A Home Like Ours by FIONA LOWE

Author:FIONA LOWE [Lowe, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FIONA LOWE

Chapter Twenty-Three

Helen was trying her best to get on with her day, but her concentration strayed on every task. The word eviction beat in her veins like the call of a drum.

She waved to Fran at the library desk before logging on to computer three and checking the Facebook page. There were another two hundred likes and lots of comments about the importance of transparency in local government.

Keep the bastards honest!

Community land belongs to the community.

Councilors don’t give a sh*t about anyone. They’re only in it for themselves.

Riverfarm was stolen. It’s Yorta Yorta land.

No Chinese.

Keep Australia Australian. Send the buggers back!

Helen rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to fend off a headache. Why did people go off on tangents? She deleted the racist comments and started a post to keep the followers focused.

Boolanga has a long history of caring for all of its community.

Her fingers stalled. The Yorta Yorta would dispute that. So would some of the refugees. She pressed the backspace button and started again.

Having a home is a basic human right, but each night in Boolanga up to twenty people sleep rough, many of them women. Are you shocked? You should be.

Anxiety hovered—she might soon be adding to the statistics. She tried to banish it by concentrating on uploading photos of the river, the garden and a picture of a similar housing project on the New South Wales central coast. She hit post, logged out and turned her attention to The Standard.

African youths strike again. No longer content with graffiti, they’ve turned their attention to destroying the pride and joy of Boolanga’s seniors: their garden plots. Judith Sainsbury, president of the community garden, said, “How dare they come to Boolanga and terrorize our way of life. The garden has always been a safe haven and now it’s been desecrated. We no longer feel safe in our beds.”

Helen’s temples throbbed so hard she thought she’d burst a blood vessel. Judith had actively worked against the women’s garden but now, when it suited her racist rhetoric, she was claiming it as part of the community garden.

She forced herself to keep reading.

Police are interviewing the usual suspects. Charges are yet to be filed.

Of course they were yet to be filed! Corey had disappeared, and for all the talk in town about an African gang on the loose, the police didn’t seem able to make any charges stick.

Helen’s anger at the police’s insistence on talking to Amal still simmered. Of course the boy had denied all knowledge of the incident—he had a cast-iron alibi. Although his manner had been respectful during the interview, the burn in his eyes and the jut of his jaw showed his outrage. Helen couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been summoned to the police station.

When she’d mentioned racial profiling to Sergeant North, he’d pointed out the two Anglo kids waiting to be questioned. As Jade had greeted them by name when she’d arrived at the station, Helen assumed they were from Serenity Street.

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