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.’
‘Wouldn’t have impressed the ladies, that’s for sure. Speaking of ladies, that Ceci’s a piece.’ He lifted an eyebrow at Patrick. ‘Not a patch on my Floss though, hey, Patrick?’
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.’
‘Have another. Go on, you may as well clear the tray.’
‘Will there be more?’ asked Baz, looking worried.
‘Course there will, Pa-Star. Can’t have my number-one garden expert fading away.’ She smiled at Patrick. ‘Or anyone else.’
With the tray empty, Tash checked they were okay for drinks and skipped off, pausing as she went to make sure everyone was having fun, before disappearing back to her kitchen.
Patrick watched her the entire time, his gaze switching between her face and body, and lingering on her shapely breasts and hips.
‘Good sort our Tash,’ said Baz, voice low. Patrick’s parents had turned to talk to the McDayles. ‘Be nice if she could find a good fella. One who’ll treat her right. Maybe one of your mates?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Might ask about myself.’
‘Not a lot of point if she’s not planning to hang around.’
‘Don’t you worry about that. Flossie’ll hang, you’ll see.’
Patrick remembered the way Tash had reacted to Ceci when she’d mentioned staying on. Her response had been unequivocal. Tash’s business was city-based. This was simply a marketing exercise to broaden her appeal. She’d probably return for weekends and holidays but her life was elsewhere, away from her family. Away from him.
He took another slug of beer and was surprised to find his stubbie almost empty. Jesus. He needed to slow down.
Thom ringing a spoon loudly against a bottle brought everyone to attention. Tash stood near the table, her hands clasped in front of her. As she began to speak, Thom stepped aside to film.
‘Thank you all so much for coming. It’s an honour and a delight to host you at Castlereagh. You may not have noticed, but many of the treats you’ve tried tonight were made from locally sourced ingredients, either commercially produced or grown by our district’s talented and enthusiastic gardeners. Those sausage rolls? That was lamb from Runnymeade.’ She indicated Malcolm and Ellie Duffy, a local couple making a name for themselves growing large-framed Wiltshire Horns for the fat lamb market. ‘The pork rillettes are thanks to Tony.’ She pointed to Tony Leonardis. ‘Just about every fruit and vegetable used, along with the eggs, were from my grandfather’s garden.
‘I love this place and I’m proud of the world-class produce that’s grown here. My goal over the coming months is to showcase as much of that produce as I can, along with the natural clean beauty of our district and its generous, hard-working population. Emu Springs is special and very, very dear to me, and I want the world to know its treasures. It’s been hidden too long.
‘In closing, I’d like to say a sincere thanks to my parents, Peter and Liz, without whom The Urban Ranger Goes Country could never be possible. Also to my Pa, Baz, now enjoying a second career as an internet star, and to my good friends from Melbourne, Ceci and Thom, whose visit provided the perfect excuse for a party, and who worked with me to set this up. A quick round of applause if you please.’
When the clapping had ended Tash smiled. ‘Thank you. Now, hang in there because it’s time for dessert.’
More applause, a few cheers and a piercing wolf-whistle from Clip followed. Laughing, Tash held her skirt and curtsied before heading inside, returning almost immediately with a tray of tiny pavlovas flavoured with lemon myrtle and wattle seed. They were followed by sugary little tartlets filled with cream and topped with berries, mini Nutella cheesecakes, and three different kinds of truffles. Ceci joked loudly that Castlereagh sounded more like a swinger’s club with all the pleasure-induced moans.
The night drifted. Coffee was offered along with shots of Tash’s homemade chocolate cream liqueur. Gradually, people began to leave, sharing hugs and kisses with Tash, and wearing smiles from a night well enjoyed.
‘We might head too,’ said Patrick’s mum. ‘Do you want to come with us?’
The sensible thing to do was to accept the offer. ‘I might stay for a while. Clip looks like he’s not moving yet.’
He went to join his friend who, thanks to Bec being designated driver, had downed more than his fair share of beers.
‘All right, mate?’ said Clip, handing him a fresh beer from the esky he’d conveniently parked himself next to.
‘Yeah.’
‘Bloody fantastic tucker.’
‘It was.’
‘Plenty of beer too. She’s a top bird, Tash. Knows how to throw a party.’ He eyed the yard with approval. ‘This is what we need for the wedding. Backyard, beers, good tucker, maybe a band. Couple of fire drums.’ Clip nodded to himself. ‘Bloke’d be happy with that.’
‘A bloke’s wife wouldn’t,’ said Bec returning from a loo visit and bunting her shoulder against Clip’s. ‘It’d be just our luck it’d rain and we’ve already booked the golf club. Although how we’re going to fit everyone in is anyone’s guess. Between Clip’s mum and mine, the guest list is out of control.’
‘See, Pat? Weddings are all about the women. Us blokes never get a look-in.’
More good-natured grumbling followed, before the conversation moved on to the upcoming football season and training. They managed to sneak in another beer each before Bec called it quits.
‘Come on, you great oaf,’ she said, pushing Clip gently in the back.
Clip jerked his head at her. ‘Look at that, will ya? Not even married yet and she’s ordering me around.’
‘Just getting you used to it.’
Clip grinned and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. ‘Love her though.’
‘Come on!’
Patrick smiled as Clip wobbled off, one hand on Bec’s shoulder to keep himself steady. Their wedding was going to be huge, the buck’s night even bigger.
Clip had asked Patrick to be best man but he’d turned him down. Their good mate Angus would do a decent job, and the night when Maddy was found was too raw and probably always would be. Patrick had been on a buck’s trip then. A bunch of country blokes let loose in Melbourne. After God knows how many beers in God knows how many pubs they’d ended up in some sleazy strip joint, and all the while Maddy had been fighting for her life. By the time Patrick staggered back to his hotel room and discovered his phone almost dead from the weight of the messages it carried, Maddy had already been air-lifted to Melbourne. He was still drunk when he turned up at the hospital. Drunk and sick and bearing shame he would carry for a long, long time.
Clip had understood. He’d expected Patrick’s answer but it was decent of the man that he’d even asked. That he wanted Patrick to know he thought him a good enough friend to be his best man, despite the way Patrick had been recently.
With Clip and Bec gone Patrick was the only remaining guest. He should leave too but the only way home was to walk or drive and he’d definitely had too many full-strength beers to risk the latter.
‘You’re still here,’ said Ceci. ‘How about that.’
‘Yeah. How about it.’
‘Another beer?’
‘Probably shouldn’t.’
‘Probably should.’ She winked and wandered past the speakers, cranking the music up. Minutes later she was back with Patrick’s beer and her own glass brimming with white wine. She took a gulp and swayed, and Patrick realised she was plastered. ‘Tash’s parties always go late. She likes to dance.’
Patrick remembered the day he’d spotted her dancing in the garden with Khan. ‘Not my thing.’
‘Perhaps you should make it yours.’ She eyed him sideways. ‘Thom always dances with her.’
He gave a ‘who cares?’ shrug.
She swayed closer, winking ostentatiously. ‘Tonight I’ll do you a favour. I’ll dance with Thom.’
Patrick had too much alcohol in his system to experience the same panic of discovery he’d felt earlier. He was tired, a bit drunk, and all he really wanted now was to get Tash alone to say thanks for a good night and start walking the six kilometres home. It’d do him good. Night air and exercise might clear his head of the muck swirling around inside it. And the walk past Springbank would provide a much-needed reminder of where his priorities lay.
‘Tash inside, is she?’
Ceci pouted. She really was hammered. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘I just need to find Tash. Look, Thom’s here. You two can dance.’ He nudged her towards Thom, who’d lost the hat but still looked stupid to Patrick.
Tash was at the sink. He watched her from the doorway for a few seconds. She was humming to the music and swaying, but not drunkenly like Ceci. Happily.
Patrick spotted a tea towel on the bench. Dumping his beer, he picked it up and reached for a pot.
She looked up from her work. ‘Oh, I thought you were Thom.’
‘Bit bigger than him.’
‘You are, and just as nice. Thanks. Ceci seems to have deserted me, not that that’s anything new. She hates doing dishes.’ She held up a soapy hand and wiggled her fingers. ‘It’s not good for her nails.’
‘No one likes doing dishes.’
‘I don’t mind it that much, actually. Gives me a chance to think over what worked and what didn’t.’
‘I thought everything worked. Food was great, the yard looked amazing. Everyone had a good time.’
‘And you? Did you have a good time?’
He thought of Ceci and her smug teasing. His night had been a combination of nerves, jealousy, pride and want. Good wasn’t the word he’d choose, except he didn’t want to disappoint. ‘Yeah.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’ Her face changed. ‘Ah. Of course. Sorry about that.’
‘About what?’
Tash checked over her shoulder. ‘Ceci. She can be a bit … flirty. Especially after too many sauv blancs.’ She lowered her voice even further. ‘She didn’t put the hard word on you, did she?’
‘No.’ He lowered the pot to the bench and picked up another. There weren’t many left. He wished there was a pile so he could keep talking to her. From outside came the sound of Ceci’s out-of-tune singing, followed by giggles. ‘Funny behaviour for a girl with a boyfriend.’
For a brief moment Tash appeared wistful. ‘A very nice boyfriend too. I don’t think she means it. It’s just a game.’ She scrubbed at a stubborn stain. ‘It’s silly though. Ceci’s actually quite clever but for some reason she hides it.’
Not from Patrick, she didn’t. Unfortunately.
‘I don’t know why. Maybe she worries men might find the combination of beauty and brains too intimidating.’ Tash smiled. ‘What a worry to have.’
She blew air out from her bottom lip, directing it upward and making the tendril of hair that was annoying her flutter. The steam that had settled on her forehead from the hot dishwater made it stick back in place. Setting aside his dried pot, Patrick used his index finger to ease the hair out of her eyes, his touch lingering to rest at her temple.
It was intimate, nice. The sort of thing he would have once done for Maddy. Except this felt different. This felt better. Perfect. Like the universe was aligning.
Tash was still, her startled gaze fixed on the tiled splashback. Patrick’s heart thumped. He should take his hand away now but she was warm and sweet and he was drunk, and he didn’t want to stop what was happening.
Softly, slowly, he caressed the length of her cheek and along the edge of her face. Her rapid, shallow breaths caused his attention to slip to her mouth and then chest. The exposed skin was flushed and shiny. Her breasts rising and falling. Patrick rested the tips of his fingers on the satin skin below her jawline. One tiny lift and her face would tilt towards him. He could lower his mouth. Touch her, breathe her.
He shouldn’t.
Tash’s pink lips parted.
Yeah, he should.