“So not many of the current residents will be buying those?”
Spencer looked irritated for a second and then smiled faintly.
“The indefatigable Joyce has been briefing you, has she? No, as I said, this is intended to be a mixed development.” He ran his finger across the map again. “Private housing here at the east side, overlooking the town. Quite a valuable proposition, that. And public housing further back to the west.”
“And the rest belongs to the counciclass="underline" houses, school, health centre and so on?”
“No, not exactly. We lease what we want back from the developers and they maintain the facilities for us. For thirty years in the first instance. It’s a way of getting private investment into public facilities. Brilliantly simple really. It’s definitely the way ahead.”
“But your business partners will do very well out of it, won’t they? They get to do the building for you, sell the private housing, lease back the social housing and community stuff to the council - they can’t lose, can they? But do you actually save public money in the long run? Is it cheaper?”
“In the short term, yes, much cheaper,” Spencer said.
“But not long term?” Laura persisted.
Spencer did not answer. If I can find a tame accountant, Laura thought, I’ll work out just what this does cost in the end.
“Who are these partners exactly?” Laura asked.
“That’s not for public consumption yet,” Spencer said. “It’ll be a consortium. There’s a couple of groups interested. City Ventures is one. Blackstock Holdings another. But there may be more by the time it goes out to tender.”
“Local businesses?”
“Oh, yes, some of them. It all boosts the local economy, one way or another.”
“So there’ll be an open competition for the contract?”
“Probably,” Spencer said. “We may have a favoured bidder, but that’s all in the future.”
“And what about the project that the women are running up there for the school drop-outs, the one my grandmother was so anxious about? That will be housed in the new college facilities, will it? Or in the community centre?”
Spencer glanced at Jay, who looked disconcerted.
“I’m not sure any provision has been made for that sort of facility, although Mr. Foreman did say that he would be interested in helping with facilities for young people in difficulties,” she said. “Of course, with the new executive housing on the Heights we’re hoping that a lot of the problems they have currently up there will be …” She hesitated.
“Dispersed,” Spencer said cheerfully. “That’s the word Jay’s looking for. One of the difficulties we have currently up at Wuthering, as you must know, is the sheer concentration of problem families and difficult kids. They’ll undoubtedly be dispersed by this new development. And a very good thing too. It’ll be much easier for the schools and other agencies to deal with these kids if they are not concentrated in one place, and in one or two schools.”
“But much harder for the parents to organise self-help schemes like the Project,” Laura said. “And where exactly will they be dispersed to? They’ll get nice new houses somewhere else, will they? Or not?”
“Well, we have no other major redevelopment schemes in the pipeline so I expect most will move onto older properties elsewhere. That’s inevitable, really,” Spencer said. “We’ve no shortage of vacant properties which are in better condition than the flats up at Wuthering. So everyone gains.”
“I thought most of your vacant properties were vandalised and impossible to sell,” Laura said, feeling almost as outraged by Spencer’s plans as she knew Joyce would be when she heard the details.
“Not at all,” Spencer said. “In any case, any property people move to will be made fit before they move in. We’ll have the funds for that too, when the land on the Heights is sold to the developers.”
“Not really much in this for those who have to move though, is there? The community broken up, lots of people moved out to areas they may not want to go to? Won’t this be a difficult scheme to sell to the people on the Heights, Councillor Spencer?”
“Oh, I think we’ll manage, Laura,” Spencer said easily. “I don’t really anticipate any difficulties. The crucial decisions will be taken by the planning committee once the regeneration committee has drawn up its final plans and has costed the whole project.”
So I guess that’s all sewn up already, Laura thought.
“Well, it’s certainly an interesting scheme,” she said.
“Well, I know your editor thinks so. You know we’ve asked him to sit on the regeneration committee, don’t you. We’re sure his input will be extremely valuable.”
Laura nodded weakly, not willing to admit to knowledge that she was not supposed to have.
“Terrific,” she said.
“Call me if you have any more questions when you come to write your feature,” Jay said, passing a wad of glossy brochures across the table to Laura. “This is what we’ve prepared so far.”
Laura glanced at the sketches of town houses set amidst trees and neatly parked BMWs which appeared on the front of the publicity material and thought of the fate of cars currently left parked for more than half an hour on the Heights. She smiled sweetly, green eyes opaque as she caught Spencer’s gaze.
“Fine,” she said. “And when does your consultation begin?”
“After the next meeting of the committee,” Spencer said. “Ted indicated that he would use your feature the day after that.”
“And there was I thinking we were an independent newspaper,” Laura said stabbing off her tape-recorder with an angry jab. Dave Spencer’s expression hardened for a second and then he smiled, without warmth.
“I’m sure no one is going to compromise your independence, Laura,” he said. “You’re a chip off the old block.”
“I’ll get my grandmother to contact you again about funding for the Project, then, shall I? I don’t think she’s had an answer on that yet.”
“Of course,” Spencer said. “We’ll see what we can do about that. Perhaps Barry Foreman would come to the rescue with a bit of persuasion. You never know.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite what she had in mind,” Laura said.
“No, I’m sure it isn’t,” Spencer said, distinctly waspish this time. “But even the dinosaur tendency is going to have to shift its arse in the end, you know. Perhaps you could tell her that before she comes badgering me again?”
“D’you fancy lunch?” Laura asked when she was back at her desk and finally got through to Michael Thackeray. There was a long enough silence at the other end of the line to cause her heart to sink.
“Michael,” she said softly.
“The Warp and Weft in half-an-hour,” he said at last, naming a pub where they were unlikely to meet any of his colleagues or hers. He was already sitting at a corner table when she arrived, surrounded by an array of old wool mill relics, now collectors items rather than anything with much bearing on Bradfield’s economy. He had a glass of tonic and ice in front of him and a similar glass which Laura hoped contained vodka as well as tonic on the opposite side of the table. Laura slipped off her coat and dumped it on an empty chair and leaned across the table to kiss his cheek.
“I’ve been confining my inquiries to the town hall this morning,” she said. “Am I forgiven?”
“Of course you are,” he said, wondering whether there were any circumstances in which he would not forgive this woman who still sent his heart lurching, and other men’s heads turning, when she walked into a room, copper hair flying and eyes sparkling. “But you mustn’t expect me not to worry if you take risks.”
“I know,” she said, her expression sober. “Anyway, I’m into the murky waters of local politics this morning. Physically safer but not that much cleaner, I suspect. Did you know that they’re going to pull down the flats up at Wuthering and turf most of the residents out. They’ll have to make do with surplus accommodation no one else wants while yuppies move in up the hill. They’re even planning to pull the old folks’ bungalows down. Joyce will go bananas when she hears.”