Page 39 of Wild Horses

Tyler pushed himself through another busy night at Providence, moving round the kitchen with practised efficiency.

He barked out orders, ensuring his staff executed each dish with precision.

The onslaught of the dinner crowd wasn’t far away.

He’d been waiting for his enthusiasm to return.

It hadn’t happened. He was simply going through the motions and it left him feeling empty.

Tyler washed his hands, glancing at the clock.

The phone in his pocket buzzed and he didn’t recognise the number.

Weeks had passed since his last contact with the police and there’d been no more heavy breathing phone calls, yet his unease lingered.

Unknown numbers set his nerves on edge. ‘Tyler Ward.’

‘Mr Ward, this is Jennifer Hawthorne from the National Epicurean Committee. I’m thrilled to inform you that you’ve been nominated as Queensland’s state representative for the Epicurean Top Chef Award.’

Tyler’s breath caught. ‘The Top Chef Award?’

‘Yes, indeed. You’ll need to create and prepare an original three-course menu, and the competition is in a month’s time.

The grand prize is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and the head chef position at Le Ciel de Paris.

But I’m sure you already know how it works.

Check your email for details, and congratulations. ’

A jolt of excitement coursed through him. He hadn’t felt this alive in weeks. The Top Chef Award was legendary, and Le Ciel de Paris was one of the premier restaurants in all of France.

Tyler ended the call, a grin spreading across his face. For the first time in ages he felt a flicker of the old fire. This was it – his chance to reignite his passion, to step out of the shadows of his past. He had a purpose again.

His phone kept on ringing. News had travelled fast, and Tyler retreated to his office to field the many congratulatory calls and requests for interviews.

As the evening wound down, Tyler’s mind still spun with possibilities.

He needed a menu that would stand out, something innovative yet deeply personal.

Leo’s recent shift to vegetarianism gave him an idea.

A meat-free menu. So many chefs lazily relied on meat to provide flavour.

Well, he would produce a superior-tasting entree and main without it.

The challenge excited him, pushing his creativity to new heights.

He imagined moving to Paris – working at Le Ciel de Paris, achieving his ambition to be a world-renowned chef and spiriting Leo away from the pain that the police investigation could bring.

And moving to the other side of the world might be the only way to forget about Christy.

This competition wasn’t just a chance to escape the ghosts of his past; it was an opportunity to create a future for him and his son that he could be proud of.

Tyler threw himself into menu planning. The honour of the nomination breathed new life into his work, reminding him of why he’d loved cooking in the first place.

He was watching a video lecture by Heston Blumenthal about multi-sensory cookery when the phone rang.

Leo had been calling almost every day since Tyler left.

It was a far cry from the bad old days when his son barely talked to him.

Now he willingly shared news of his life at Currawong Creek, news that was recently full of a girl named Tiffany who’d arrived shortly before Tyler left.

‘She’s amazing, Dad. I don’t even know how to explain it,’ gushed Leo. ‘She’s, like, the best rider I’ve ever seen. Like she belongs on a horse.’

‘So ... you’re a little lovesick, are you, mate?’ Tyler said with a chuckle.

‘I mean, yeah, I guess ... maybe. She’s ... she’s really cool, Dad. Not like anyone else. We talk about everything – horses, life, all of it. And she actually listens, like she cares.’

Tyler dropped his teasing tone, suddenly nostalgic about Grace and those heady days of first love. ‘That’s great to hear, son.’

‘And she likes me too,’ continued Leo. ‘I mean, I think so. She smiled when I gave her flowers today. Wildflowers. Not store-bought or anything, but Tiff said she loved them.’

Leo’s excitement bubbled through the line.

Tyler shouldn’t have been surprised. His son was growing up, but they hadn’t yet had the birds and bees talk.

In the past he’d never been that kind of hands-on father, instead outsourcing sex education to Leo’s school.

But had the mandated curriculum covered contraception, consent and the big, adult feelings that came with intimacy?

As part of his commitment to being a new and improved switched-on father, Tyler intended to find out.

He and Leo would have that talk when they next met.

In the meantime, he’d call Clare to ensure she was aware of the situation, and to ask what the school policy was regarding romances between the kids.

‘Anyway, enough about me,’ said Leo, when he’d finally finished extolling Tiffany’s virtues. ‘How are your recipes going for the competition?’ he asked. ‘It’s cool you’re going vegetarian. I told Tiff and she’s really impressed.’

Ah, so that explained Leo’s sudden meat-free conversion.

Tyler launched into talk of burnt beetroot carpaccio and caramelised onion purees.

Leo indulged his father for a while, letting him talk, clearly aware that Tyler didn’t trust anybody else enough to brainstorm his secret menu plans with them. ‘What about dessert?’

‘Not sure,’ said Tyler. ‘I’m toying with white chocolate spheres, or perhaps some variation on a canelé.’

‘Don’t you get points for using unique ingredients?’

‘Innovation and a unique vision are part of it, yes.’

‘Then why not use bunya nuts? I bet nobody else will use them. Mrs Scott sometimes makes us bunya-nut pies. They’re delicious.’

Tyler’s mind went into overdrive. Bunya pines were living fossils, remnants of vast forests that once grew across the world during the Jurassic era.

They only fruited after one hundred years, and bore green, football-sized pine cones weighing up to ten kilograms that had once provided food for dinosaurs.

These rare and unique bunya pine forests gave the mountains near Currawong Creek their name.

Tyler had heard that the cones contained delicious and nutritious nuts, but he’d never cooked with them. That was about to change.

‘You’re brilliant,’ said Tyler, wishing he could give his son a hug.

‘I know,’ said Leo in a smug voice. ‘Goodnight, Dad.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Tyler couldn’t help himself.

During the hustle and bustle of his Brisbane days, he could keep thoughts of Christy at bay.

But connecting with Leo and the world of Currawong Creek had brought them rushing back.

‘How’s Miss P doing? Has she managed to talk Clare into giving those drama classes? ’

‘Has she ever. She’s going full tilt at producing an entire play at the old hall. It’s called Raisin in the Sun .’ Tyler could hear the enthusiasm in his son’s voice. A pause. ‘You like her, don’t you, Dad?’

The question took Tyler aback, and he ignored it. So, Christy had bought the old school hall after all. Good on her. He felt a stab of guilt at how hastily he’d withdrawn his offer of help. ‘Tell me what the play’s about.’

‘It’s about this family in Chicago,’ said Leo.

‘They live in a cramped apartment and are waiting for an insurance cheque after the dad dies. Everyone has different ideas about how to use the money. The son, Walter – that’s who I play – wants to invest in a liquor store to make big profits.

His sister wants to use it for medical school.

And their mum wants to buy a house in a better neighbourhood.

There’s this part where Walter makes a huge financial mistake, and it really hurts the family.

But in the end, they all come together.’

‘What’s it like playing Walter?’

‘Fun. He has lots of layers. He’s desperate and flawed, but he loves his family and wants to do right by them. It’s interesting trying to bring him to life.’

Tyler imagined Christy directing the kids on the old stage, tossing her auburn hair, eyes flashing with passion. A surge of missing her almost took his breath away.

‘We’re putting on the play at the end of term. Will you come and see it?’

‘Try and stop me.’ How good it felt to be there for his son at last: a fully engaged father. He thought about Grace and how happy it would have made her. ‘We can have a celebration afterwards – a goodbye Currawong Creek celebration. Clare reckons you’ll pass the year with flying colours.’

The prolonged silence at the end of the line made Tyler think they’d lost their connection.

At last Leo spoke. ‘I don’t want to leave, Dad. I want to stay on here next year.’

This stopped Tyler in his tracks. That was impossible. He wanted his son back home so they could talk about moving to France and starting a new life together. He knew Leo was fitting in at Currawong Creek and doing well, but he still thought his son would jump at the chance to get back to Brisbane.

‘We’ll talk about it when I see you next.’

‘And when will that be?’ asked Leo. A hint of the old hostility had crept into his voice. ‘You won’t have time before the competition, and by then the end of term will almost be here.’

He didn’t know what to say. Leo was right. He shouldn’t put off their conversation for that long, but he also wasn’t in the right frame of mind to have it now.

‘Look, I’ll call you in a couple of days, okay? When I’m not so busy with these menus and the restaurant.’

‘Sure you will,’ said Leo, his tone thick with sarcasm. ‘This is beginning to remind me of the good old days.’