Page 41 of The Side Road
‘You could put one in.’ She pointed to an empty line. ‘It could go right there. Cute bunny. Times one.’
Oliver smiled. He typed ‘Rabbit’ on the bottom of his spreadsheet. In the cost column, he entered fifty dollars. In the monthly budget column, he wrote twenty dollars.
Tash chewed her lip. ‘The Angora ones are more like three hundred dollars.’
He reeled. ‘Honey, that’s a birthday present.’
She sat down across the table from him. ‘What’s for dinner?’
Oliver raised his hands. ‘Right now, I have no idea, but whatever it is, it’s going to be healthy.’
Attempting to improve his daughter’s diet, Oliver had stocked the fridge and pantry with fresh produce and healthy snacks. He pushed the fruit bowl in her direction. At the supermarket, he had selected the smallest pieces of fruit. The apples looked non-threatening, and the bananas were approachable.
Tash rose and went to the pantry, searching for chips and biscuits, but came back empty-handed. ‘We’re going to starve to death.’
‘No, we’re not.’ Oliver closed his laptop.
‘You should know, Nan told her church group that you abandoned me. They looked at me like I was Orphan Annie.’
He regarded his daughter. ‘I’m sorry that happened. You know why I stayed. I was under contract. Allen had no one else to run the tours. We also get a bonus at the end of the season. I want us to have a good life. The best I can offer. And a better one than I had.’
‘I hate my life. So you failed. You’re also not providing any edible food.’
He rubbed his hands over his face. After weeks of steak and sausages served with salad, Oliver was also tired of the monotonous meals. If he served Tash one more lamb cutlet, he thought she might leave home. They had reached a breaking point.
In the supermarket, he had combed the aisles of frozen convenience meals. Why bother preparing fresh food when there was another way? A cheaper, easier, faster option. The urge to quit cooking altogether had been powerful, but he had persevered. Nutrition was paramount. He owed this to himself and his daughter. He had to learn how to cook and increase his nightly repertoire.
Elsie’s cookbooks were still in the kitchen cupboards. After taking one down, he skimmed the recipes. He knew how to marinate and fry food. He understood what blend and beat meant. Bake was obvious. He thought braising was probably another term for slow cooking. But what the fuck was blanching? How was he supposed to caramelise, poach, baste, parboil or julienne? Why did the recipe say deglaze? What did that even mean? Closing the cookbook, he returned it to the cupboard.
Still seated at the kitchen table, Tash looked up from her knitting and stared expectantly at him.
‘I’m working on it,’ he said.
Re-visiting the pantry, she came back with a pre-cooked rice cup and studied the packaging. ‘It says here: “Serving Suggestions”. There’s a QR code.’
Oliver handed her his phone. Deemed too young for social media, there were no apps installed on her phone. Making calls to her father was the extent of her mobile activities. Taking Oliver’s phone, she scanned the code. Countless food choices became available. The app rated the recipes for success and difficulty.
‘Okay,’ Tash said.
‘Right.’ Oliver leaned over her shoulder and stared at the screen.
‘Easy fried rice,’ Tash said. She pointed to the recipe. ‘This one has a 4.7 rating and over three hundred reviews.’
‘I’ll give it a go.’
It took twenty-five minutes. Studded with vegetables, it also included eggs. Relief washed over Oliver. The internet was fantastic.
After the meal was over, Tash logged back into the website and gave the recipe a score of 4.7 for consistency.
‘Do you think Elsie took the money with her in the coffin?’ she asked.
‘It’s possible,’ Oliver said. ‘If I carry the shovel, can you handle the torch?’
‘You can count on me.’
Neither of them moved.
‘I guess we’ll never know,’ she said. ‘That’s the worst part. But it doesn’t sound like something Nan would want. Being buried in a coffin filled with money.’
