A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (feel good books .txt) 📕

from her life on mostly long and lonely nights. The library also saved her money. It was a place to hang—warm in winter, cool in summer and with free wifi. People who whinged about how slow the NBN was had no freaking idea how lucky they were to afford the internet at home.

As Jade approached the red-brick building, Milo’s stroller activated the automatic doors—another reason Jade loved the library—and then Fran, the librarian, was waving hello.

‘Oh good! You’re just in time,’ she said.

‘Why? Are you closing? Do I have time to borrow something?’ The thought of leaving without a book sent anxiety scuttling in Jade’s veins. ‘I’ve finished Jasper Jones and you said I should read To Kill a Mockingbird next.’

Fran smiled. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for books after Baby Time.’

Jade’s stomach cramped so fast she almost doubled over. You dumb, stupid cow! How had she forgotten it was Wednesday? Worse than that, why had she come to the library right on eleven fifteen? Dread dragged at her and she reluctantly glanced beyond Fran to the group of well-dressed women sitting in a circle holding their babies in their laps.

‘It’s music again today,’ Fran said encouragingly.

The last time Jade had attended Baby Time, she’d felt stupid sitting there singing and clapping when Milo’s only response was to huddle in her lap and bury his face in her chest. It hadn’t helped that all the other babies had cooed and clapped and smiled and drooled. Failure had pinned her to the carpet, twisting shame and humiliation into every cell and was accompanied by the barbed message: Why did you think you could do this? You suck as a mother like you suck at everything else.

The side-eye glances of the other women hadn’t helped. They were all much older than her—every mother in town was—and most of them were either married or lived with their partner in big houses close to the river. At the first class, a couple of them had quizzed her, then said, ‘Wow! I could never have done what you’re doing when I was your age,’ as if Jade had a choice.

When Fran had left the room to get a hand puppet, the Queen Bee of the group had asked, ‘Does Milo have a dad?’

What sort of a stupid question was that? Of course he had a dad, but she’d been so pissed off, she’d said, ‘Nah, it was an immaculate conception.’

A couple of the women had laughed but not the Queen Bee. She’d given Jade the stink eye then ignored her. That suited Jade to a T.

‘And after class, this time you can go to Bert & Bears with everyone,’ Fran suggested softly. ‘It will be nice for you to have some company.’ Her face shone with enthusiasm. ‘The great thing about a mother and babies group is you’re all experiencing the same things. It gives you lots in common and breaks up the week. It’s a perfect antidote to loneliness.’

Jade didn’t agree. When she was with this group of women, her stomach churned, sweat beaded under her arms and she’d never doubted her mothering abilities more. She’d already been to the café with the other women. It was the reason she’d been dodging Baby Time for the last two weeks. Kasey—the only one who wasn’t a total stuck-up bitch—had invited her.

Jade had been pleased to be part of the pram parade crossing the road, but once inside the café, everything changed. When she saw the food and drinks prices, she’d stuck to sipping the water the waitress had fancied up with bits of lemon.

The group had talked about their holidays—Noosa was divine, Byron too busy—how they only fed their babies organic vegetables, only dressed them in bamboo onesies that cost what Jade paid each month for her electricity, how tired they all were and how their partners tried but ‘he doesn’t fold the laundry properly’ or ‘he said he cleaned the toilet but honestly, I had to do it again’.

Jade had sat mute, convinced she was visiting a foreign country. Apart from the fatigue, nothing about their lives was familiar. She didn’t own a car, didn’t even have her driver’s licence and she’d never been on a plane. Other than school camps and the scholarship she’d won to summer camp at Portsea when she was fifteen, she’d never had a holiday. She could count on one hand how many times she’d travelled to Melbourne—always by train or coach. And when Corey was in town, he never cooked or cleaned, and if she’d owned a washing machine, he wouldn’t know how to turn it on, let alone peg the washing out or fold it.

These women treated motherhood as a competitive sport, but Jade couldn’t afford to join their club, let alone buy the uniform. Being in their presence only made her lonelier. Which was saying something when she didn’t know anyone in town and sometimes when Corey was away, the unit closed in on her like a jail cell.

‘Sorry, Fran, I can’t stay today,’ she said. ‘Milo didn’t sleep much last night and he’s really clingy. I only walked up here to send him to sleep.’

Disappointment dimmed Fran’s smile. ‘He does look like he’s just nodding off. Never mind. Let’s try again next week.’

No way in hell. ‘Sure.’

As much as she hated lying to Fran, who’d only ever been kind to her, the refusal was self-preservation. Nothing would entice her anywhere near the library on a Wednesday ever again. She’d take being home alone every time over being judged wanting by that group of stuck-up bitches.

CHAPTER

4

Despite the outcome of the committee meeting several days ago, Helen was yet to break the news to Fiza that there wasn’t a plot available for her. So confident was she of finding a way around the problem, she’d texted Fiza to reschedule the visit as soon as the meeting had ended. Fiza had replied immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and followed with a message containing her address