Page 10 of Hearts Colliding
“So why have you decided to stay here? Even if you want to be directly involved, you could do everything you need to from London. There’s no need for you to bury yourself in the back of beyond.” Brendan chewed glumly.
“Do I detect a hint of complaint at having to leave behind the joys of the city for a couple of days?” Alex raised his brows, watching as Brendan quickly swallowed down his food.
“No, but I don’t get—”
“This place was my home, growing up. Which makes it different to anything else I’ve worked on. I want to be here at the start, when things get moving.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Good.”
No, Brendan didn’t see, and as Alex concentrated on his dinner, he wasn’t sure he did either.
In the end, he hadn’t asked his PA to find him somewhere else. To have done so would have felt too much like backing down. The house would have won, and there was no way he could allow that. It made no sense, because nothing about his relationship with the New House made sense. Instead, he’d demanded an internet connection and a regular grocery delivery, because he was going to stick it out for as long as was needed. He had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to run away from. And besides, he always stayed close by when a big project was getting off the ground.
It was a habit he’d retained from when he’d started out in the industry. In the early days, to cut costs so as he could invest as much as he could in the developments, he’d stayed in tents and camper vans, and rickety old caravans. Then, somewhere like the New House would have been the height of luxury and comfort.
Alex went to the fridge and grabbed another beer for himself, the flagship brew of a hipster East London artisan brewery. Thank god for his PA — a full fridge and internet, all within twenty-four hours. He also retrieved the tonic water, and plonked it in front of Brendan, hiding his smirk when Brendan frowned and eyed Alex’s beer.Sorry, Bren, but you’re driving…
Brendan topped up his glass, getting the message Alex had no need to voice.
“This is a beautiful area and there’ll be a lot of opposition, once this is made public. You’ll have a fight on your hands.”
Alex snorted. “There’s always opposition, and there’s always a fight. You know that as well as I do.”
“Have you—” Brendan stopped, his gaze slipping away from Alex.
“Have I what?”
Brendan sighed, and put down his glass. “The scale of the development, it’ll change the face of the village. It’s a lovely place — and no, I don’t break out in hives if I’m forced beyond zone one on the underground, whatever you might think.
“I took a good look around before I got here. Idyllic, many would say. Don’t tell me you don’t know that. If your plans go through, you’ll effectively be bolting on another village. And this house, in case you haven’t noticed, is listed, which brings its own problems and constrictions. Do you really think you’ll get the proposal through the local planning department? Because in all honesty, I can’t see it.”
Alex pushed the remains of his dinner aside. He knew the issues, knew the roadblocks, but he also knew his business inside out, up side down and sideways.
“This isn’t my first listed development project, nor is it the first you’ve worked with me on. Everything that needs to be covered and boxed off, has been. Plus, all the surveys I’ve commissioned. Endless bloody surveys.” He counted them off on his fingers. “For badger setts, for bat colonies, for the wider environmental impact — you name the survey, it’s been done. I’ve been very, very meticulous. It won’t stop the planning department at the council demanding changes because it’s what they do. But the wind’s blowing in my favour.
“There’s a huge demand for more housing, even in somewhere as tucked away as this. All those government imposed new housing quotas the local authority has to meet? It’s a lot of pressure. My planning application will ease some of it.”
“Sure, and I get it, but councils want affordable homes for local people. For families. The conversion of the New House is aimed at wealthy retirees and investors, which doesn’t exactly fit with most local authority housing plans.”
“Brendan.” Alex’s voice dropped, quiet and colder than an Arctic wind. “The new builds we’ve worked on tick all the affordability boxes. But, if your social conscience has decided to make a rare appearance, and is troubling you, you’re free to withdraw from the project and direct your architectural talents towards something more worthy.”And walk away from the huge bonus you’ve been promised for getting all the plans completed and ready for submission in record time.
“No, I wouldn’t say that.” Brendan shifted in his seat, and Alex continued to stare, waiting for more. He didn’t have to wait long. “The house, I can understand. You don’t want to live here, so a sympathetic conversion into apartments makes sense, and there wouldn’t be much anybody could really object to, but—”
“But what?”
Brendan raised his hands, palms up in surrender. “It’s your project Alex. You’ve paid me, and paid me well, to come up with the architectural plans. What you do with them is up to you. Talking of which, shall we finish up going over those amendments?”
They worked until almost one in the morning, downing cup after cup of strong coffee, as they went over the conversion of the New House into luxury, high-end apartments.
Alex was wired, but it didn’t have much to do with the caffeine. He pushed his fingers through his hair, his nails scraping over his nervy scalp. The house would be transformed. Broken up and sold off piece by piece, the Love inheritance dismantled, disappearing forever from the face of the earth just as the Love name would.
Brendan yawned. “Would you mind if…”
Alex was already gathering up Brendan’s jacket. “I’ll speak to you again in a few days.”
Brendan nodded, grumbled his goodnights, and was gone moments later.
