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

she’d call Tara and invite her to take photos of the garden for the Hoopers Facebook page. That way she could check if Tara had lost the deer-in-headlights look.

Helen stifled a yawn, knowing she needed a coffee to get her through the committee meeting. Last night, she and Bob had attended the council meeting pumped and ready with a list of questions for the mayor, only to be disappointed when he was an apology. He was apparently out of the country on a supposed fact-finding mission.

Helen hadn’t seen the point of staying, but Bob had convinced her it set a precedent. ‘If we ask the questions this time, we’ll be able to compare Geoff Rayson’s answers and expose any discrepancies.’ So they’d stayed until stumps.

The flip side of Helen’s disappointment had been a quick chat with Messina and Cynthia, and seeing Vivian in action running a tight council meeting. It was a huge job keeping rambling councillors and ratepayers on track. Had Helen any doubts about Vivian’s ability to be mayor, they’d been vanquished by nine o’clock when the meeting closed.

Now, as Helen stepped into the garden’s shelter, she was surprised by the lack of people milling around chatting and drinking tea and coffee. Instead, everyone was seated around the wide table where Judith was holding court and Sharon was scribbling the minutes.

Helen checked her watch. It wasn’t quite ten thirty and Bob was yet to arrive.

‘Morning, everyone.’ She took a seat at the end of the table.

Murmurs of ‘Hello, Helen’ greeted her from most people. Dot gave her a wide smile.

She unzipped her compendium. ‘Did I miss the memo about the time change?’

Judith pursed her lips. ‘Everyone was here so we started.’

The slap was obvious but Helen refused to bite. ‘Bob’s not here.’

‘Bob’s an apology,’ Sharon said.

The last thing Bob had said to her last night was, ‘See you tomorrow’. Was he sick? The thought bothered her.

‘Did he say why?’ she asked.

‘No. It was just a short text saying he was unavailable.’

Sharon’s words stung Helen with unwanted hurt. She briskly reminded herself that Bob wasn’t required to text her if he wasn’t coming—they didn’t have that sort of friendship.

She glanced around the table and did a headcount. Everyone else was here.

‘Did you receive an apology from me, Sharon?’

Sharon looked between her and Judith and chewed her pen. ‘Ah, no.’

Helen met Judith’s combative gaze. ‘The agenda clearly states the meeting starts at ten thirty and not everyone was here at ten twenty-five.’

‘Everyone who is a member of this committee was present.’

‘I’m a member of this committee, Judith.’

A triumphant glint flashed in the president’s eyes. ‘Your position on the committee was attached to your job as the caretaker. As you’ve been stripped of that role, you’re no longer entitled to serve on the committee.’

Helen’s hands fisted in her lap. ‘As a paid-up member of the garden, I’m very much entitled to serve.’

‘The constitution states that the committee consists of a president, vice president, secretary, treasurer and no more than five ordinary members.’ Judith stretched out her arm to indicate the other people. ‘All the positions are filled. You’ll have to wait until the AGM before you can nominate. That’s if you’re still a member.’

‘I have no intention of resigning.’

‘You may not have but the committee’s looking at disciplinary action.’

If power was an aphrodisiac then Judith was experiencing her first orgasm in a very long time.

Sweat broke out on Helen’s hairline. ‘Disciplinary action? On what grounds?’

‘Engaging in conduct prejudicial to the association.’

‘How have you come to that conclusion?’

Judith jerked her thumb towards the boundary fence. ‘That garden. It’s lowered the tone and impacted on the garden’s good name and reputation.’

Anger streaked through Helen’s veins, then boiled over. ‘I find that hard to believe given the purpose of the garden.’ She pulled a copy of the model rules from her compendium and flicked to a page. ‘To involve a wide range of members from the broader community regardless of age, gender or background.’

‘But we’ve had people drop off the waiting list,’ Sharon said.

‘People join and drop off the waiting list all the time! If they’re not joining because of the garden extension that can only be a good thing. This garden doesn’t need any more racists.’

‘That sort of offensive remark is why we’re pursuing disciplinary action,’ Judith said tartly.

Helen opened her mouth to say she could think of far more offensive remarks made by the committee, but stopped. Discretion is the better part of valour. Bloody Bob and his expressions. Now he had her thinking them.

She looked around the table. Everyone, including Dot, had their heads down studiously avoiding eye contact, either too scared of Judith to speak up or not caring enough to defend Helen. After all, this was volunteering—a supposedly enjoyable and feel-good activity. Most people came along for the company and the cake.

She knew this fight was really only between her and Judith. Of course the despot had chosen today to act—Bob was absent. Helen wasn’t stupid. She knew a war of words with Judith would only annoy the rest of the committee and give the woman more power. She took another tack.

Glancing around at the bowed heads, she said, ‘Has Judith mentioned that if you decide to pursue disciplinary action, you’ll need to form a subcommittee? I have the right to take this to mediation and that will involve at least one full day in Melbourne. Possibly two.’

Murmurs whipped around the table. A couple of heads rose, brows furrowed.

‘I look after the grandkids. I can’t take off to Melbourne for two days,’ Vin said.

‘I can’t afford accommodation in Melbourne,’ Ann said.

‘And if mediation is unsuccessful,’ Helen continued, ‘I can seek my own legal action against the garden and individuals.’

She wouldn’t—she couldn’t afford to—but they didn’t know that.

‘As can we,’ Judith said. ‘Helen, you’re no longer on the committee. You need to leave.’

‘I may not have voting rights, but as a member I can attend any meeting as an observer.’

Judith looked to Sharon, who riffled through the model rules. ‘It