Page 19 of Wild Horses
The news report that had so shaken Tyler and Leo was casting a shadow over them both. Christy watched helplessly as Leo retreated into himself, the fledgling trust he’d been building with his father lost. For a while it seemed as though they’d never get it back.
However, as the weeks passed without further news of the reopened enquiry, the initial shock and sting of the revelation began to fade into the background of daily life.
Christy noticed the slow but sure steps Tyler and Leo were taking towards each other once more.
It wasn’t a rapid healing, but rather a gradual mending of their relationship.
No more news reports emerged, which seemed to give both father and son a certain respite from anxiety.
Amid this delicate recovery, an unexpected project was born – one that accelerated their coming together.
Tyler, in a burst of inspiration, had proposed that the first performance in the almost finished school hall should be a culinary cabaret show.
The idea was to merge his gourmet expertise with the theatrical flair Christy and Astrid brought to the table.
The project, conceived as a way to involve all the Currawong Creek teens, had unexpectedly become a bridge between father and son.
Christy and Tyler had joined forces to pitch the idea to management.
‘Are they going to love it or think we’re mad?’ Tyler had mused, standing beside her with crossed arms as they waited for Clare and Tom to join them in the recreation room.
‘Bit of both, maybe,’ Christy said nervously. ‘Hang on to your hat – here they are.’
Clare and Tom came in, followed by Samson. The German shepherd followed Clare wherever she went when her son Jack wasn’t around. When the boy was home, he and Samson were inseparable.
‘Hi, guys.’ Tom regarded them expectantly. ‘I believe you two have some sort of proposal for us?’
Christy steadied herself and began. ‘Imagine a cabaret show that teases not just the eyes and ears, but the palate too.’
Tyler stepped forwards, his chef’s hands describing arcs in the air as if plating invisible dishes. ‘Each act is paired with a unique creation. We’re talking chocolate-dipped strawberries during a love ballad, or a spicy prawn cocktail while dancers stamp out a flamenco beat.’
‘We’ll make the tickets free,’ Christy told them. ‘As a gift to the community. And it won’t cost you guys a thing.’
She glanced at Tyler.
‘I’ve promised to underwrite the expenses,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do after what you two have done for Leo.’
Clare exchanged glances with her husband, who was stroking Samson.
‘I like the way you guys think,’ Tom said with a grin.
Clare clapped. ‘How about, once the script and menu are finalised, we release the kids from classes for one afternoon a week to rehearse and learn some cooking and hospitality skills,’ she said.
‘It can temporarily take the place of music and art classes. We’ll also allow them as much time as they want to spend at the hall on weekends, as long as you two are happy to supervise. ’
Christy grinned with pride. This was a terrific vote of confidence.
However, after the meeting ended, Clare pulled Christy aside, her expression a mix of concern and caution. ‘Can we have a private chat?’
Christy’s smile faded, her excitement deflating like a pricked balloon. In her experience such a request never preceded anything good.
Clare led her onto the verandah, leaving Tom and Tyler discussing the most urgent repairs to the hall.
‘I just want to mention something,’ she began, her tone hesitant.
‘It’s about Leo. I think he’s developing a crush on you.
Be mindful of how you handle it, okay? It might be wise to pull away from him. ’
Christy blinked, taken aback by the comment, with its echoes of the unfair accusations made against her at St Luke’s College.
She knew of Leo’s eagerness for their sessions together, of course she did, but she attributed it to his growing self-confidence and his interest in their theatre show.
The thought that it might be something more personal hadn’t crossed her mind.
‘I think you’re reading a bit too much into it.’ Christy tried to keep her tone light, in spite of how upset she was. ‘Leo’s really coming into his own, and I’m pleased to think I’ve played a part. But there’s nothing beyond that.’
‘Not for you, no ...’ Clare’s eyes held more than a gleam of unresolved doubt. ‘Keep an eye on it, that’s all I’m asking. We don’t want any complications.’ Her mouth formed a tight line as she walked away.
Clare’s surprising words had cast a pall over what should have been a winning moment.
Shaken, Christy mulled through their conversation.
Leo was one of the students who’d opened up significantly, and she was proud of that.
His newfound confidence and engagement were what she hoped to see in all her students.
That sort of progress was only possible if she remained empathetic and approachable, wasn’t it?
And yet here she was being criticised for that again.
Her heart sank as she confronted an awful possibility.
Maybe she wasn’t cut out for teaching. She was a ‘heart on her sleeve’ sort of person.
She wasn’t sure she could change; she didn’t know if she wanted to.
Painful memories of St Luke’s rushed in unbidden – Samuel’s perplexing silence, Andrew’s desertion, Sandra’s unrelenting hostility – and a creeping paranoia claimed her.
A car Christy didn’t know, a dusty, dark sedan, climbed the hill and pulled into the car park.
The door opened and a woman stepped out.
There was something familiar about the figure.
Christy squinted against the sun’s glare, her pulse quickening as the figure turned.
Was that Sandra Williams? Was her old enemy here to haunt her future?
Christy’s mind rebelled against the possibility.
She found it hard to breathe or move, her feet rooted to the spot.
The figure turned to lock the car, and as she swung back around their eyes met.
Christy exhaled. It wasn’t Sandra after all, and the sick feeling in her stomach eased.
Two teenage girls emerged from the back seat.
These must be the new students that Clare had mentioned the day before, Emma and Jane, both from Sydney apparently.
Christy felt like a fool. She was scaring herself silly, jumping at shadows. What was wrong with her?
Time to leave her fears behind. Christy decided to put Clare’s warning about Leo on the backburner for now.
She wouldn’t let an unfounded worry distract her from her goals.
And anyway, she’d promised Tyler to maintain her special connection with Leo.
She remembered that magic moment when he’d asked her for help with his son. No – pulling back wasn’t an option.
Christy leaned against the cool granite countertop in the big Currawong Creek kitchen, listening to Tyler and Astrid bounce ideas back and forth.
The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the buzz of creative energy.
Today they were discussing the details for the culinary cabaret show.
Tyler, still wearing a chef’s apron from the morning’s meal prep, enthusiastically discussed the menu. ‘I’m thinking of starting with a charcuterie board that highlights local cheeses and cured meats, paired with fresh, artisan breads. That won’t need cooking – remember, the hall has no kitchen.’
‘Yes,’ said Christy. ‘How do we get around that?’
‘I’ll prepare most of the food here and transport it,’ he said. ‘We can use warming trays, portable burners and insulated food carriers to keep dishes at the correct temperatures until they’re ready to be served. And if the weather’s good we can set up a barbecue outside.’
‘Does Currawong Creek have all that equipment?’ asked Astrid.
Tyler flashed her a winning smile. ‘It will once I go shopping. But in the future the hall will need a kitchen. For now we’ll use the little side room. Oh, and we’ll need a piano. An 88-key electric one might make the most sense: digital tuning, easy to move around, et cetera.’
The easy assurance with which he spoke about renovating the hall surprised and pleased her. Was he really so committed to the project? It also reminded Clare that he was a wealthy man.
‘And the main course?’ asked Christy.
‘What about a choice between herb-crusted lamb racks and a mushroom wellington? Both served with seasonal roasted vegetables.’
Astrid frowned. ‘In spring it might be too warm for vegetables.’
‘Salad then.’
‘Isn’t salad a bit boring?’ said Christy.
‘Boring?’ Tyler looked at her askance. ‘My roast beetroot and feta salad would pair beautifully with either of those mains. It combines the earthy notes of beetroot with the creamy tang of dressed feta cheese, balanced by the freshness of mixed greens and the crunch of toasted pecans.’
Christy giggled. ‘Sorry – my mistake.’ She pictured the guests enjoying such elegant fare.
Astrid shook her head, earrings bobbing. ‘The food needs to match the performances. The kids have voted for songs from Little Shop of Horrors and Mamma Mia . Christy wants us to do a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I want some poetry or dramatic monologues.’ She handed Tyler a list.
‘I could tie it all in with my English curriculum.’ Christy’s mind ran with the possibilities of integrating the various elements of theatre.
‘And the students can make posters to put around the school and in Merriang during art classes.’ She took notes, her hand barely keeping up with the flow of ideas.
‘I want plenty of room for improvisation,’ said Astrid. ‘You know how much I adore a bit of spontaneity.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Christy laughed. ‘Knowing our kids, there may be nothing but improvisation. That said, some students might freeze without a solid script to follow. We need to cater for everyone.’ Her thoughts drifted to Leo.
She made a mental note to involve him in the planning stages, perhaps in designing posters and helping with the lighting.
‘Okay, how about this then?’ said Tyler. ‘For the Mamma Mia segment, we could serve something Greek-inspired, perhaps a mezze platter? We can do dolmades, tzatziki, olives and spiced feta. It’s light, flavourful, and in keeping with the festive feel of the show.’
Christy grinned. ‘And right after “Dancing Queen”, as the energy peaks, we’ll serve it. It’ll be like the audience is part of the big party scene on stage.’
Moving on, Tyler pointed to the next item on Astrid’s list. ‘ Little Shop of Horrors – that’s the show with the man-eating plant, right ?’
‘Yes,’ said Astrid. ‘Audrey II. It would be great to have some puppetry involved.’
‘So we’ll need something daring.’ Tyler tapped his pen against the paper. ‘A Gothic vegetable accompaniment for the lamb: purple carrots, red capsicums and black corn cobs, drizzled with a rich beetroot and balsamic reduction that looks like blood.’
Astrid applauded.
‘With dry ice for effect when we serve it for extra spookiness,’ continued Tyler. ‘And for A Midsummer Night’s Dream we should definitely play into the woodland theme. Maybe a wild mushroom risotto?’
‘Perfect,’ Christy agreed. ‘I can have the kids recite snippets of Shakespeare as they serve up.’ Her mind whirled with potential staging ideas.
Tyler scribbled some notes before looking up again. ‘And for a transitional piece between courses, what if we feature a live poetry reading? It could serve as a palate cleanser of sorts – both literary and culinary.’
Christy nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, and maybe those poems could be about food to keep it cohesive.’
‘I want to teach the kids to cook the dishes we’ll serve. It’ll give them some insight into running a commercial kitchen.’
Christy scratched her chin. ‘Is that possible in eight weeks?’
‘We can give it a go,’ said Tyler with enthusiasm. ‘Think how proud the kids will be when we say the entire evening was presented by them. I can officially provide references to any students who might want to go into hospitality.’
As they continued to weave together the menu and the night’s entertainment, the boundary between culinary and cabaret blurred.
Each idea sparked another, from costumes that complemented the courses, to lighting that shifted with the mood of the meals.
‘Soft browns and greens for Midsummer ,’ suggested Astrid, ‘vibrant greens and reds for Little Shop , and a rainbow of colours for Mamma Mia .’
By the time they concluded their planning session, Christy’s connection with Tyler had deepened, each of them buoyed by the other’s excitement and expertise.
Christy sighed, overwhelmed by the ambition of their vision.
The old school hall, once quiet and forgotten, would soon host an unforgettable community evening where food and theatre melded into one seamless, magical experience.