A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (inspirational books for students .txt) 📗

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Helen said. ‘Do you need a parade?’

Jade poked out her tongue. ‘A trophy will do.’

‘In that case, I’ll frame Mrs Kastrati’s email and highlight sharpshooting, insightful and worthy of publication.’

‘What about almond croissants?’ Bob put a platter of the buttery treats on the table along with a coffee pot.

‘You should start investigating uni courses for next year,’ Helen said, excitement skittering at the prospect of helping Jade choose. ‘I could—’

‘I need a job, not a useless degree.’

‘You need a degree to get a secure and well-paying job so you can provide for Milo.’

Jade’s eyes flashed. ‘And that worked out so well for you.’

The shot hit and stung like venom, despite Helen telling herself that Jade was only lashing out because she hated being told what to do.

‘That’s more to do with age than education,’ she said. ‘You’re young. At least university offers you a place where you can argue to your heart’s content.’

Jade stood abruptly and shoved the plate of croissants at Helen. ‘Sorry. I know you’re trying to help.’

Bob squeezed Jade’s shoulder. ‘How about we talk about careers after we’ve looked for a pot of money?’

‘I guess.’ Jade, who was never demonstrative, suddenly flung her arms around Bob and hugged him. ‘Thanks.’

Bob threw Helen a surprised but gratified look over Jade’s shoulder. Of course he was happy about a public display of affection. He was an old softie.

She rubbed at an odd empty feeling under her sternum, not certain if it was because she missed being touched or because Jade was more comfortable around Bob than she was.

She pulled the lid off a marker and wrote Andrew Tucker in the middle of the butcher’s paper, then scrawled all the councillors’ names around the edges. ‘We know about the events Tucker’s been to. We need to know what he’s offering and to which councillors.’

‘He might not be offering them anything,’ Bob said, playing his usual role as the voice of reason or devil’s advocate. Helen was never exactly sure.

‘Going on past history, the role of “property developer” is up there with snake-oil salesman, insurance companies and used-car dealers,’ she said.

‘True, but Tucker’s hardly going to turn up in Boolanga with a suitcase of money,’ Lachlan said.

Helen snorted. ‘A Chinese businessman flew into Melbourne with eight hundred thousand dollars in a bag.’

Lachlan’s jaw fell open. ‘Wow. Okay. I don’t get out of Boolanga enough. Do we know if any of the other councillors, besides the mayor, have been splashing money about?’

‘To be fair, you wouldn’t notice with Craig Dangerfield,’ Bob said. ‘Old money.’

‘Even so, the market’s been down and he bought a Tesla,’ Lachlan said. ‘That’s a triple-figure chunk of change.’

‘Craig’s always been a sucker for cars—he’s got a shed full of them. And he probably didn’t buy it, but leased it.’

‘Nothing’s coming up on any of them other than the events they’ve attended or what they’ve said at council,’ Jade said.

‘The internet’s good but local gossip’s better,’ Bob said.

‘Good. I was starting to wonder if you were on our side,’ Helen said.

‘Of course he’s on our side,’ Jade said stoutly. ‘It’s just you’re not very good at recognising it.’

Helen opened her mouth to object, but Jade added ruefully, ‘Neither am I.’

Sometimes Jade’s observations astonished her. ‘There might be a certain truth to that.’

Bob laughed. ‘I was in Stevenson’s Electrical the other day asking about sound bars. Brent mentioned that Don DeLuca’s installed a home theatre with surround sound and wired the entire house for music in every room. Apparently those Bose speakers don’t come cheap.’

‘Where’d dodgy Don get the money for that?’ Helen wrote home theatre under DeLuca’s name.

‘I also got chatting with Erica at Boolanga Travel,’ Bob said. ‘Told her I wanted to get away from it all and really treat myself. She recommended an exclusive island in Indonesia at seven hundred dollars a night that came highly recommended by Birdie Rehn. By all accounts, being a councillor’s very stressful and Aki needed to get away and switch off.’

‘Seven hundred dollars a night? Fa—far out! That’s what I live on for a month,’ Jade said. ‘We have to nail these pricks.’

‘Steady, Jade.’ Bob’s tone was mild. ‘Remember, it’s not a red flag unless we can prove this holiday was something out of the ordinary for the Rehns.’

While Jade typed furiously, her eyes darting across the screen, Lachlan said, ‘Aki was in the Boolanga Bards’ production of Mamma Mia. He teaches drama at the high school.’

‘And his wife works two days a week in a gift shop,’ Jade said. ‘There’s a photo of their kids playing in the waterpark at the All Seasons Holiday Park in Mildura earlier in the year.’

‘How on earth did you find that out so quickly?’ Helen asked.

Jade grinned. ‘Birdie’s not up to speed with her Facebook privacy settings.’

‘What about the other councillors?’ Lachlan asked. ‘Pretty sure Mum mentioned Messina bought an apartment in Docklands for Greta to live in now she’s at RMIT.’

‘Messina’s daughter and her two flatmates are paying rent, which covers the mortgage,’ Helen said.

‘Isn’t Vivian renovating?’ Bob asked.

‘Yes, but unlike the Rehns’ holiday, it’s not an out-of-the-blue thing. She’s been talking about those Italian glass tiles for two years.’

‘What about Cynthia?’

Helen shrugged. ‘She’s quiet. She got onto council with a platform of motherhood statements. She tends to be more of a follower, which is fine by me because she’s supportive.’

‘It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch,’ Lachlan said. ‘She has to declare who donated to her campaign, doesn’t she? We should look at it and see who really got her elected.’

‘Assuming she declared it,’ Jade said. ‘Politicians are always getting exposed for conveniently forgetting that a crime boss came to their fundraising dinner and ate lobster.’

Milo, who’d been content throwing toys over the side of the playpen, suddenly squawked. Daisy barked and picked up a toy in her mouth.

Lachlan stood and scooped up Milo, who was waving his arms. ‘Jailbreak time is it, squirt?’

‘I doubt Cynthia’s a Tucker plant,’ Helen said firmly.

‘Do you want me to