A Home Like Ours Fiona Lowe (good novels to read .txt) 📖

beetroots looked royal, and pleasure streamed through her at the way bunches of tapered orange carrots contrasted with their fluttery fine green leaves. Jade had never considered vegetables pretty before—that was the job of flowers—except right now she could imagine a glossy wooden table with vegetables as the centrepiece.

She slammed the hatch shut and pushed the barrow down the garden, glancing through the fence as she went. The women now sat cross-legged in the orchard, eating food out of plastic containers. Helen was with them, looking like she sat on the ground like that every day of the week.

Jade’s stomach rumbled and she wished she’d thought to pack herself a snack. She wouldn’t mind taking smoko either except she needed to work while Milo slept. But first she needed to pee. Tentatively, she slid open the lock on the portaloo, bracing herself for the stench, but instead of a fetid odour, the fresh smell of antiseptic wafted out to greet her.

When she’d finished, she stepped back outside and took a moment to listen for Milo. No crying, but she looked towards the tree anyway. She couldn’t see his pram, only three of the boat people. Her heart leaped, banging frantically against her chest, and then her legs were moving and she was sprinting the length of the garden.

‘Hey!’ The women turned and Jade saw Milo snuggled into one of them. ‘What are you doing? Give him to me! Get away!’

‘He crying,’ the woman said, handing Milo to her.

‘So? You’ve got no right to touch him.’

‘Sorry.’ Her head dipped for a moment before rising. ‘You want him cry?’

‘No!’

‘I only hold him because you busy.’ She inclined her head to the portaloo.

Jade hugged Milo tightly, not only to reassure herself he was safe but to still the adrenaline-induced jitters.

Her son’s tear-stained face broke into a smile and he shot out a chubby hand, closing his fist around another woman’s headscarf. She made a cooing sound and said something to him Jade didn’t understand. Milo laughed.

‘He is beautiful baby.’ The woman who’d picked up Milo tickled him under his chin. ‘You very lucky.’

Jade stared at her. Since getting pregnant and having Milo she’d been told she was stupid, crazy, a slut, a disappointment, that she was throwing her life away, being unfair to Milo and too young to ever be a good mother. Not once had anyone said she was lucky.

She tried to think of something to say, but could only manage, ‘Yeah.’

‘I am Aima.’

‘A-mah?’ Jade repeated, trying the hard A. The woman nodded, smiling shyly. ‘I’m Jade. This is Milo.’

‘Yummy like the drink.’

‘You drink Milo?’ Jade couldn’t believe Aima knew it.

She shrugged. ‘I like chai. My son drinks Milo.’ She pointed to the orchard. ‘You bring food?’ Jade shook her head. ‘Come. Eat ours.’

Jade hesitated. Did she really want to join them? What if their food was weird? Aima looked a bit Asian and she’d read somewhere they ate insects. But if Aima gave her kids Milo, maybe some of their food would be Aussie.

While Aima’s friend played clap hands with a shrieking and laughing Milo, a tug of war played out inside Jade. Her wariness about the women’s foreignness and her suspicions that they’d been talking and laughing about her pulled against their obvious delight in her son—a delight that matched her own. There were few people who shared that. Should she risk it? What was the worst thing that could happen? The food would be gross? They’d talk in their own language and she’d feel as ignored and out of place as she did pretty much everywhere in this stinking town? That Helen would tell her she needed to keep working? It wasn’t like any of those scenarios were new, so whichever way it went down, she could deal.

Decision made, she picked up her backpack. ‘Let’s go.’

CHAPTER

7

Helen was glad yoga gave her the flexibility to sit cross-legged on the ground with the women. They’d arrived this morning directly from school drop-off and had worked like Trojans, weeding and digging. The first bed was turned over and Helen had completed the soil test. After lunch, they’d fork in the compost. Helen was donating the contents of her bin as well as the Liparis’ to kickstart the project, but the women would need to start their own compost. The committee would insist on a bin rather than a bay and she wondered if they could afford to buy one. The beds also needed sleepers to bring them in line with the plots in the main garden, but again that took money.

Helen glanced at Jade who was refusing the food Aima was offering her. Why had the girl bothered to join them if she was going to be rude? Irritation jabbed at her.

‘At least try a bolani,’ she said. ‘They’re a bit like a pasty.’

‘I can make up my own mind, thank you.’

‘I don’t doubt that,’ Helen muttered under her breath. Honestly, the girl was so full of spikes and prickles it was impossible to have a conversation. ‘How did you get on with the vegetables?’

‘We’re best friends.’ But this time the sardonic tone was accompanied by a wry smile that hinted at a sense of humour.

Helen laughed. ‘Did you get much done before the baby woke up?’

‘It’s all done except the cabbages.’

‘Really?’ Helen’s surprise slipped out before she could stop it.

Jade scowled. ‘What? Did you think I couldn’t do it?’

‘I think you’re a lot faster than me. Thank you.’

Jade’s mouth worked as if she was masticating the compliment, unsure if it tasted sweet or sour. ‘I’ve kept two bunches of carrots, and a dozen spuds. Oh, and I found a pumpkin and I’m keeping it to make soup.’ The tilt of her chin said, just try to stop me.

‘Good for you. Would you like some fresh herbs too?’

‘Do you have garlic and sage?’

‘Done.’

Jade didn’t thank her but reached instead for a bolani and raised it tentatively to her mouth. Her face wrinkled in trepidation while her free hand clutched