Page 31 of Wild Horses

Tyler stood in the centre of the small room he’d occupied at Astrid’s cottage, the first rays of morning light filtering weakly through the gauzy curtains.

The room felt more cramped than cosy now, as if the walls had inched closer overnight.

He’d had a restless sleep, the kind that left him more drained than rested. He should have headed home last night.

The space around him was cluttered with the remnants of his temporary time here: an open suitcase, piles of clothes, and books he hadn’t had time to read.

As he snapped the suitcase shut, the final click resonated like a definitive end.

He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the room.

The small wooden desk by the window caught his eye.

It was there that he’d sat, planning projects and menus, jotting down thoughts that had seemed so pivotal at the time – all now so much chaff.

In the living room, Tyler found Astrid arranging a vase of wildflowers on the table. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality,’ he said.

Astrid turned to him, her eyes brimful of understanding. ‘Would you like a cuppa before you head off?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Pity – I was going to read your tea leaves.’

‘Well, I definitely don’t want one then. Not after that tarot card thing. What was it you turned up – the devil card?’

She nodded. ‘It told me you carry a dark secret from your past.’

Tyler tried rather unconvincingly to laugh this off, but in truth the incident had shaken him. ‘If I ever need a crystal ball reader I’ll come straight to you.’

Outside, a bold crow perched on a fencepost near his car, giving him an unaccounted chill. It didn’t flap away when he opened the driver’s door. Instead, it watched him with pale piercing eyes.

Tyler slid behind the wheel, the seat leather cold against his back. As he shifted into reverse his phone rang. Tyler glanced at the display – it flashed unknown caller . He hesitated, an uneasy feeling tying knots in his stomach. It could be the police again.

‘Tyler Ward speaking.’ His voice sounded louder than usual in the confines of the car.

There was no response, just an unsettling silence that stretched a few heartbeats too long. Then, a heavy, laboured breathing filled the line, raspy and deep. It echoed from the speakers of the car, a sound so visceral and raw that it raised the hairs on the back of Tyler’s neck.

‘Who is this?’ he demanded, the sound of blood rushing in his ears almost as loud as the breathing on the line.

‘This isn’t funny,’ he said. ‘I’m hanging up now.’

But he didn’t hang up, not straight away.

The breathing grew harsher, more menacing, as if the caller was right there with him in the car.

Finally, Tyler jabbed the end call button.

The abrupt silence was almost as disconcerting as the breathing had been.

He threw the phone onto the passenger seat as if it were a venomous snake.

Was this some kind of warning, a threat, or just a cruel prank?

Heart racing, Tyler put the car in gear. His gaze darted to the crow that still perched on the fence watching him. It took flight, wings beating against the quiet morning, making a series of long, plaintive cries. As he drove away, he saw Astrid framed in the rear-view mirror.

Merriang disappeared behind him, and Tyler felt a profound sense of dislocation.

The open road was both an escape and an exile.

He missed Christy already. As the road stretched out before him, Tyler’s mind drifted to the forthcoming police interview: the unknowns of what the detective might ask, the implications of the investigation, and how it could stir up the past.

Tyler put his foot down harder on the throttle, now eager to put distance between him and Currawong Creek.

He stopped only once for petrol, then drove doggedly on until the city skyline took shape in the distance.

An hour later he stepped into the apartment he and Leo had left behind five months earlier in April: a homecoming that brought him no peace of mind.

At six o’clock Tyler took a taxi into the bustling heart of Brisbane.

The familiar sights and sounds of the city wrapped around him like an old suit that still fitted, but not as well as he remembered.

The cab dropped him off at Providence, Tyler’s upmarket restaurant.

It was nestled in the vibrant heart of New Farm, one of Brisbane’s most stylish suburbs, known for its chic bars, cosmopolitan atmosphere and picturesque riverside boardwalks.

The restaurant itself was housed in a refurbished 1930s art deco building that married historic charm with modern elegance. The facade featured sleek, curved lines. The expansive windows flooded the interior with natural light during the day and displayed the city’s twinkling lights by night.

Tyler experienced a familiar thrill of pride as he entered the restaurant and was greeted by an atmosphere of understated luxury.

The glass doors opened to a burst of noise – the clink of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the subtle sizzle from the open kitchen.

It was a world he knew intimately: one he’d crafted with precision and care.

The interior design said sophisticated urban dining, with high ceilings, polished hardwood floors, and soft, ambient lighting to create a warm, inviting glow.

Greeting the staff with nods and a stiff smile, Tyler slipped through the familiar dance of the restaurant floor.

The staff welcomed him back with a mix of enthusiasm and cautious curiosity, their glances quick and questioning.

‘I’ve been living on a deserted tropical island,’ he said, when asked.

‘But all that peace and happiness was too much for me.’ He stuck to the same story whenever he was asked, though each interaction increased a thin sheen of strain on his calm surface.

He moved through to the kitchen where he found Noelle directing staff with a blend of authority and encouragement.

She managed front of house but was also a skilled chef in her own right.

Her iPad was tucked under one arm, a tool of the trade that held notes, reservations and special requests for the evening. She didn’t immediately notice him.

‘How are we doing on the scallop entrees?’ she asked Marco, peering at the beautifully plated dishes ready to be served.

‘Last two going out now.’

She looked up, surprise registering on her face when she saw Tyler. ‘Chef! I didn’t know you were coming home today.’ Her tone was a mix of delight and mild reproach.

‘It was a last-minute decision.’ Tyler’s gaze swept across the dining floor, noting the bustling activity and the staff’s efficient movements.

‘Well, it’s great to have you back. Everything’s been running smoothly here.’ She launched into details of new menus, staff changes and forthcoming reservations that promised a busy end to September.

‘That sounds good,’ he said, his mind only half-registering her words. His thoughts were too tangled with the anticipation of tomorrow’s police interview and the unnerving memory of the mysterious phone call.

Noelle paused, her keen eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Tyler, are you okay? You seem distracted.’

‘I’m fine, just a lot on my mind.’ Tyler forced a semblance of assurance into his voice. But his tense expression and rigid posture told another story.

Noelle gave him a searching look, clearly unconvinced but too polite to press further. Henri, their sous chef, tapped her on the shoulder. ‘We’re running low on elderflower liqueur.’

‘I’ll make a note and order more first thing tomorrow,’ Noelle assured him. ‘In the meantime, tweak the vanilla bean panna cotta recipe if you must by substituting rosewater.’

‘You’re busy,’ said Tyler. ‘I’ll be out the back if you need me.’

Noelle looked nonplussed. ‘Don’t you want me to bring you up to speed? A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.’

‘Later, okay?’ With a nod, he escaped to the office, a small room at the back of the restaurant with a view of the alley where deliveries came and went.

He closed the door, locked it and sat at his desk – its clutter of papers and reservation books proof of the ongoing life of the restaurant that seemed to have little to do with him any more.

His mind wandered back to Currawong Creek.

Vera Scott wouldn’t start for a few days.

What was on the menu for tonight? he wondered.

He found his phone and rang Clare. As he waited for the call to connect, his gaze landed on a desk photo of him and Leo taken many years ago at the beach.

His son’s smiling face looked so young and innocent. So happy.

‘Clare? Tyler here. How are things going with Leo?’

‘Much the same as yesterday,’ she said in a tone of gentle amusement. ‘But seriously, Leo seems fine. Oh, there is one thing. He and Lofty started jumping today – just low obstacles but they both had a ball. I should have videoed it for you – sorry.’

‘Well done, Leo!’ He wished that he’d been there to see him clear his first jump. How excited Grace would have been to hear about it.

‘And in case you’re interested, we’re having sausages and mash for dinner, followed by ice cream. I imagine a petition will be circulating soon demanding your return.’

Tyler almost wished it was true and that he could be magically summoned by such a missive. ‘And Christy, how’s she doing?’

‘She and Astrid are furiously plotting a way to save the old school hall. It’s being sold, you know – such a shame. But I’ve no doubt those two will find a way.’

A shame indeed, and not least because he wasn’t part of their plans.

He’d been looking forward to being Christy’s white knight.

As he set the phone down, Tyler leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

His eyes closed, briefly, as a headache built behind his eyes.

Clare’s cheerful report had failed to settle him.

He wanted to jump in his car and drive straight back to Merriang.

Tyler picked up the phone and began scrolling through photos he’d taken at Currawong Creek. He lingered over one of Christy looking back over her shoulder – warm hazel eyes, serious smile and tangle of auburn curls. God, he missed her.

The restaurant outside the office hummed with activity. Once upon a time it had been his world, but tonight it held no interest for him. Tyler slipped quietly out the back door.