A Home Like Ours Fiona Lowe (good novels to read .txt) đ
- Author: Fiona Lowe
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How had these strangers even got her email address? The shire had strict privacy rules about sharing information, and the only other people who had her email address were Con and the members of the garden. None of them had any reason to give out her details.
Judith and Sharon do.
Did they hate the refugee women so much it prevented them from seeing the bigger picture?
Helenâs phone rang and Vivianâs voice echoed down the line, sounding like she was speaking underwater. âGreat letter in the paper again this week, Helen.â
âThanks, but not everyoneâs in favour.â
âYou mean the five letters against that Granski printed? Remember I warned you that would happen.â
âIâve received some negative emails about the tiny houses. People can be pretty blunt.â
âTell me about it. Donât let a few morons get you down. Iâve been in local politics for a decade and if itâs taught me anything, itâs the need to focus on the positives. Your point of viewâs getting airplay and thatâs what we need.â
It was true. Despite the letters from Bob, Lachlan and RoxyâCinta, Tracey, Agape and Sue hadnât wanted to writeâthe paper had only printed Helenâs. The comment Jade wrote on The Standardâs Facebook page had been referenced in the print edition of Saturdayâs paper, but it was buried in a forest of negative comments.
Helen was glad Jade had set up a Facebook account for her, even if the process had been fraught with much sighing and arguing from them both. She was still embarrassed that Fran at the library had suggested next time they should book a meeting room if they were going to âengage in robust discussionâ.
âRobust discussion?â Jade had looked blank. âWeâre having a fight.â
Fran smiled. âNo, youâre disagreeing and debating your points of view. Itâs only a fight if you put each other down. Why donât you combine your opinions and make a banner you both like using Canva?â
Helen had watched, genuinely impressed, as Jade took the artistâs impression of the village from Helenâs submission, then chose a photo of lush green spring vegetables in the garden, and used them to create the perfect banner for the Boolanga Needs A Sustainable Tiny Housing Village page. It was slowly gaining likes and Helen had posted the emails sheâd written to The Standard on the page too.
She was about to tell Vivian about the Facebook page when the deputy mayor said, âWhat did you think about the mayorâs press release on Riverfarm?â
âFull of mixed messages. If he wanted to put out The Standardâs fire, it didnât work.â
âExactly. Iâm wondering if he wants to put it out. Since he bought Ainslea Park, heâs changed.â
âWhat do you mean?â
There was a brief silence as if Vivian was struggling to put her feelings into words. âGeoff was always keen to hear both sides of the story, but latelyââ
This time the silence was different. âYou still there, Vivian?â
âYes, sorry. Iâm on Chinamanâs Creek Road. The receptionâs a bit hit-and-miss.â
âI didnât hear anything after âbut latelyâ.â
âIâm starting to wonder if Geoffâs more interested in the prestige and business opportunities being mayor offers him rather than the public service aspect.â
âDo you think he leaked the tiny houses submission to The Standard?â
âMaybe ⊠Iâd like ⊠think that ⊠want ⊠staffer ⊠Granski.â
âWhat? Youâre breaking up.â
âSorââ The call died.
âDamn it!â Helen pressed the faded red button on her phone, then rubbed the spot under her sternum that burned each time she thought about the projectâs future. A few weeks earlier theyâd been so confident. Damn Geoff Rayson for doing a backflip.
Prestige and business opportunities? She recalled Vivianâs comment the day The Standard leaked the submissionâsomething about wealthy international horse-racing people. Today was the second time Vivian had implied Geoff was putting his own business interests ahead of the shire. It was time to do some digging.
Helen walked to the library and did an internet search. Vivian was correctâit was public knowledge that a sheik from the UAE had visited Ainslea Park.
She logged into her Facebook account and brought up the page. Jade had told her that to âget tractionâ she needed to add a photo to each post. Fortunately, Jade had taken plenty of the garden and the adjacent land. Helen chose a photo of Sally Atkinsâs two old hacks grazingânot exactly racehorses but needs mustâand started typing.
Rumours are flying around Boolanga that the delegation from the UAE who visited Ainslea Park have their eyes on more than just horseflesh. Riverfarm has always been part of this community. Be far more concerned about foreign ownership than a community-based housing project.
She checked her spelling and punctuation and hit send.
Jade was on her way to the supermarket when her phone pinged. Corey! Hope and relief made her check it immediately. Her body cramped with disappointment. There was no text notification. No message saying Iâll be home on Miloâs birthday.
âI think Daddyâs planning a surprise,â she told Milo. But the words hung in the warm air like empty promises.
Her phone continued pinging and it took her a second to work out what was going on. The device had automatically connected to the libraryâs wifi when sheâd walked past and she was still in range.
She opened the Facebook app. Holy shit. There were five hundred likes on the tiny housing page sheâd set up for Helen. Yesterday when sheâd checked, thereâd been twenty-fiveâmostly friends of Bob and Lachlan. She scrolled down and saw Helen had posted something without her help. Pride shot through her that sheâd taught Helen how to do it.
There were heaps of comments on the post, but only three said they supported the housing project and they were from Lachlan, Bob and Fran at the library. The rest wrote about multinational companies and global cowboys raping Australia. There was a lot of swearing about overseas ownership of cultural icons and Jade thought theyâd all missed the point of the post. Then she noticed the post had been shared twenty times,
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