With his weekend given over to bowls, Pa had his first session at Castlereagh the following Monday. A typical farmer, he arrived early, tapping on the glass door of the flat at five past six in the morning, and catching Tash asleep.
She shuffled her way to the door in her shortie pyjamas, slid it open and regarded him owlishly. ‘God, Pa, it’s barely dawn.’
‘Sun’s been up for an hour,’ he replied, way too perkily for Tash, whose eyelids scraped like sandpaper every time she blinked. ‘Cuppa?’
Tash groaned and waved at the kitchen before shuffling back to her room.
‘What are you looking so tired for anyway?’ he yelled, clinking and clunking his way around the kitchen as he searched for mugs and a teapot.
‘Late night.’
The clink-clunking suddenly stopped. ‘Boyfriend?’
Tash rolled her eyes at the excitement in his voice and pulled on a pair of practical cotton shorts, topping them off with a purple T-shirt emblazoned with sparkly unicorns that she’d scored at the market years earlier. Though frayed at the hem, she loved it too much to throw it out. Even if she didn’t feel sparkly, she could at least look it.
‘Hardly,’ she said, padding out into the kitchen and yawning widely. ‘Cupboard next to the fridge.’
‘Ah,’ he said, finally opening the correct door and finding the teapot. ‘What about that Thom?’
She slid onto a stool and leaned forward to place her cheek on the cool stainless steel surface of the bench. ‘Don’t you start.’
‘But didn’t—’
Her hand shot up in a stop sign. ‘Please, not until I’ve had caffeine.’
Tash wasn’t normally this slack. She typically bounced out of bed in the morning, but the night before she’d begun writing the introduction to her cookbook and found she couldn’t stop. Words had poured out. By the time she’d chronicled the origins of The Urban Ranger and described her lifelong passion for food, her relationship with her nan and those early kitchen lessons, she was on a roll. Anecdote after anecdote followed—tales of markets and the characters she’d become friendly with, stories of foraging suburban streets and asking bemused householders if they’d mind if she raided their lemon trees. How what had started out as a university assignment had grown into something so big it had taken over her life, but in the best possible way.
Five and a half thousand words later it was after midnight, which would have been fine, but Tash had then made the mistake of checking her social media. Discovering her awake and online, Ceci had immediately messaged her. Unfortunately for Tash, all Ceci wanted to discuss, in highly intimate detail, was her sizzling new relationship with Brandon. An hour later, Tash had managed to extricate herself, but the effort of controlling her rampant jealousy had left her so edgy it took forever for her to relax into sleep. And this was after a busy day mowing the lawns, trialling a recipe for lime and watermelon sorbet, editing a video, playing a vigorous game of fetch with Coco, checking out a church fete with her mum where, to Tash’s delight, she’d discovered a 1950s cookbook called Venus in the Kitchen dedicated to seduction by food, and preparing and sharing a Moroccan chicken tagine with her parents for Sunday-night dinner.
When Pa remained silent, she lifted her head. ‘What?’
‘You should have a boyfriend.’
And Tash would like one, but the buggers had a bad habit of falling for Ceci. Besides, she had enough on her plate.
‘I should have a lot of things.’ She smiled, appreciating her pa’s concern, and showing she was okay, which she was. Boyfriend or not, life was pretty damn good. ‘I’m fine, Pa.’
‘Young lass like you can’t live on scones alone. Hearts need feeding too.’ His eyes turned shiny. ‘Believe me, being lonely isn’t any fun.’
Tash slid off her stool and came to circle her arms around him. ‘I miss her too.’
‘She was a wonderful woman, your nan.’ Pa rubbed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. ‘You should have what we had.’
‘I hope I get it one day.’
He gave her a squeeze. ‘And how do you propose to do that if you don’t have a fella?’
‘I’ll find one, eventually.’ The kettle clicked off. Tash stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Just not this year.’
She munched a bowl of cereal while the tea brewed, and discussed vegetable varieties with Pa. Fast meals like stir-fries were becoming increasingly popular on her website and Tash wanted to grow a few Asian greens, as well as herbs like coriander, holy basil and lemongrass.
‘Might have to do a bit of research on those,’ said Pa.
‘Coriander’s easy, so’s the basil. I grew both in Melbourne. Holy basil behaves pretty much the same as normal basil, but we might have to grow the lemongrass in a pot and bring it inside in the winter. As for the others …’ She shrugged. ‘I guess they’d be similar to other brassicas.’
Breakfast finished, Tash rinsed the bowl and picked up her tea. Her eye caught her big camera, still set up from filming cooking demonstrations the day before. ‘We should do an intro, toast your welcome with our cuppas.’
‘If you want. What do I do?’
‘Just look down the lens and be yourself. It’s pretty easy.’
A few minutes of fiddling and Tash had the camera set. ‘Ready?’
Pa slicked back his silver fox mane and checked his stockman’s shirt was tucked in. Satisfied, he nodded. ‘When you are.’
Tash joined him at the bench and slung an arm around his waist. She grinned up at him. ‘Time to show us your stuff, Pa-Star.’ Using the remote, she clicked record and grinned broadly as she mentally counted down from three.
‘Hi, everyone! Today I have someone very special to introduce. A man who’s been part of my life forever and who I love very much. Say hello to Basil Ranger, my darling pa, and the newest addition to the Urban Ranger cast.’ She gave him an affectionate squeeze. ‘Pa’s coming on board as our gardening guru. What this man doesn’t know about growing fruit and veg isn’t worth knowing, so when he talks, you’d better listen.’ Tash gave him a subtle nudge with her hip, which was his cue to speak.
Pa beamed at the camera. ‘Call me Baz, everyone else does.’ He looked proudly down at Tash before cocking his head towards her and wiggling his eyebrows. ‘How’s my granddaughter? Good sort, isn’t she?’
‘Pa!’
‘Single, too.’
Tash put her free hand to her burning cheek and shook her head. ‘Don’t listen to him.’
‘You just told them to.’
‘About growing veg!’
‘I know about more than growing veg.’ Like an old pro, and in a move reminiscent of Tash herself, he bent conspiratorially forward and winked at the camera. ‘Keep watch and you might learn more than you bargained for.’
Tash groaned before bursting into laughter and poking him in the ribs. ‘That was not how this was meant to go.’
Pa donned an innocent expression. ‘You never gave me a script. You said be yourself. So I was.’ He stared down the camera lens again and released a theatrical sigh. ‘It’s hard to get good help.’
Tash was still laughing when she picked up the remote to stop filming. ‘I think we might have to do that again.’
But when she reviewed the footage, although deeply embarrassing, it was also hugely entertaining. Pa had proved himself a star, just like his new nickname. He had a way of staring so directly at the viewer, and with such a twinkle in his eye, it was as if he were flirting in person. Tash knew in her heart her fans would adore it.
Anyway, Pa flat out refused a second take, so she was stuck with it.
She took more footage throughout the morning on her phone. Pa seemed to know when something might be interesting, and kept beckoning her over. Pulling out a sick-looking tomato plant, he inspected its roots, harrumphed, and ordered Tash to start filming.
‘See that?’ he said, pointing a dirt-stained finger at the plant’s truncated and tumour-bobbled roots. ‘Nematodes. Probably root-knot nematode. They like tomatoes.’
‘Nematodes?’ asked Tash. She knew what they were but her viewers might not. ‘As in worms?’
He nodded. ‘Microscopic ones. They’re parasites that feed on a plant’s roots until they’re so damaged the plant can no longer absorb water and nutrients.’
‘So what can we do about it?’ asked Tash.
He indicated the bed and its tangle of neglected tomato plants. ‘Pull out and burn this lot for starters.’ He stared solemnly at the camera. ‘Never compost nematode-infected plants or you’ll spread the things everywhere. We’ll dig the lot over and plant mustard as a green mulch. That stops the buggers. They don’t like things spicy.’
‘Can’t we spray or something?’
The look Pa skewered past the camera to Tash was priceless.
‘Sorry.’ She went on after a contrite pause. ‘Is there any way we can save the bed though? I was hoping to have them all in production this winter.’
Pa scratched his chin and regarded the tomato roots, then threw the yellowy, wilted plant aside and bent to grab another by the base. Like the previous one, it yielded easily. A quick, grim inspection and he threw it on top of its mate. ‘Maybe. Resistant plants I suppose. Broccoli, sprouts. Companion-plant a few marigolds.’
‘Marigolds? What do they do?’
‘Same as mustard. They leach stuff into the soil that’s toxic to the worms.’
‘Any other things we can try?’
Lifting his hat and scrubbing his silvery hair, Pa considered. ‘You could lay down plastic for a month or so. Cook the little blighters.’ He glanced at the clear sky. ‘It’s hot enough.’
That sounded a good solution to Tash. That way the bed would still be usable for the rest of the year. ‘Why don’t we try that then?’
‘Mustard green mulch is better.’ He threw her another look before focusing on the camera and waggling a finger. ‘Now you lot listen up. Gardening’s like a good woman. You treat her properly, and you don’t rush. Cheat and take shortcuts, and mark my words she’ll know and turn her back on you. Fair enough, too.’ Suddenly he grinned, cheeky and handsome, and Tash guessed there’d be quite a few hearts sent a-fluttering at that grin once the video went live. ‘See? Told you you’d learn more than you bargained for!’
More asides followed, homegrown snippets of wisdom about fruit, veg, love and life. Excited by her pa’s performance, Tash kept them working, even though it messed up the day’s schedule. This was gold, and she could always make up the lost time later.
So enamoured was she with her pa and his potential, Tash didn’t realise her phone was going flat until someone tried to call. Admittedly, it had been beeping for a while, but usually the battery lasted for ages, even when low. The phone call proved its undoing. With a shudder and a half-strangled electronic jangle, it died.
Which was no wonder, thought Tash when she took it inside to put it on to charge and noticed the time. They’d been going for hours. Yelling at Pa to come in for a cuppa, she let the phone absorb some charge while she washed her hands, before checking her missed calls and then her messages, frowning when she heard Nicola’s voice.
A frown that only deepened when she heard Nicola’s proposal.
‘What is it?’ asked Pa, walking inside and clocking her face.
She stared at him, her belly tight.
‘Floss?’
Slowly, Tash placed the phone back on the bench and folded her arms over her chest. ‘That was Nicola.’
His expression turned wary. Pa was the only person who knew about her falling out with Maddy, and how difficult Tash found the situation. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone, but Pa had weaselled it out one weekend when she was home from uni, after noticing how reluctant she was to visit her best friend. To Tash’s relief he’d been sympathetic. Best of all, he’d made her see the pointlessness of carrying on with her guilt. They’d both said stupid things, acted childishly, but that was in the past. What mattered was the future, and Maddy and the Handrecks needed their love and understanding.
‘Is it about Maddy?’
‘No.’ She winced. It was about Maddy. It was about both of them, their friendship, the things they both loved. ‘Sort of.’
‘Well?’
‘Nicola and Grant want me to come over for a chat,’ she said slowly. ‘About Khan.’ She stared at him, biting her lip and blinking. ‘Pa, they want to give me Maddy’s horse.’