A Home Like Ours Fiona Lowe (good novels to read .txt) 📖
- Author: Fiona Lowe
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‘So that’s why our rates have gone up! Bloody waste of money,’ someone grumbled.
‘Art won’t fix the mess that’s recycling!’ someone else called out.
As murmured rumblings rolled around the crowd, Jade rose on tiptoe trying to see who was responsible. The mayor looked peeved he’d been interrupted. Jade recognised some of the other councillors with their families, shifting uncomfortably.
Vivian Leppart leaned into the microphone. ‘I share your concerns, Terry, and we’re working hard on finding a solution. Unfortunately, we’re not immune to global forces and now China’s changed its policy—’
‘We shouldn’t be depending on China for anything,’ someone else said.
‘Tell that to the government. They’ve given away our manufacturing.’
‘Bloody yellow peril,’ someone called out.
The mayor’s shoulders squared and he changed from a bit of a pudgy duffer to statesman. ‘Let’s remember that Chinese tourists love our mighty Murray. Their enthusiasm for the district means jobs not only in hospitality but in local agriculture, horticulture and viniculture. They’re a multi-million-dollar industry that pours much-needed funds into our region.’
He spread out his arms. ‘We’ve got wide open spaces, magnificent night skies and no pollution. These are things Asia can only dream about. Ainslea Park now offers glamping so the visitors can ride, enjoy damper and billy tea and sleep under the stars. Boolanga River Boats have invested in a five-star restoration of a paddle steamer to take thirty guests into less-travelled parts of the river so they can see the wildlife and enjoy sunrises and sunsets. But there’s so much more we can do. For our children’s future, we must develop new and innovative ways to engage tourists before they’re tempted to leave Boolanga, and cross the bridge to spend their money at the resort. The shire’s keen to work with local businesses to explore ways of maximising these opportunities.’
‘When you say wide open spaces, are you talking about selling Riverfarm?’ Jade yelled, ducking slightly behind a tall man in front of her.
The mayor squinted into the sun. ‘Not specifically.’
‘But you’re talking about a resort?’
‘Not specifically.’
‘What about social housing?’
‘What about a community pool?’ someone called out.
‘Not specifically.’
‘God, are they the only two words he knows,’ a woman in front of Jade said to her husband. ‘Next it’ll be jobs and growth.’
The mayor mopped his forehead with a hankie. ‘There are no specific plans for Riverfarm. But that said, it seems a shame for the community not to benefit more from its use. I encourage you to formally submit your suggestions for consideration.’
‘Like that hasn’t been happening for years and they’ve ignored every one of them,’ a man grumbled behind Jade.
‘So just to clarify “not specifically”,’ Jade called out. ‘You may or may not have some non-specific, vague and inexact plans to lease or sell Riverfarm to a casino for the Chinese?’
There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd and heads whipped round to see who’d spoken.
The mayor leaned forward, bringing his hand up to act as a sun visor, and knocked over the microphone stand. Reverberations screeched through the speakers as it hit the stage. People pressed their hands to their ears. The mayor reached for the stand, but Vivian got to it first.
‘If anyone in my ward has specific or non-specific concerns about Riverfarm or anything else for that matter, my office is always open.’
‘As are all the councillors’ offices,’ the mayor said testily. ‘As elected officials, we’re here to serve.’
‘Indeed we are,’ Vivian said smoothly, looking cool and calm while the mayor was tugging at his collar.
‘Go, Vivian,’ Jade muttered. The woman would more than fill Geoff Rayson’s size eleven elastic-sided boots.
‘And now it’s time to draw the raffle, isn’t it, Mr Mayor?’
‘Thank you for the reminder, Deputy Mayor.’
Only Geoff Rayson looked far from thankful—thunderous would be more apt. But Vivian snatching a PR win and showing him up was the least of his worries. Helen and Bob had information that could, and hopefully would, take him and half the councillors down.
Jade’s phone beeped and she checked it, hoping it was Lachlan.
It was Macca. Thought I should help a mate out and check in on you
The thoughtful text surprised her. All good, she replied.
Yeah? Corey’s worried about you
A traitorous warm feeling rolled through her, quieting the question of if he was worried, why didn’t he call or text himself? She typed That’s nice and hit send.
He reckons you must be gagging for it by now. I told him I’d help a slut out
Her lunch lurched to the back of her throat. She swung around but couldn’t see him. Hating that her fingers shook, she managed Fuck you
That’s the plan
Her heart galloped and her phone beeped again. She almost didn’t look. When Bob’s name rolled across the screen she almost cried with relief.
Helen here. Not to be specific or anything but you were awesome.
Another text followed. What about journalism? #uniplans
Jade rolled her eyes, wishing she’d never taught Helen about hashtags.
Just posted a video of the mayor making a monkey of himself on Facebook #askyourcouncilloraboutRiverfarm going off!
Bob here. Just wrestled my phone off Helen. Come to tent. Am driving you and Helen home.
Jade had been grumbling all week about Bob’s insistence on driving her everywhere when there’d only been one sighting of the ute all week. But with Macca’s texts burning through her brain, she didn’t want to be home alone this afternoon. She didn’t want to be home alone ever again.
CHAPTER
36
After Tara’s conversation with Al, she held her breath waiting for the cricket guillotine to fall. Should she have done what Al asked? Ripped off the metaphorical band-aid and got the job over and done with? Instead, she slept poorly, woke up tired, irritable and stressed, and spent the day stuck close to Jon.
‘For God’s sake,
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