Rose's Vintage (31 page)

‘Okay. I just have to convince my parents. I think they want to take me back to the Tyrol on the next plane.'

‘Why don't you invite them to meet Thommo, for a meal or a drink perhaps? He's a good bloke, you know, and I've no doubt he'll be able to charm them, especially your mum.'

‘I know he is. I'll do that as soon as I've had the chance to warn him, and Mark,' Astrid paused. ‘Thanks again, so much. Your understanding means a lot to me.'

‘Good. Now that's settled, is there anything for lunch? I could eat a buttered frog,' he said.

Rose smiled to herself. Thank goodness that had gone well. Astrid was two for two. Now all she had to do was win her parents around.

CHAPTER 31

A
week later, as Rose was bringing in the dry laundry from the line, she rested the basket on one hip and paused, lost in thought. Seeing Astrid with her parents, difficult as that relationship obviously was, had made her homesick. She really missed Henry. Hell, it would even be nice to see her mum right now. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, and Rose felt like the house was looming over here, with the hills beyond it: she suddenly felt very small and very far away from home. Mark was holed up in the winery and Isabella, it seemed, was here to stay, for the foreseeable future at least.

Isabella's main aim seemed to be to make Rose's and Astrid's lives as difficult as possible. Nothing was good enough. She complained about Rose's cooking (‘too dry', ‘too spicy', ‘too cold') – though never in front of Mark, Rose noted – and found fault with Astrid's care of the children. ‘I don't understand why they shovel their food in like that, honestly. Have you not taught them any manners?'

With Leo and Luisa, she blew hot and cold, one minute smothering them with affection, the next scolding them, irritated by their boisterousness. ‘Sit up straight, Leo, you slump like a sack of oranges!' ‘Be quiet, Luisa! I can't hear myself think!' She evidently liked the
idea
of being a mother, but perhaps the actual day-to-day demands were far too exhausting and beneath her, thought Rose sourly.

She was also all over Mark, trailing a hand along his as they sat at the dinner table, wrapping an arm around his waist, kissing him extravagantly whenever anyone else was around. ‘Remember our honeymoon, darling?' she asked one night at dinner. ‘That little restaurant just off the Champs Elysée? Rose, you really must try it when you're next in Paris. They way they cooked the lamb—' she poked at the chops that Rose had cooked as if making a point.

Patronising cow.

To be fair, Mark didn't seem to be responding, and in fact looked rather uncomfortable at Isabella's displays of affection, but it made Rose feel sick to watch the man she was crazy about being fawned over by another woman, even if that woman was his wife and the mother of his children. This thought, in turn, made her feel even worse. Isabella might be a complete bitch, but Mark was her husband, and Leo and Luisa her children. Rose was the odd one out, not Isabella.

It didn't help that Astrid's parents were also staying, so Rose was busy cooking and clearing up huge meals for a houseful of people. She felt like she was running a fully booked B&B – one where none of the guests left tips or said so much as a word of thanks. Au pairs were usually expected to work around thirty hours a week. Seventy and counting was more like it at the moment. If she hadn't been so fond of the kids, and holding onto a shred of hope that Isabella might change her mind and leave, she would have been off like a shot, back to Bondi.

At least Henry had temporarily stopped hassling her for information. He was in Spain, embroiled in another winery takeover there. When she'd emailed him complaining about Isabella – ‘Honestly, she's making life hell. I know she's doing it on purpose too. I don't know what Mark ever saw in her.' – he'd told her to stop whining and remember why she was there. He'd been uncharacteristically curt with her and Rose was hurt by his lack of sympathy.

She'd never felt so alone.

Removing the last of the wisps of fabric that passed for Isabella's lingerie from the line and resisting the urge to tear them to shreds and blame the washing machine – ‘You must be careful. They are very expensive,' Isabella had warned – Rose trudged indoors, contemplating the prospect of another boring early night.

She'd just reached the barn when she bumped into Jake, who looked to be on his way out.

‘Hey, Rosie, what's up? You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come on, it can't be that bad. Look, if it's any comfort, I don't reckon she'll be hanging around that long. I overheard her and Mark having a doozey of a blue on the phone when we were out in the vineyards this morning.'

Rose's spirits lifted fractionally. ‘Really?'

He nodded. ‘Anyway, fancy going to the pub? I'm meeting Angie and Deano and some of the others there.'

Rose had been tossing up between getting a head start on the morning's baking for the weekend or collapsing in the barn in front of the telly.
Exciting life I'm leading
, she'd thought.

‘Sure, why not?'

As Rose entered the pub, she spotted Astrid and Thommo sitting with Astrid's parents on the far side of the room. Astrid flashed her an anxious look.

‘I think they need back-up,' Rose muttered to Jake.

‘Really? If I were you I'd be leaving that well alone.'

‘I'm going over to give them moral support.' Astrid had had several conversations with Rose about her parents' insistence that she return to Austria with them and her own desire to stay at Kalkari, and how she might convince them of her wishes.

‘Well, if you must, but don't say I didn't warn you …'

Rose made her way over to the table. ‘Mr and Mrs Grosskopf, how are you?'

The couple nodded, and Thommo pulled out a seat for her.

‘I was just telling my mother about the hospital in New Bridgeton,' said Astrid.

‘Oh, yes, I went there with Astrid for her scan. It's terrific. Very modern. There's a special birthing unit. Astrid's going to be in the best possible place, with the best of care.'

Astrid smiled gratefully at her friend for her support, but Helga frowned. ‘It's not the hospital that I'm worried about. Astrid's place is at home, with her family.'

‘But
Mutti
, I have family here now,' Astrid protested.

‘Helga we have to let her make her own mind up,' Hans chipped in.

‘Can I get you another drink?' asked Thommo.

‘That would be nice, thank you, Thomas,' said Helga. ‘This riesling is not so bad actually.'

‘We like it,' said Thommo. ‘It's a local drop.'

‘So, can you be telling me, Thomas—' Astrid's father paused.

‘Thommo, please. That's what everyone calls me.'

‘Thommo,' he said. ‘Tell me, just what are you intending with my daughter?'

‘Father, this isn't the Dark Ages!' said Astrid, in an exasperated tone.

‘No, it's okay, sweetheart, he's entitled to ask,' said Thommo. ‘I have to admit this has taken all of us by surprise, but I intend to stand by Astrid, and do whatever she needs me to do. She can count on me one hundred per cent. And so can the baby.'

‘Oh,' huffed Hans, the wind having been clearly taken out of his sails. ‘Well, that's good, I suppose.'

‘She is still of course going to come home to Austria to have the baby,' insisted Helga. ‘There is no question of that.'

CHAPTER 32

‘S
anta come soon?' asked Luisa as she and Rose trooped over to the henhouse in search of fresh eggs the next morning.

The sun was already burning bright in the sky, with the promise of a scorcher to come, and Rose's head was pounding from one too many beers in the pub the night before. It had been a stupid idea to try to drown her sorrows. All she'd got for her trouble was a killer hangover.

Luisa's question reminded Rose that it was already mid-December: the holiday season was only a few weeks away. She hadn't given it much thought yet, but a hot Christmas was something she couldn't quite get her head around. If she'd been back in England, the air would be sharp with frost, darkness would be falling in the middle of the afternoon, and everyone would be bundled up in winter coats. It all seemed like another world.

‘Yes, sweetie, not long now. What would you like Father Christmas to bring you?'

‘An umbrella. A dolly. And Mummy stay.'

Rose gulped. She and Mark still hadn't talked about Isabella. In fact, they hadn't talked much at all since Isabella had come back. Only the fact that she couldn't bear to leave the kids kept her hanging on.

‘Well, Lulu, let's hope Father Christmas brings you everything you want. Those sound like really good things to wish for,' she said as Luisa skipped off ahead of her. ‘Now, how many eggs do you think the ladies will have left us this morning?'

Two days later Mark wandered into the kitchen while Rose was cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She was alone: Astrid was on her way to drop Leo at school.