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

threatened to fold underneath her. ‘Show me the paper.’

‘How about a nice cup of tea first?’ Bob reached for the sugar.

‘Show. Me. The. Paper!’

Lachlan exchanged a mystified look with Jade before picking up The Standard. ‘Here you go.’

The print was blurred and she leaned back, trying to focus, but it was no use. She held out her hand to Bob. ‘I need your reading glasses.’

He reluctantly pulled them out of his pocket and she slid them onto her nose—they were still warm from his face. The words came into focus, sharp and black against the white.

A reliable source informs us that a social housing project—insert low rent, low standards and a mess of social problems—is going to be built on some of the most valuable land in the shire. It’s an outrageous proposal. Think about it. Which would you prefer? A beautifully landscaped country club with world-class facilities? Or burned-out cars, used syringes and a ghetto of addicts? Complete the online survey and have your say.

Helen’s hands shook so hard the paper rustled, but she didn’t know if the trembling consuming her body was shock, anger or both. How had The Standard learned of the submission?

Safe as houses. Her pre-yoga green tea rose on a sea of acid, the bitterness filling her mouth. This was her fault. Why had she confided in someone she barely knew?

Tugging the glasses off her face, she tossed them across the table at Bob. ‘You bastard! Of all the people in this town you could blab to, you had to tell Peter freakin’ Granski?’

Bob rocked back in his chair as if propelled by a slap. ‘I’ve kept your secret. Hell, I’d sooner cross the street than confide in Peter bloody Granski.’

‘I don’t believe you!’

‘Steady on, Helen,’ Lachlan said equably. ‘Uncle Bob might be a wimp around redbacks, but he’s a man of his word. If he said he kept your secret, then he did.’

Helen ignored him. She only had eyes for Bob, scrutinising his face for signs he was lying—a twitch in his cheek, a lowering of his gaze. But he was looking straight at her, his gaze steady.

‘Well, if it wasn’t you, who was it?’ she demanded.

‘Why are you being such a bitch to Bob?’ Jade asked.

‘There are four councillors who are yet to give you their support, Helen,’ Bob said.

‘Bloody men in suits!’

‘I have to get to work.’ Lachlan backed away as if Helen was aiming a loaded gun at his head.

‘Don’t worry about her,’ Jade said. ‘She’s old and she gets weird sometimes. Here.’ She shoved jam-covered gem scones at him. ‘Thanks for helping with the bedhead. It looks awesome.’

‘No worries.’ He ruffled Milo’s hair. ‘See you, squirt. Uncle Bob, I’ll call you about the maize later?’

‘Yeah. Good. Thanks, Lach,’ Bob said distractedly.

Helen didn’t say goodbye—she was already on the phone to Vivian.

CHAPTER

15

The deputy mayor pushed a frothy cappuccino towards Helen. ‘Drink this. You look like you need it.’

‘It’s a disaster!’

‘It’s not great.’

Helen’s gut burned and had been since eight this morning. ‘Who would do something like this?’

‘Who knows. Maybe someone who hates affordable housing?’

‘Or hates women.’

‘Well, there is that.’ Vivian stirred her latte. ‘I think we can safely rule out Messina and Cynthia. Craig and Aki are fence-sitters, so I can’t imagine them doing anything, but dodgy Don’s a different matter entirely. He could be our leak.’

‘What about the mayor? You said he didn’t want any controversy?’

‘True and Granski just made it controversial. Mind you, so are two all-black SUVs coming out of Ainslea Park. It looked like a presidential cavalcade.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Wealthy international horse-racing people who don’t want to be recognised.’

‘You mean sheiks?’ It sounded utterly crazy for Boolanga. Almost as crazy as Cinta’s conspiracy theories. ‘I heard a rumour that a Chinese consortium wanted to buy the land to host parties to hunt deer and kangaroos.’

Vivian laughed. ‘Don’t go drinking the Kool Aid, Helen. The shire would no more sell to the Chinese than fly to the moon.’

‘So you don’t think there’s any truth to Granski’s suggestion of a country club?’

‘Half the town belongs to the country club on the other side of the river. Building another one won’t give investors good ROI.’ Vivian caught Helen’s blank look. ‘Return on investment.’

‘If there isn’t a country club or resort being considered, why would someone leak the submission?’

‘Good question. And this is the third “reliable source” article Peter Granski’s printed in the last couple of months. After Jon Hooper’s call to arms at the Chamber of Commerce awards, I’m starting to wonder if the Irrigation Road lobby group are bribing a staffer.’

‘But this hasn’t got anything to do with car park lighting.’

‘It has everything to do with it.’

‘How?’

Vivian read aloud from the editorial. ‘Boolanga’s rising crime rate is of grave concern. Surely, we need to fix this problem before we invite the homeless and unemployed into our town and add to our current social problems.’

‘That’s outrageous!’

Vivian’s mouth pulled into a sympathetic smile. ‘Welcome to the rough and tumble of politics. Unfortunately, the Right currently control the mouthpiece.’

Fury and frustration spun inside Helen like a tornado. ‘How can we hose down these unsubstantiated claims?’

‘I’d suggest a public meeting, but you only need a couple of loonies to come along and it will do more harm than good. We want to bring councillors on board, not put the wind up them. We need them focusing on the community’s needs, not worrying about re-election.’

‘I want to know which misogynist leaked it!’

‘You and me both. Let’s meet with Cynthia and Messina and see if they’ve heard any gossip from the other councillors, because I know dodgy Don will just lie to my face.’

Helen thought of the months of work, not to mention the love that had gone into the submission. The idea that the tiny housing village might not be built gutted her. ‘I can’t sit back and do nothing.’

‘I’m not suggesting you do. Write a letter to the editor.’

‘Huh! As if Granski would print it.’

‘Ah, but he will.’ Vivian’s eyes glinted