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Pete chuckled. “I was the big spoon, just so we’re all clear.”
Everyone laughed while Tom rolled his eyes.
“What’s a big spoon?” Charlotte asked.
“Eat your dinner,” Ryan whispered to a pouting Charlotte.
“No one answers my questions,” she grumbled.
Stacey put down her cutlery and turned to Ainslee. “And how long are you staying with us, Ainslee?”
“I’m thinking—”
Tom cut her off. “Ainslee’s going home very soon.”
Ainslee sniffed and continued to cut her roast meat savagely.
An awkward silence descended on the table. I kept my eyes focused on my plate. The happy couple were clearly not happy.
“I’m going tomorrow,” Pete piped up. “Back to help Mum and Dad pack up their place for the sale.”
Mrs Turner asked polite questions about Pete’s parents and where they were off to next. Pete had grown up on a sorghum farm about an hour from Ballydoon, but the drought had forced his parents to sell.
I stole a glance at Tom across the table. His face was hard, no doubt thinking about the bombshell he’d delivered outside about Turner’s Creek being on the brink of bankruptcy.
I couldn’t imagine the Turners not being here. They’d always been here since her family started growing grapes on a selection of land next door.
Or, he was deep in thought about whatever fight he and Ainslee had had. Not that it was any of my business.
“So, Rosie.” Ryan leant back in his chair. “That was a bit of a surprise to see you do the preso on wombat burrows and bushfires. We were expecting Jim Gale from the national parks to present today.”
Thank god for the question and the distraction.“Jim and his team are helping me with my research on wombats. My research topic is effectively how wildlife conservation can work in conjunction with vineyard and agricultural management in the greater Stanmore area. My focus was the wombat population here in the national park and their proximity to farms and vineyards.”
“Oh.” Ryan squirmed in his seat. “So … umm …”
Best to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room.
“I know what you’re all thinking. We’ve known each other all our lives.” I took a deep breath; everyone’s eyes were on me. “My parents have not been pleased that I’d spent the last two years collecting data on wombats.”
“I thought you wanted to take over the vineyard,” Tom said, his face neutral. “You’ve said in the past it was your dream to do so.”
“It still is,” I retorted, and immediately cringed. I was acting like an ass, again.
That word ‘dream’. Why did he have to say ‘dream’? Such a trigger word.
“That dream hasn’t changed. And I see how I can do both, manage the vineyard and contribute to research on wombat populations here in Ballydoon. My parents were very shocked I was researching wombats, and they don’t see the point of what I’m doing.” Mrs Turner gave me a reassuring smile from across the table. “But running our family’s vineyard as well as researching and consulting on wildlife conservation are related, especially as I’m looking into new fencing techniques to reduce fallen fences and lost livestock.”
I dared a look at Tom, who’d sat back and was regarding me with genuine curiosity.
“Collecting data on wombat populations is not a quick process,” I continued, looking anywhere but Tom. “I received funding for new web cameras and GPS markers for monitoring active burrows. What little data we have collected in the last two years in the national park has been extremely helpful in mapping the burrow size to compare with the burrows down south where people had sought refuge from the bushfires.”
“It was a great presentation today,” Tom said in a low voice. “Had no idea people survived the Black Saturday fires by getting into burrows.”
“What presentation was that?” Ainslee asked sharply, ripping her bread roll in two.
“Rosie was a great speaker at the fire brigade training session,” Ryan supplied while helping Charlotte cut her meat.
“Not many people know about how several survived the fires in burrows,” I continued. “The survivors didn’t talk to the press, mostly likely because of trauma. Of the very little reported about it, what we do know about the burrows in Victoria allows us here to see if we have similar-sized burrows not only in our national park but also on private land.”
