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

limp in Helen’s arms like a stunned bird. She tightened her grip on Milo, worried she’d drop him.

Jade sprinkled some water-storing crystals into the hole and added water. Milo’s screams competed with the screeching corellas.

Helen tensed, wondering how she could distract him. Shafts of sunlight caught a mosaic in the main garden so she walked to the fence. Milo stilled, fascinated by the dancing sparkles of light bouncing off the pieces of mirror among the ceramic tiles.

‘Look at that pretty rooster,’ Helen said. ‘He’s got a good life strutting around the herb garden.’

Milo pointed. ‘Doo doo.’

Helen’s throat thickened with joy and heartache at the normalcy of the child’s reaction—something most people took for granted. ‘Yes. Cock-a-doodle-doo.’

His mother must have taught him the sounds and, not for the first time, Helen struggled with the conundrum that was Jade. For all her defensiveness and asperity, the girl had a natural curiosity that life had thankfully not yet extinguished. Helen wondered what Jade would have done with herself if she hadn’t got pregnant. Then again, how bright was she getting involved with Corey?

Unfair! Helen mentally slapped herself. IQ and EQ were two completely different beasts—she should know. It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with the overwhelming need to be loved and how it could leave a woman vulnerable. For a time, she’d lived that story. She wished Jade could fast forward to the inevitable disillusionment and heartache when the scales fell from her eyes and she realised that Corey was a self-centred prick. A user of her love and affection. That she’d be better off without him in her life. But once a child was involved, it got ever more tangled and complicated. Helen knew that with Theo, she’d held onto hope for far too long.

‘Ob! Ob!’ Milo flung himself towards the fence.

The Coaster bus had pulled up and Bob was disembarking with other members of the garden. Some gave Helen a wave and others ignored her—it depended on their allegiance to Judith.

Bob gesticulated that he’d walk around to them and, without second-guessing herself, Helen turned towards the cottage. She’d ply Bob with tea and fruitcake and get all the gossip.

Her phone rang. Dodging Milo’s grabby hands with movements worthy of a magician, she managed to answer it. ‘Hello.’

‘Helen, it’s Vivian. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you.’

‘That’s okay, I know you’re bus—’

‘It’s not great news, I’m afraid. I spoke to Elise who referred me to Ryan Tippett in Engineering. He says the wiring’s shot. He’s adamant it’s uninhabitable and for your safety, they won’t budge on seven days.’

The tremble hit Helen’s legs and she sat down hard on the veranda steps.

‘I’ve been as understanding as I can, Mrs Demetriou, but I’m not a charity.’

‘But what about my furniture? I haven’t got anywhere I can go.’

‘I’ll sell it and put it towards your back rent.’

‘This is Judith’s handiwork, isn’t it?’ Helen managed.

‘Judith’s certainly been complaining about you to anyone who’ll listen, but she’s not responsible for the cottage being condemned.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘And she has no sway in the day-to-day running of the shire.’

Helen’s mouth dried. ‘So the caretaker stipend? Was it attached to the cottage?’

‘Not exactly.’

Thank God. It was the first hopeful thing Vivian had said. Helen swapped her phone to her other hand and tried to distract Milo with an old boot.

‘… the auditor pointed out that as there’s already a voluntary management committee in place for the garden, the caretaker role is unnecessary.’

‘But they’ve known that since I took on the job three years ago! What’s changed?’

‘You didn’t tell me you’d started a Facebook page.’

Her skin flashed hot and cold at Vivian’s accusatory tone. ‘I didn’t not tell you. It’s just each time we’ve talked recently, we’ve had far more important things to discuss.’

‘It’s important. People live and die by social media, Helen! What were you thinking?’

‘You said to argue my side.’

‘Writing letters to the editor at The Standard is completely different from getting on social media and saying the mayor’s in bed with sheiks on a land deal!’

Indignation stormed through her. ‘I didn’t say that. I said there were rumours. Rumours you told me about!’

‘In confidence!’ Vivian sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Helen, but you’ve really stuffed this up. Why did you have to make a fool of Geoff?’

‘How have I made a fool of him?’

Jade and Bob arrived at the veranda steps and Jade thankfully lifted Milo out of Helen’s arms.

‘You made a meme,’ Vivian said.

‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Sorry, can you just hang on a second?’ She muted the phone. ‘I need to see the Facebook page. And what’s a meme?’

‘Bob, give me your phone.’ Jade swapped Milo for the device and scrolled quickly, before handing the phone to Helen. ‘That’s a meme.’

She stared at an unflattering photo of Geoff on a horse and a photoshopped photo next to it of Geoff on a camel with the hashtag animalcruelty. ‘The mayor thinks I made it.’

Jade laughed. ‘As if.’

‘Not helpful, Jade,’ Bob said.

‘Sorry. Maybe you were hacked.’

With shaking fingers, Helen pressed buttons to unmute the phone. ‘Sorry, Vivian. I’ve just seen the meme. It wasn’t me. I think I’ve been hacked.’

‘I’ve spent the last hour pleading your case but Geoff’s intransigent.’ Somehow, Vivian’s voice was suddenly on speaker. ‘I told him everything you’ve done for the garden—the refugees, food for the homeless—but he wants you gone.’

‘But I didn’t do it. He can’t just sack me! There are protocols. A warning system.’

‘You’re on a contract,’ Vivian said.

‘So?’

‘Unfortunately, no warnings are required. It’s buried in the fine print.’

Half-formed words flung themselves around Helen’s head, inaudible over the roar of panic burning through the lining of her stomach.

‘What if I take down the Facebook page?’

Jade waved her hand in front of Helen’s face, mouthing No.

‘Good idea,’ Vivian said. ‘It’s a sign of good will, which means he might not sue.’

Helen’s mouth dried so fast her tongue stuck to her palate. ‘What if I apologise to him face to face?’

‘An apology won’t remove the meme. Once something’s