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

‘Jesus,’ Jon muttered.

The chatter ceased and several grey-haired heads swung in their direction. Some people sat, others stood. A couple of attendees had walkers parked by their chairs.

Should they leave, Tara wondered. But a woman was waving them over.

‘Welcome. I’m Jill and you must be Tara and Jon? Donna told us you were coming. Sign in and write yourselves a temporary name tag. Use big letters.’ She chuckled. ‘We want to be able to read it.’

‘Will do.’ Tara forced a smile and glanced at Jon. Since starting on the drugs, his Parkinson’s mask had faded, but right now, seeing his dark brows drawn down in a Flynn-esque scowl, she wished it back.

She wrote their names in large capitals, peeled off the backing and stuck Jon’s on his shirt, leaving her hand splayed on his chest. ‘It can’t be any worse than the bowling club concert Ian dragged us to,’ she joked, hoping for a smile.

‘Wanna bet.’

Jill insisted they sit in the middle of a row of chairs. As everyone looked at them, Tara felt like they were an exhibit at the zoo.

Jill read out some notices—there was a chair exercise group starting up on a Tuesday at ten in the morning; a show of hands was requested for interest in an outing to Morning Melodies; and Kas and Andy needed at least two people to play five-hundred on Wednesday afternoons. Tara wondered if they’d got the venue wrong and landed up at the Senior Citizens.

With each announcement, Jon’s tension ratcheted up until it threatened to push Tara off her chair. She rested her hand on his jiggling thigh.

‘Please welcome today’s guest: Sandra, from Leisure Assist in Melbourne,’ Jill finished, and took a seat.

There was a polite scattering of applause and Sandra, a woman in her fifties, clicked a laser pointer. The PowerPoint slide behind her declared Embracing the Journey.

‘It must feel like getting Parkinson’s is incredibly unfair, especially as you’ve worked hard all your lives,’ she began. ‘But this is your fork in the road. Your chance to take a positive from a negative. This is the time to reassess and prioritise.’

Photos of iconic travel destinations flashed up on the screen behind her.

‘Stop dreaming about that trip of a lifetime. Just do it! Imagine cruising the Pacific or taking a famous train journey. Follow the old camel train route on the Ghan between Adelaide and Darwin or the exotic romance of the Orient Express. Slow travel. No need to rush. It’s the perfect way to travel with Parkinson’s.’

Sandra outlined the many and varied holiday options her company offered, including destinations specifically tailored for the mobility-challenged and discounts for carers. ‘And if I haven’t convinced you yet, let’s hear from some of our satisfied customers.’

A video commenced, showing a group of happy people heading off on a bus trip; a small group being met at an airport by smiling staff before being transported to a gate lounge; an older couple kissing under the Eiffel Tower; and a man in his seventies using a cruise ship’s gymnasium.

The camera panned in. ‘I used to live to work,’ the man said. ‘Getting sick was the wake-up call I needed. Life was passing me by. This is my fourth trip with Leisure Assist. What I love about cruising is I can still exercise and the time-zone changes are slow. It makes it easier to juggle my medication.’

Three more testimonials followed with similar messages—retirement was the best thing since sliced bread. The final scene was a family group with an older couple holidaying with their children and grandchildren.

As brochures were handed out—all with Sandra’s business card neatly stapled to the front and her phone number highlighted in fluoro yellow—there was some general chatter about holidays.

The woman next to Tara said, ‘What do you think about that then?’

Tara didn’t know where to start.

‘And now for the exciting news,’ Sandra said. ‘We’re offering an all-expenses-paid round-the-world cruise for two in a wheelchair-friendly stateroom with transportation and assistance at every port. To be in the draw, all you have to do is register on our website.’

She thrust an iPad at Tara.

‘I don’t think this is really for us,’ Tara said.

‘Of course it is. Embrace the journey. Remember, life doesn’t stop for you to catch up.’

A bristle ran up Tara’s spine. ‘You don’t under—’

‘Embrace the journey?’ Jon’s voice boomed, silencing the room. ‘Sounds more like “You’re sick, suckers, let me take your hard-earned cash.” Does it look like we can retire? That we can take off for three-quarters of a year? Christ! We’ve got a business, a mortgage and two young kids to raise.’

Sandra’s mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish.

Making a scene in public, Tara, is the height of bad manners. As her mother’s words crashed into her, Tara momentarily considered smoothing the choppy seas they’d just created. But what was the point? Jon would never come back to this group and she didn’t blame him.

She stood and took his hand and they walked out of the hall together, letting the doors slam shut behind them.

‘So, that seemed to go pretty well,’ she said.

For the first time in a long time, Jon laughed. It was worth failing support group just to hear the sound.

‘Yeah, we’ll get a black mark for sure.’ He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. ‘I’m so bloody sick of driving to the hospital. I’m sick of medical appointments. Sick of being asked how I’m feeling. I just want to go home and be normal.’

Tara had no idea what normal was any more. Jon was gripping the car keys tightly and her sharpened awareness noticed the slight tremble. Was it Parkinson’s or was he just over-gripping the keys?

‘Let’s invite the gang over Friday night,’ he said. ‘They’re the only support group we need.’

Tara was torn. This was the first time since the diagnosis that he’d shown any interest in being social and she wanted to encourage it. But it wasn’t enough to stop agitation plucking at the strings of her