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.
‘All right.’
‘Thank you.’ Nicola smiled in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry we’d forgotten about him, and you. We should have talked to you earlier but …’ She gestured uselessly.
‘It’s okay. You’ve had bigger things to worry about.’
Nicola’s gaze drifted to Maddy’s room. ‘Yes.’ Her hands tangled together. ‘I hope she’ll forgive us.’
‘I’m sure she will.’
‘I’m not sure Patrick will. I think he hates us right now. But we had to do it, for our own sanity as well as for Maddy. And watching him wasting his life was too heartbreaking. As for Annette and Derek, they were in complete despair. We love our daughter, and if there was any hope she could return to the girl she was we’d be proud to have Patrick standing by her side. But the sad truth is that will never happen. He knows that, but nothing we or his parents or anyone could say would make him face that it was time to move on.’
‘He didn’t want to break his promise.’
‘No, and we appreciate that. But Maddy would never have wanted him to be this way. She’d have wanted him to have a proper life, full of happiness and love, I’m sure of it.’ Determination edged her voice. ‘Now he has no choice.’
No choice. That mantra again.
Tash rose. After Nicola’s last words she wasn’t sure she was in the right frame of mind for a talk with Maddy, but it had to be done. ‘I should go and say hello.’
She found Maddy on her side, staring vacantly. Tash pulled up the stool and sat close. She scrutinised Maddy’s face, thinking of Patrick and his fear that sometimes he thought she understood.
‘Patrick came around last night. We talked about you, about Mitch and what happened between us. It made me realise that I never apologised for how I acted. Afterwards, I mean. We should have talked it out instead of fighting, instead of …’ She blinked at the sting in her eyes. ‘I know you felt bad about it, I know you were sorry, but I couldn’t help it. I was just so hurt. But I want you to know that I’m sorry too. I should have behaved better. Our friendship was worth more than that.’ She breathed out a jagged breath and smiled crookedly. ‘We always were our own worst enemies. You with your fearlessness and me with my crappy confidence.’
She rested her elbows on her thighs and studied the person who had been her best friend, with who she’d shared so many rites of passage, so much fun, so much growing up. The gorgeous young woman who had captured Patrick’s heart and held him spellbound.
‘There’s something else I need to tell you.’
Tash looked down at her gripped hands, wondering why this admission was harder than the last. Why she even had to share it. Chances were it would never come to anything. Tash was by nature an optimist, but experience had taught her well when it came to men like Maddy’s fiancé.
‘It’s about Patrick.’ She looked up, intent on Maddy’s expression. ‘I have feelings for him. And I think …’ She swallowed. ‘I think he has feelings for me, and I don’t know what to do about it because it’s always been you and now you’re leaving …’ She rubbed her face. ‘Your mum says you’d want Patrick to move on and find someone else.’
Her voice dropped even lower. She edged closer to Maddy’s face, sweeping its contours, hunting for something, anything.
‘But, Maddy, what if that person was me?’