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

sponsor the Boolanga Community Garden. The garden logo can be there too. If that’s something you can live with, we’ll happily fill your basic needs list and give you a shed.’

Helen stared at her, silently blinking behind her glasses.

‘If you want, I’ll send you the artwork so you can discuss it with your members?’ Tara added.

‘No. I mean, not no … I don’t need to discuss it. I … I never imagined … We’re just so grateful!’ Helen threw her arms around Tara.

For a moment Tara stiffened, uncomfortable by the unexpected display of emotion, and then grief rushed in so unexpectedly, her knees sagged. It was exactly the sort of hug her mother would have given her and she found herself returning it just so she could remember.

‘It’s our pleasure,’ she said. ‘But just so you know, we get samples that our staff use in the garden section so most of the stock will be pre-loved but still in good condition.’

‘We’ll happily accept whatever you can spare.’

‘What’s your email and phone number?’ Tara typed in the details. ‘I’ll pull the order together then give you a call to set up a delivery time.’

‘And then I’ll call you to arrange a time when you can come to the garden so we can thank you properly.’

The thought of losing half a morning standing around making polite conversation with a group of old women she didn’t know when she could be training didn’t appeal in the slightest. ‘That’s really not necessary.’

‘Oh, but it is. Please allow us the opportunity to show our appreciation.’

There was a hint of rebuke in Helen’s tone and Tara got another flash of her mother. It’s not always about how you feel, Tara.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said.

Except the only thing she was looking forward to was meeting with Zac and planning her marathon preparation. She sent out a wish that the community garden members would be so excited about their new equipment they’d forget all about hosting a morning tea.

CHAPTER

9

The gardening gloves had been taunting Jade for days. It didn’t matter where she put them in the unit, they reappeared, their dirty leather, clumped wool and tatty red edging accusing her of theft. She hadn’t stolen them—not deliberately anyway. She’d forgotten she’d dumped them on top of the pram and when she’d pushed back the cover they’d become hidden in the folds.

When she’d found them the next morning, her guts had gone all wobbly. She’d pushed Milo to the farmers’ market just so she could return the gloves to Helen, but when she’d got there, the only person at the community garden stall was an old bloke in a hat who actually looked like a farmer. As she couldn’t afford to buy anything, she’d walked home.

That afternoon, Milo had spiked a temperature and Jade had been stuck inside for four days holding a screaming baby. Corey must be out of mobile range because he hadn’t replied to any of her texts. She’d almost lost her mind. She’d definitely cried.

Thankfully, Milo had woken up happy this morning and without a fever, so she’d bundled him into the pram and escaped. Now, she and Milo were peering through the decorative gates of the community garden looking for Helen.

An old biddy stared back, her mouth doing that thin-line thing Jade was used to from the receptionist at the medical centre and the bitch at the supermarket checkout. The look that said useless bludger teenage single mother.

‘Yes? Can I help you?’ the woman finally said.

‘Is Helen here?’

The woman’s mouth puckered so tightly it almost disappeared. ‘No.’

‘Do you know when she’s coming?’

‘I do not.’

The bloody gardening gloves were harder to return than a boomerang. Jade wondered how many more times she’d have to walk the one-and-a-half kilometres to the garden on the off-chance Helen was here. She was tempted to just give the gloves to the woman so she was free of them, but that lemon-sucking mouth did nothing to reassure her. The witch would probably throw the gloves in the bin instead of giving them to Helen and she’d be blamed for stealing.

Jade wasn’t a thief—when she stole, it was only necessities like tampons and baby food and only when she had no other choice. She shouldn’t care, but for some reason she didn’t want Helen thinking she’d nicked these half-dead gloves.

‘Try the cottage,’ the woman said before turning and walking down the garden.

‘What cottage?’

The woman’s arm extended in the general direction of the river.

‘Useful,’ Jade muttered.

She passed the orchard where she’d eaten lunch with the refugee women and kept walking until she reached a rusty gate. It had beautiful metal swirls and curls at the top and Jade pictured how elegant and lah-de-dah it would have been back in the day.

‘Jade!’

She turned and saw Aima, Kubra and Baseera walking towards her carrying boxes and enviro bags. They smiled at her as if they were genuinely pleased to see her. ‘Hi,’ she said.

They clucked and cooed at Milo who squealed in delight.

‘Nice day to garden,’ Kubra said shyly.

‘I didn’t come to garden. I have to give Helen back her gloves.’

‘She is at meeting but comes later.’

Jade knew instinctively that if she left the gloves with these women, they’d return them to Helen and she’d be free to get on with her day. She needed to do a load of laundry at the laundromat and after days stuck on the couch holding Milo, the unit cried out for a clean. But still she hesitated, not quite able to part with the gloves.

Kubra was trying to balance her box of plants on the gate post and deal with the chain. Jade caught the box just as it slid off the post.

‘Do you need some help planting these?’

After planting two square metres of chives in rows—it turned out the women were neat freaks so she’d really needed to concentrate to keep the plants straight—Jade enjoyed her first cup of chai and something they called naan. It was sort of like