning he shoved her backwards onto the couch and told her she couldn’t break up with him, he wouldn’t let her. She didn’t realise the danger and said she was breaking it off whether he liked it or not. At which point he went ballistic, started smashing things. When she tried to stop him he threw her to the floor. She landed on some broken glass and cut her arm. Not badly, but there was blood. When he saw it he stormed out.’
‘Jesus.’ Patrick scraped a hand over his hair. ‘What if he comes back?’
‘Thom’s there.’
‘Thom? He couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag.’
‘Thom would fight an army for Ceci.’ At Patrick’s disbelieving expression Tash smiled. ‘He loves her. Has done since they first met.’
Digesting that took Patrick a while. ‘But … you and him.’
Tash leaned forward to press her forehead to the cool benchtop and sighed. She’d already explained it was a drunk comfort thing. What more did he need to know? She tilted her head. Patrick’s expression was total bewilderment.
She sighed again. ‘It’s like this: Thom was mad for Ceci. I had a crush on Brandon. I hosted a party after which Ceci and Brandon went home together. Thom and I drowned our sorrows. Stuff happened.’
‘You had a crush on this Brandon shit?’
‘Embarrassing as it is to admit, yes I did.’ Tash pushed back upright. ‘I always did have God-awful judgement when it came to men.’
‘You’re telling me.’
Tash poked her tongue out at him.
‘Thom,’ he said.
‘Shut up. Thom’s lovely.’
‘Brandon.’
‘To be fair, we all thought Brandon was perfectly normal.’
‘Until he turned psycho.’ He nudged her. ‘Mitch Green.’
Tash turned indignant at that. ‘Mitch was a sweetheart.’
‘He was a weedy little nerd. You could have done heaps better than him. But like I said to Maddy, you’d have figured that out for yourself eventually.’
‘What did she say to that?’
Patrick shrugged. ‘I can’t really remember. It was a while ago. I think she made some crack that you’d probably feel so guilty about ditching him it’d take you forever, and she’d end up having to step in and put the poor bugger out of his misery. Anyway, you have to admit, he was hardly your type. You always went for blokes like Clip and—’ He stopped.
‘You,’ she finished for him. It was true. She had, but their indifference had been palpable. To Clip, Patrick and all the other sporty beautiful types she’d hankered for, Tash was never anything more than a friend. Maddy’s chubby, cheerful sidekick.
A bubble of bitter laughter rose inside her. She could see it now. Patrick and Maddy discussing her, agreeing on how Tash could ‘do so much better’ than Mitch. Then Maddy taking it on herself to fix the situation. It was so like her: impulsive, unthinking, mistaken, yet certain she was doing the right thing.
The bubble of laughter burst to nothing. All Tash felt was sad.
‘I loved him. He wasn’t tall or good-looking or athletic like you, but he was smart. Really smart. And he was sweet and kind and funny.’ She smiled wistfully at the memory. ‘He used to call me his pretty girl, even when I was feeling fat and ugly and was convinced no one would ever watch my silly show. He always said it like he meant it, like he truly believed in me.’ She looked at Patrick. ‘You know it was Maddy that broke us up?’
‘What?’ His gaze locked, incredulous, on hers. ‘How?’
‘She said something to him, that holiday, you know, when she stopped with me. He wouldn’t tell me what, only that it’d be better in the long run if he left. I had a huge fight with Maddy about it. She was right, though. If Mitch was serious about me, if he was a better man, the right man, he would have told her to mind her own business. But he wasn’t and I guess at the end of the day he didn’t love me enough. But Maddy shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I know she probably thought she was doing me a favour but she had no right.’
‘I didn’t know,’ said Patrick after a while. ‘She never said.’
Tash supposed Maddy wouldn’t have. It wasn’t her finest hour, or Tash’s.
‘You know what was really horrible? We weren’t talking when she had her accident. I was so mad with her I’d shut her out. I wanted her to know what it felt like to be dumped by someone you cared about. It was meant to be a temporary thing, to teach her a lesson, but then she got hurt and it was too late to take it back.’ Tash rubbed at her achy chest. ‘It was awful, having to visit, not knowing if she wanted me there. But it was expected, and you were all going through so much. I didn’t want to add to that.’
Patrick ran his palms back and forth over the edge of the bench, eyes lowered. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘Maddy.’ He grimaced. ‘And me. It was none of our business.’
‘Oh, Patrick, it’s not your fault. It’s all ancient history now.’
‘But you were hurt.’
‘Yes, and I hurt back. None of that makes it right. It’s just something we have to live with.’ She mustered a smile. ‘Now, let’s have dinner and talk about nice things.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Don’t.’ Tash touched his arm. ‘Please. I have enough to worry about with Ceci and Thom. Let’s not add this to it.’
They were clearing up when Tash’s phone jangled again. At the flash of Ceci’s name on the screen her lungs emptied. She hit answer and was immediately assaulted by an overexcited squeal.
‘Tash! Omigod! You would not believe what just happened!’
‘What?’
‘Thom punched him! On the nose! You should have seen it. One minute Bran was at the door carrying on, next thing Thom’s standing over him like Mohammad Ali. It was awesome.’
‘Thom punched him?’
> ‘Yeah, like kapow!’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Bran? God, I hope not. Bastard.’
Tash couldn’t help laughing. The relief was too much. ‘I meant Thom.’
‘Yes.’ Ceci’s voice softened. ‘His hand is a bit funny looking though.’
‘Put some frozen peas on it and take him to hospital. He might have broken a bone.’
‘He reckons he’s fine.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I think he’s trying to be all manly, pretending it doesn’t hurt.’
Tash thought the same. A bare-fisted punch didn’t come without consequences, for both parties. ‘Put the big hero on for me?’
‘Hey,’ said Thom.
‘Hey, slugger. How’s your hand?’
‘Bit sore, but it’ll be all right.’
‘You big hero.’
‘Fucker deserved it.’ His tone brightened. ‘Ran off like a girl after I punched him.’
‘Good. Might make him think twice about coming back if he knows you’re guarding her.’
‘I’ll get Ceci to report it anyway, just in case. Apply for an AVO.’ He paused. ‘No doubt the turd will take one out on me too.’
Tash thought that likely. Then again, after what Brandon did to Ceci he might let it go, but that was something they’d find out in time.
‘I’d better get on to making these phone calls,’ he said.
‘Make sure you get that hand checked out too. Oh, and Thom?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Like I said, I’d do anything.’
She hung up, thinking of her friends and, strangely, of Maddy. No one’s friendship was perfect because people weren’t perfect. But sometimes mistakes were made for what at the time were believed to be the right reasons. Perhaps if Thom and Tash hadn’t berated Ceci for being mean to Brandon she wouldn’t have stuck with him for so long. Perhaps if Tash had worked things out with Maddy instead of acting like a child and giving her the silent treatment, she’d still be sure of their friendship instead of stuck in limbo, guessing at what Maddy might want.
‘Perhaps if’ a lot of things. They were like sliding doors into different dimensions. A person could waste a lifetime peering through but that wouldn’t change what had already taken place. All Tash or anybody could do was learn and walk on.
‘You okay?’ asked Patrick.
She looked up. He was neatly folding a tea towel that needed to go into the wash. She took it off him and tossed it into the laundry basket. ‘Yes.’
‘Ceci and Thom?’
‘You figured out what happened?’
He shrugged. ‘I gather Brandon came back for another go and Thom gave him a thump.’
‘Uh huh. Hopefully that’ll be the end of it. But who knows?’ Tash leaned against the bench. It’d been a hell of an evening.
‘You look tired.’
She managed a small smile. ‘Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel good.’
His return smile lasted barely a second before it faded. He shoved his fists into his pockets. ‘I’d better get going. Thanks for dinner.’ At the door he paused. ‘I really am sorry about Mitch.’
Tash lifted a hand in dismissal. ‘Like I said, all ancient history now.’
With a nod, Patrick slid open the door and stepped through. He stood for a moment with his shoulders hunched and his head down. Then he lifted his head to regard her with creased blue eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought you were pretty. Still do.’
And with a final sad smile, he was gone, leaving a gobsmacked Tash breathing rapid puffs of steam into the dark velvet night.
Chapter 27
Tash’s stomach was full of worms when she drove into Springbank the following morning. She’d toyed with the idea of riding Khan over but had dismissed it. The Handrecks had far greater problems than Tash being lumped with Maddy’s horse. For all she knew they could be planning to take Khan with them.
With speed typical of rural communities, word had spread about the Handrecks’ plans. Tash’s mum had phoned immediately to offer assistance, and other kindnesses were no doubt flooding in. Moving house was hard enough but the Handrecks had the extra burden of Maddy. Then there were the memories, the cling of home and bygone days. There’d been Handrecks at Castlereagh Road since the early 1900s—leaving it carried a load far heavier than possessions.
No one had thought to ask about Khan. Tash had to bring the subject up herself, collaring her parents over breakfast. Their response was as expected—Khan would always be welcome at Castlereagh. Like Patrick, they assumed she’d be returning regularly for weekends, an assumption that left Tash feeling more than a little annoyed. She understood that they loved her and didn’t want her drifting away from them again, but Tash had a career to think of. As long as Khan was at Castlereagh he would be her responsibility, and in light of her ambitions that made him a burden she didn’t want.
Tash wasn’t so naive as to believe The Urban Ranger could last forever, but she would damn well give it her best shot.
‘You look great after your holiday, Nicola,’ said Tash when she arrived at the house. Colour had returned to the older woman’s skin and the haggard weariness that had aged her prematurely had faded. Tash had made a juicy carrot and walnut cake and frosted it with a thick layer of lemon cream cheese icing as a comfort offering. She handed it over. ‘For you and Grant. To keep your energy up.’
‘You’re a sweetie,’ said Nicola, kissing her cheek and finding a spot for the cake on the crowded bench top. ‘Sorry about the mess. It’s a bit chaotic here at the moment.’
Where a set of drawers normally fitted into the built-in cabinets a dark gap yawned, as if the kitchen had dropped a tooth. The drawers were stacked on top of one another next to the fridge, their contents gathered into piles at one end of the table—paper in one, household minutiae in another, and another of kitchen gadgets.
‘It’s extraordinary the amount of junk we have.’ Nicola picked up a manual from the top of a pile and waggled it. ‘This is for a vacuum cleaner we bought thirty years ago!’
‘Mum’s drawers are the same. It’s just one of those things. Stuff goes in, never to come out again.’
Nicola dropped the manual and regarded the piles with a kind of fond dismay. ‘The whole house is like this. It’s going to take forever to sort.’
‘I can help, if you need.’
‘No. You have enough with your business. Now,’ she said, smacking her hands together, ‘let’s make tea and sample your cake.’
Tash couldn’t help nosing through the gadget and minutiae piles. There were things there she hadn’t seen since childhood: rubber band seals for preserving jar lids, a crank-handled bean chopper, a plastic and wire egg slicer, a stainless-steel biscuit-pressing kit that looked like it had never been used.
Nicola gestured at the table. ‘If you see anything you like, help yourself.’
Tash picked up the biscuit-press box and turned it over. ‘Are you sure?’
‘God yes. That thing has never been out of its packet.’
Tash scanned the glossy photos and hyperbole on the box. Flawless biscuits—or cookies as the pack insisted on calling them—in stunning shapes were just a press away. ‘I remember Nan having one of these.’
Nicola placed a cup of tea in front of Tash and stood back to sip her own. ‘They were all the rage for a while. But who wants perfect biscuits?’
‘Me?’
Nicola laughed and Tash smiled.
‘It’s all yours,’ said Nicola, picking up a plastic-handled can piercer and screwing her nose up. ‘One item down, ten thousand to go.’
Without meaning to, Tash found herself helping Nicola sort through the table mess. With cups of tea and slices of cake at hand, they tossed out junk and pondered curiosities. Occasionally an item would give Nicola pause. She’d turn it over in her hand, nostalgia softening her face, and regale Tash with an anecdote about how it came to be in their house, or some other
funny little story from the past. Tash soon had a box full of goodies she had no idea where she would stow.
‘I’m going to end up exactly like you, Mum, Nan and every other woman in this town,’ she said. ‘Overloaded with junk.’
‘Not junk. Useful things. And you are the kitchen goddess.’
‘Now armed with a stainless-steel biscuit press. Fantastic.’
They lapsed into silence for a moment before Nicola reached across and squeezed Tash’s hand. ‘Thanks for helping make this a bit more bearable. It’s nice to be able to laugh about something.’ She scanned the rest of the room, the walls and cupboards and shelves that had oozed family for so many years. ‘I suspect I have a lot of crying ahead.’
‘You don’t have to do this on your own. You have friends.’
‘I know. Lovely friends like Annette and your mum, who I’ll miss terribly.’ She settled sympathetic eyes on Tash. ‘Liz rang earlier. She mentioned you were worried about Khan.’
‘Oh,’ said Tash, feeling squirmy. Khan seemed such a small matter now.
‘Do you mind?’
‘The thing is, I won’t always be here. Wouldn’t it be better to find him a permanent home? Perhaps with a young pony clubber who’ll love him to bits.’
‘Then sell him on to God knows where when she leaves town? No. There are too many uncertainties with that. At least this way we know he’ll be looked after and Liz has promised it’s not a problem. In fact, she thought it was a wonderful idea. She said you’ve formed a real attachment to Khan, and it’s not as if you won’t be back for visits.’
Tash picked up a rubber band and began stretching and winding it around her fingers. She was fond of Khan, more than fond. Like she’d become more than fond of Coco. But that didn’t mean she could take on the responsibility.
‘Maddy wouldn’t want him to go to a stranger,’ said Nicola. ‘You’re her best friend and you love horses as much as she does. She’d want him to go to you.’
Tash tossed the band on the rubbish pile. What choice did she have? Khan would be staying at Castlereagh, regardless of her objections. She was beginning to get a small indication of how Patrick felt: manipulated and unable to push back.