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“Been saying for years we need underground bunkers as fire refuges,” Ryan added. “Guess a wombat burrow is a natural kind of bunker.”
“Agree. Won’t always have a muddy creek bed to bury yourself in,” Stacey said.
Stacey had made headlines with saving her boyfriend’s brother in a recent spot fire. Her ability to remain calm and make good decisions in the face of a bushfire was nothing short of amazing.
“You did a wonderful job under pressure, Stacey. I can only hope to be like you if I’m caught in a similar situation.”
Stacey managed a tight smile. “Your research sounds ace. Hope you do more.”
My chest puffed out a little with pride. If only my family had responded this way. Ultimately I wanted to save human and wombat lives with my research. The Turners knew all too well how quickly someone they loved could be taken from them.
“I’d like to see more wildlife corridors on farms and better fencing practices so wildlife can pass through without needing to demolish posts and push fences over. Helps native animals escape bushfires as well.”
Mum cleared her throat. “How’s preparation for the Opera in the Vines going, Rosie?”
“Great, good. We have an opera singer from Italy. They’re finishing a tour in Sydney and agreed to do the weekend shows up here. Natalia from the Cherry Blossom Fruit Shop knows her through her husband’s family.”
“Haven’t been to the Cherry Shop in years. We should go this year, family. Fresh cherries this Christmas.” Mrs Turner smiled wistfully.
“Oh, Sam texted before dinner,” Stacey interjected, swallowing a large bite. “We should be receiving our boudoir photos next week.”
“What’s a boo-dwahh photo, Aunty Stacey?” Charlotte piped up.
“Oh, um—” Stacey closed her mouth and then opened it again.
Amanda leapt in. “It’s special photos. Sometimes in your pyjamas.”
Stacey grinned. “And undies.”
Charlotte burst out laughing. “Why would you have your photo taken in your undies?”
Ryan put down his cutlery. “Exactly. Not the topic for an almost ten-year-old who has regular access to my phone and its camera.”
“Sorry, dear brother,” Stacey murmured.
Ryan then addressed Charlotte. “I don’t want you taking photos of yourself in your underwear.”
“Why would I do that?” She scrunched up her nose. “Why would adults do that? People might see your private parts.”
Both Stacey and Amanda hid their smiles behind their hands. Mum blushed.
“Aunty Rosie, would you do it?” Charlotte asked.
“I did have my photos taken, but it’s for me. Not anyone else.”
Tom’s mouth fell open. But he quickly closed it and looked away.
Oh, my. Was Tom thinking about me in my underwear, posing on the velvet settee—couch—thing in their family’s parlour room?
“Uncle Tom,” Charlotte piped up. “Have you taken photos of you in your undies?”
“Right, that’s enough,” Ryan growled. “Charlotte, eat your dinner.”
Ainslee burst into giggles, and I knew she was squeezing Tom’s knee under the table. Pete was ‘coughing’ into his hand and made a decent attempt to make it not sound like stifled laughter.
Tom let out a shaky breath.
“Something wrong, Tom?” Mum asked.
