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

no way Daddy’s coming home today, kiddo. Let’s go.’

Anticipation sliced three minutes off her usual walk time, but Jade’s bubbling excitement flattened like stale lemonade when she arrived and found the garden empty. Tears prickled and she blinked fast. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t cry over shit like this.

She cuddled Milo, kissing his chubby cheeks, then said brightly as much for herself as for him, ‘Look what Mummy planted.’

She squatted down. The chives were clumping and thickening nicely and the soil was damp. The women must have been here recently, but even so there were snails snuggling up to the tender new leaves on the tomato seedlings. She tossed the marauders out of the bed, planning to stomp on them. After that, she probably should go to the cottage and return Helen’s gloves.

‘G’day.’ It was the bloke from the farmers’ market and an old dog with a friendly face.

She stood up. ‘I’m allowed to be here.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Bob.’

Old codgers didn’t usually offer to shake her hand. She couldn’t remember shaking anyone’s hand since she’d won the reading prize at school in year nine. She hesitated for a second then slid her hand into his for a quick shake, pulling it away fast. ‘Jade.’

‘And who’s this little fella?’

‘Milo.’ She looked at her feet then, unsure of what to do or say next.

‘Which bed is yours?’

‘I don’t have one.’ In case he questioned her on why she was here she added, ‘But I helped plant this one.’

‘Good for you.’

She checked his craggy silver-stubbled face for signs he was taking the piss. But he was smiling at her as if he was pleased for her. Or pleased she’d helped.

‘Are you thinking of getting your own bed?’ he asked.

‘Not if you can’t grow flowers.’

‘Who said you can’t grow flowers?’

‘Helen.’

He frowned. ‘Are you sure she said the words “you can’t grow flowers”?’

Something about the way he asked the question made her reluctantly revisit her conversation with Helen. ‘She said, “I can’t eat flowers.” And I said, “You can.” Some anyway.’

His frown lifted. ‘I think she was talking about herself rather than a decree on what you can and can’t plant. If you want to grow flowers, you can grow flowers. The only rules are that you look after the plot and keep it neat and tidy. Don’t let the weeds take over.’

Eagerness fizzed in Jade at the thought of growing dahlias, gerberas and sunflowers. ‘Can I have my own patch?’

‘I don’t see why not. We just have to run it past Helen first.’

Dejection swooped in. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

He gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘Sometimes I feel the same way.’

Jade laughed. ‘Does she boss you around too?’

‘Little bit. I know she can be a bit spiky, but she’s fair. If you really want a bed, I’m sure she’ll allocate you a space.’ He started walking and when she didn’t follow he turned back. ‘Come on.’

‘Where?’

‘To find Helen.’

Her heart beat faster. She didn’t share Bob’s confidence that Helen would welcome her into the garden. ‘Um … maybe another day.’

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Jade. There’s no time like the present. Carpe diem.’

What did fish have to do with it? ‘Carpe what?’

‘Seize the day. It’s Latin. Horace was a Roman poet and he said something like “Time is fleeing, seize the day and put no trust in the future”.’

Jade had never really trusted the present let alone the future. ‘So it’s an old dude’s way of saying “Just do it”?’

‘Smart girl. Exactly that.’

And although she knew she should be wary of strangers who gave her compliments, especially men—young, old or otherwise—she followed him and his dog.

Helen had just arrived home from her meeting with Vivian when she heard a knock on the front door. No one ever used the front door. Then again, few people visited and she didn’t have a problem with that. It was easier to stay private and keep the past where it belonged if she met people out in the world rather than inviting them into the cottage.

She tugged on the stiff front door and finally got it open to reveal Bob and Jade standing on the veranda. Astonishment made her blurt, ‘You went home with my gloves.’

Jade’s chin shot up. ‘It was an accident. I tried to give them back to you at the farmers’ market but you weren’t there.’

‘I doubt that’s my fault, but thanks for returning them.’ Helen held out her hand.

‘About that …’ Bob’s fingers kneaded the brim of his hat. ‘If it’s okay with you, can Jade hold onto the gloves for a bit? We’ve been having a bit of a yarn and she’d like her own plot. Wouldn’t you, Jade?’

The girl’s gaze fell to her feet before rising to Helen’s face. ‘Yeah. I wanna grow flowers.’

‘Flowers are a one-day wonder,’ Helen said stiffly. ‘You’d be better off growing vegetables so your pension goes further.’

‘True. Growing flowers from seeds and cuttings and enjoying the results is shockingly frivolous,’ Bob said, his eyes twinkling.

Jade smirked and Helen got the message loud and clear—she was being too harsh. Again.

‘If you have a garden plot, you do realise you’ll have to come every couple of days to water and weed?’

‘Well, duh.’

‘If you lose interest, you lose the plot.’

‘If I lose interest, I’ll tell you I’m leaving.’

The comment surprised Helen and she had to concede it was far more honest than what she was used to from other garden members. In the last year, three members just stopped turning up, allowing weeds to overrun their beds. Protracted phone tag and uncomfortable phone calls followed, always with promises of ‘I’m onto it. We’ll do it this weekend’. Nine times out of ten they never showed up and Helen wasted her time issuing the three warnings required by the model rules before the plot could be assigned to the next person on the waiting list.

‘Thank you, Jade. Being told upfront you no longer want the plot would be much