A Home Like Ours

by Fiona Lowe

  Helen glanced around the shop; it was full of examples. Most were shire signs, but there was one for Ainslea Park and another for Geoff Rayson’s accounting firm.

  ‘You seem to do a bit of work for the shire,’ she said. ‘You must be more competitive than Sign On.’

  ‘I like to think so.’

  She turned back to the counter and noticed a photograph of a rowing crew holding a trophy aloft. ‘Is that you and Geoff Rayson?’

  Len laughed. ‘Back in our glory days when we were younger and lighter. Mind you, we rowed in the inaugural Boolanga Business Regatta last year and came third.’

  ‘Not too shabby.’ She picked up the printed quote. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll check in with Sign On and get back to you.’

  ‘Ah, Helen …’ Len leaned over the counter. ‘I’m the shire’s approved sign-writer so if you use someone else, Finance might not reimburse you. I wouldn’t want you or the garden to be out of pocket.’

  ‘Right.’

  Except not a lot about the information seemed right at all. Helen’s mind churned on the walk back to the cottage.

  As she opened the gate, she heard Milo’s cries. A rush of goosebumps raised her skin and she rubbed her arms, hoping Kubra, Aima or Baseera were about. They adored Milo and often gave Jade a hand.

  But when Helen came out from behind the trees, Jade was standing next to her garden bed, jiggling Milo in her arms. The rest of the garden was empty.

  Plants in pots were positioned across the freshly raked bed, marking their future place in the soil. One plant lay on the ground, already out of its pot.

  Helen couldn’t stop herself. ‘The roots will dry out.’

  Jade rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, boomer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re stating the obvious. I know it’s drying out, but Milo was screaming blue murder. I don’t need child protection breathing down my neck on top of all the other crap!’

  Self-reproach stung Helen into action and she bent down to pick up the plant. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘No!’ Jade blinked rapidly. ‘I mean, no, thank you. Can you hold Milo instead? He hasn’t stopped crying all day.’

  Helen stood slowly and met the baby’s blue-grey eyes. He looked at her pensively as if he knew she’d inevitably disappoint him. Judging her with unspoken words—you didn’t do a very good job last time.

  Every part of her screamed no. ‘I don’t do—’

  ‘Please.’

  Anguish carried on the plea and Helen took a closer look at Jade. Black smudges—not mascara—coloured the skin under her eyes. Her hair was greasy, pulled back in a raggedy ponytail as if it had been done in a hurry, and she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn the previous two days. The girl was strung out and exhausted.

  Helen remembered what that was like. Reluctantly, she held out her arms and accepted the baby. He immediately screamed and flung himself sideways, reaching for his mother. The strength in the movement shocked her as much as his weight. When Nicki was one, she’d been half his size and had lain 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 on the internet, it’s there forever. It only takes one journalist to dig it up and it’s back again to haunt you.’

  ‘But I didn’t do it.’

  ‘The law doesn’t care. Geoff’s masculinity’s been mocked on your Facebook page.’ A long sigh crackled in the speaker. ‘I’m really sorry, Helen. I’ll write you a glowing reference and talk to Lee at Boolanga Real Estate. She’ll look after you.’

  Helen managed to push out a ‘Thanks’ through a tight throat.

  ‘And don’t give up, hey?’ Vivian added. ‘This is just a temporary setback. You’ll see!’

  ‘How? I’ve lost my job and my home.’

  ‘I know it looks hopeless at the moment, but this fiasco’s shown me Geoff’s true colours. I’m done giving him my support. Boolanga needs a mayor who puts community first, not himself. I’m going to run for mayor.’

  ‘But that’s a year away.’

  ‘Depending on what other stunts he pulls, it could be closer. Either way, I promise that once I’m mayor, I’ll put the focus squarely back on the community and transparency.’

  Helen remembered her conversation with Len at Boolanga Signs. ‘Does the shire only do business with Boolanga Signs?’

  ‘No. Jobs are open to tender.’

  ‘So if the best quote came in from Sign On, the shire would pay for the sign?’

  ‘That’s how I understand it works. Why?’

  ‘You might want to do a bit of digging into how many signs the mayor’s rowing mate has overcharged ratepayers for.’

  There was an audible intake of breath. ‘My fellow councillors would be very interested in that sort of information.’

  ‘Interested enough to bring a motion of no confidence in the mayor?’

  ‘Hopefully! If you hear anything else, let me know. Meanwhile, stay strong.’

  The line went dead and Helen looked up into Jade’s eyes, surprised to see the bright light of anger.

  ‘What a prick!’ Jade said.

  ‘You won’t get an argument from me.’

  ‘At least one good thing—’

  ‘Don’t even think about saying something like adversity is a gift.’ Helen glared at Bob. ‘Or an opportunity.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dare. Make you a cuppa?’

  His kindness pulled at the barely holding seams of her control. ‘What about one of your Irish coffees?’

  ‘I only carry a hip flask for night fishing.’

  ‘Lucky I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in the pantry for emergencies.’

  They trooped inside the cottage. Jade sat at the table and put Milo at her feet, giving him Helen’s measuring spoons to play with and suck on. Bob boiled the kettle and Helen retrieved the whiskey, sloshing it into a mug.

  Bob frowned.

  ‘What?’ Helen snapped. ‘Suddenly you’re a wowser?’

  ‘No. I’ve just never seen you this rattled before.’

  ‘You ever been evicted, Bob?’ Jade asked.

  ‘Got close once during the drought in the eighties, but we managed to hold on.’

  ‘Holding on’s not the same,’ Jade said.

  ‘Holding on means there’s still hope.’ Helen’s voice trembled despite her determination to sound calm.

  ‘I hated it when the letter finally came,’ Jade said quietly, looking nowhere in particular. ‘Whenever it arrived, I’d be dumped at Gran’s. It’s bullshit that grandmothers are all soft and cuddly. Every time I stayed, she’d tell my mother, “You chose to have the damn kid, you look after her.” If I didn’t do all the chores she’d threaten to call child protection. Weeks would go by and when Mum finally turned up to collect me, Gran would give her a bill. I visited my grandmother before she died and she told me I owed her five hundred bucks.’

  ‘But you had a roof over your head and a bed. You weren’t sleeping in a car or on the streets,’ Helen said.

  ‘I did once, when Gran refused to take me.’

  Bob muttered something that sounded a lot like swearing and added whiskey to his own coffee. He took a gulp. ‘You’re not going to be homeless, Helen.’

  ‘And why are you so confident?’

  ‘I’ve got a spare room for a start.’

  ‘I’m not moving in with you!’

  ‘Jeez, Helen. Keep your hair on,’ Jade said. ‘No one would care. It’s not like you and Bob would be getting it on. You’re too old. But if you’re that worried about your reputation—’

  ‘My reputation? Remind me what year we’re in again?’

  ‘Jade’s been reading Anna Karenina,’ Bob said.

  His eyes twinkled, spinning delight around her and she laughed, momentarily forgetting that her hard-fought security had just been pulled out from under her, leaving her in a precarious situation. Old memories stirred—the addiction of attraction, the giddiness of new love—and quickly turned rancid in her belly. She dropped her gaze, berating her foolishness. What the hell was wrong with her? She was too old for this sort of nonsense.

  ‘Anna Karenina? Then she knows that depending on a man only ends in tears.’

  ‘That’s a bit rough on poor Levin,’ Bob said.

  ‘Yeah. He and Kitty ended up happy.’ Jade dangled the spoons in front of Milo. ‘If you don’t want to use Bob’s spare room, I s’pose I could help.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you have three bedrooms?’ Helen said.

  Jade’s expression turned cagey. ‘You can have Milo’s room for a hundred and twenty dollars a week plus half the electricity.’

  Ah! The offer, under the guise of help, suddenly made sense. Jade was struggling financially—of course she was. That bastard Corey probably didn’t give her much. You don’t know that. But her gut told her it was true. Could they help each other? Could she live in a house with Jade let alone an almost toddler? She’d avoided children for so long but this would throw her right into Milo’s path. Did she even have a choice?

  ‘You want me to pay half the electricity?’ she said. ‘There’s two of you and one of me.’

  ‘Milo doesn’t use much.’

  ‘I bet you wash more of his clothes than your own each week.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s at the laundromat.’

  Helen ran through her finances. She could ask Con for more shifts at the café, but ther
e were no guarantees, especially as his daughter was working as much as she could to pay for a trip to Greece.

  ‘I’ll pay a third of the electricity and bring my washing machine.’

  Jade tinkled the spoons, mulling over the offer. ‘Only if the extra electricity costs less than what I’d spend at the laundromat.’

  ‘I think you’re both wasting your skills,’ Bob said. ‘You should be working as negotiators.’

  Jade looked straight at Helen. ‘And you don’t get to boss me around.’

  Helen momentarily considered Bob’s offer, then remembered the effect of his twinkling eyes. Sparring with Jade would be a lot safer.

  CHAPTER

  24

  So much had happened, Tara could barely wrap her head around all of it. Jon had been pricked, prodded and scanned and his neurologist, Dr Jaya, had ruled out a series of other conditions. His diagnosis matched Stephen’s—young Parkinson’s.

  Although she’d hardly thought about running or about Zac, he’d been the first person Tara called when Jon got the official diagnosis. She’d justified it as necessary. After what had happened between them, she needed to explain why she was cancelling her appointments. She didn’t want Zac to think she was ghosting him, not when he’d been so kind. And honest. But mostly she’d called him because he was the only person she knew who didn’t know Jon. He was the only person she could tell. And she’d needed to tell someone.

  ‘My husband’s got Parkinson’s disease.’

  ‘Shit. Sorry.’ Silence buzzed down the line then Zac cleared his throat. ‘I thought Parkinson’s was just for old dudes.’

  A wave of grief hit her and she’d leaned against the wall. ‘Apparently, there’s more chance of winning the lottery than getting young Parkinson’s.’

  ‘That sucks. For both of you.’

  ‘Pretty much.’ She was struck by how talking to Zac was always a combination of wise adult and man-child.

  ‘Is that why he wasn’t interested in sex?’

  ‘It’s all connected.’

  ‘At least you know for certain he hasn’t been screwing around on you. That’s gotta help.’

  She’d laughed, then immediately choked on tears.

  ‘You gonna be okay?’ he’d asked.