Rose's Vintage (22 page)

‘There's no denying it. You're starting to show, sweetheart,' said Rose.

‘Oof,' Astrid grunted as the zip refused to budge. ‘I can't believe how bloated I feel. But I am not sick in the mornings anymore – quite the opposite in fact. I'm starving
all
the time.'

‘Well, at least you've got the pregnancy glow – I'd kill for your skin,' said Rose, hoping to boost her mood.

Giving up on the struggle, Astrid grabbed an elastic band from among the clutter on her dresser and looped one end through the rivet and the other through the buttonhole and then back on to the rivet. ‘There,' she said triumphantly, ‘that will have to do until I can get to New Bridgeton for some larger trousers.'

‘Are you sure about keeping it?' asked Rose, broaching the subject that was on her mind.

‘Don't be silly. Of course I will.' Astrid was adamant. ‘It is too late for an abortion, and I cannot give it up for adoption, I just can't.'

‘Well, it's good that you know your own mind. But what about Thommo? He's been back in the valley for a couple of days now. When are you going to see him?'

‘He rang me as soon as he landed, but I panicked and let it go to voicemail. I didn't know what to say to him. He left a message – he wants to catch up.'

‘Best grab the bull by the horns, so to speak,' advised Rose. ‘Tell him before someone else does – you know what gossip is like in this place.'

‘But no-one else knows about this except us,' Astrid said, looking worried.

‘I know, and I'm sworn to secrecy, you can trust me on that, but nevertheless, I'd speak to him as soon as you can,' Rose warned.

‘Yes, I know you're right. I'll call him later today.' Astrid looked at her watch. ‘I'd better go and see if Luisa's woken up from her nap.'

Ever since they'd come back from the visit with their mother, the kids had been unsettled. Luisa was playing up, refusing to cooperate and throwing more than her usual share of tantrums. Leo was closed off again, retreating to his room, spending hours on his iPod, tuning out the world. Even Barnsie was feeling neglected, as Leo had stopped playing with him; the pup slunk around the verandah instead, looking for a patch of sun to lie in. Leo only came to life when Mark appeared, but his father had been largely absent lately, spending all his waking hours in the vineyards, checking on his precious vines.

‘Honestly, I feel like a parent already, being a stand-in mum to Leo and Luisa. How much more trouble could a baby of my own be?' said Astrid.

‘Well, you've got a point there, but what about the night feeds?'

Astrid made a face. ‘Ugh, I do like my sleeps.'

‘You'll do just fine. I know you will,' Rose reassured her. She knew that Astrid needed someone in her corner at the moment – and also in the months to come.

The sun was setting and the birds were heading home to roost as the girls drove along the narrow Eumeralla Road. The vines on either side of the road were swathed in netting like brides on their wedding day. Turning down the volume on the car radio, Rose asked, ‘So what are you going to tell him? How do you think you'll break the news? A pair of baby booties?'

‘Oh, don't tease me,' Astrid wailed. ‘I'm nervous enough as it is.'

‘I know, sweetheart. Just trying to lighten the mood. You never know, it might not be as bad as you expect.'

‘Humph.' Astrid didn't sound convinced.

The pub was packed, which was not unusual for a Thursday night at the end of the month, but Rose soon spotted Thommo, Charlie, Deano, Mick and Angie sitting at a corner table. She waved in their direction as she and Astrid headed first to the bar.

Thommo rose from his chair and followed Astrid: arriving at her side, he slid his arms around her waist. ‘Astrid, gorgeous girl!' He aimed a kiss at her cheek as she turned her head towards him. ‘I've missed you … Whoa! What's that you got there, a bun in the oven?' Thommo's hands had encountered her belly, blooming out over the top of her jeans.

Tears sprang up in Astrid's eyes. ‘How can you know this?' she asked, shocked.

Rose looked on speechless as Astrid wrenched herself from his grasp and fled out the door. Thommo glanced at Rose questioningly, then rushed after her. Rose hastened after them.

As Thommo flung the pub door open, he called out to Astrid. ‘Hey, I was just kidding! Don't get upset! You know me, always putting my foot in it. I didn't mean to offend you. I was kidding, really.'

Halfway to the car already, Astrid whirled round to face him. ‘Actually, you've not put a foot in it. I really am pregnant. And guess who's going to be a father?'

Rose hovered behind them, uncertain if she should step in.

Seconds ticked by. Comprehension dawned on Thommo's face.

‘Whaat? What are you saying? I don't believe you. How can that be? I've been away for months. And anyway it was only once,' he spluttered. ‘It's just not possible.'

‘Well, I am afraid it is possible. It's not like I had planned it. Completely stuffs everything for me too, if you care to know.' Astrid strode towards the car, visibly upset. ‘Can we go Rose, please?' she pleaded.

‘Okay, if that's what you want.' Rose unlocked the car door. ‘Sorry, mate,' she said to Thommo, ‘Best give her a bit of breathing space, hey? She wasn't quite expecting to break the news to you like this, I'm afraid.'

Astrid climbed in and slammed her door, and Rose quickly started the engine. As they drove away, Rose caught sight of Thommo in the rear-view mirror, standing in the carpark with his hands hanging loosely at his sides, a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.

‘I remember when I was a girl, you just settled down with the first boy who took your fancy, or who was nice enough to ask you to take a turn with him. Clean shoes, neat haircut. Those were the marks of a good sort. Not like these days. Too many shenanigans going on now.'

Rose was sitting in the sunshine with Violet at Trevelyn Cottage. She'd got into the habit of popping over in the late afternoon, just as the ladies were finishing up for the day. News travelled fast in the small Shingle Valley community, and Violet and Rose were discussing Astrid and Thommo's reunion in the pub the week before.

Rose didn't mention her trip away to the city with Mark. She still hadn't made sense of it in her own head, and in any case Mark had kept his distance since they'd returned to Kalkari. If she was honest with herself, she would have said she was deliberately avoiding him too. He'd tried to apologise as they drove home from the city, and she'd pretended airily that she was completely cool with it. ‘Look, it was just a drunken moment. Don't even think about it. I know I won't.'

That was a complete lie.

She still couldn't get the memory of his warm, insistent lips out of her head, the feel of his strong arms encircling her, the way her legs had turned to jelly when he kissed her. When she couldn't sleep at night, she brought out the memory like a treat to be savoured, reliving it over and over again, until she finally dropped off.

‘Life doesn't always turn out the way you plan it,' Violet said cryptically.

‘Tell me about it,' Rose agreed.

‘Well, girl, just hang on for the ride and don't fall off, I say,' Violet cackled.

The back door banged, and Vera trudged in, ‘Bloody hot out there,' she grumbled. ‘That pot still going?'

Rose poured the dregs from the pot into a chipped china mug. ‘Just enough, if you don't mind it stewed.'

‘I'll take it any way it comes, darl. As long as it's warm and wet.'

‘How are the grapes looking?' Rose was genuinely interested.

‘Well, it's hotter than it's ever been round these parts for this time of year.' Vera heaved a thick leather-bound journal off the sideboard, and flicked through the pages. She showed Rose the spidery script, scrawled across pages dating back thirty years. ‘There's a page for every day, with a line for every year, and then we make a note of the weather, the health of the vines, the canopy, what the grapes are looking and tasting like, what we're up to, and so on,' Vera explained.

‘Wow, that's amazing. It's good that it's getting warmer, no?'

‘Actually, it's not. We need long, cool growing conditions for the grapes that do well here. Makes our job even harder now. Bloody global warming.' Vera stomped off down the corridor to the front of the cottage.

‘Don't mind her, Rose,' said Violet. ‘Her bark's worse than her bite. She's just stressed about this year's vintage. Happens every time. Now, back to Astrid – do you reckon she'll be able to knock some sense into Thommo – get him to do the right thing?'

‘Well, she's certainly a determined girl. I rather think she's prepared to go it alone.'

‘You wouldn't have got away with that in my day – you'd have been carted off straight to the unmarried mother's home and then had the baby whipped away from you before you'd so much as looked at it,' Violet said sadly. ‘Wouldn't have been allowed to give her a name or anything …'

Rose looked at the old lady. It sounded like she might have been speaking from experience.

CHAPTER 22

T
he phone rang in the hallway and Rose raced out of the kitchen to get to it. There was a pause on the line, and then she heard an English accent.

‘Hello. May I speak to Mark Cameron, please?'

‘I'm sorry, this is the house. He's at the winery right now. Do you have the number there?'

‘Oh right-o, I thought that was where I'd rung.'

There was a click: the woman calling had hung up abruptly.

She looked up to see Astrid and Luisa coming down the stairs.

‘Who was that?' asked Astrid.

‘Don't know. She was English and I could have sworn I'd heard that voice before, but I can't place it. She sounded a bit like my mum. Actually, for a minute I thought it was her. She was looking for Mark.'

Luisa piped up. ‘Mum?'

‘No, not your mummy, darling. I was talking about my mummy.'

‘You don't have a mummy, do you?'

‘Actually I do, sweetheart, but she lives a long way away, just like your mummy.'

‘Oh.' Apparently satisfied with this explanation, Luisa trotted out of the kitchen, dragging her bunny by its floppy ears as she went.

Rose finished off the preparations for dinner, making a salsa verde with herbs from Kalkari's garden, which had miraculously sprung back to life after the winter cold. She scattered crumble mixture over sliced apples and cinnamon, set it aside on the counter, and then headed over to the winery.

The phone call had reminded her that she needed to speak to her brother. Henry had been away for a few weeks, so she'd managed to stall him, saying she needed more time to find out what was really going on. With every day that passed – with her unlikely but growing friendship with Violet Trevelyn, and then the feelings that had been stirred up by her late-night, alcohol-fuelled kiss with Mark – Rose felt herself being drawn in to the valley, becoming knit into the fabric of the place. She woke every morning with anticipation of what the day might bring, and went about her chores with a spring in her step. The idea of betraying the people to whom she was becoming so close was an unpleasant one and the subterfuge was starting to make her feel very uneasy.