Losing Ground Read Free Page A

downplaying anything in the nature of good news. Since the others there knew only too well of Selby’s infinite capacity to cast a decided blight on any proceedings involving money, the downside of what he had to say was accordingly discounted by them all.
    ‘So the finance for the Tolmie Park development project is now at an important juncture…’ Selby was saying, tapping the notes on the table in front of him for greater emphasis, when he was interrupted by the arrival of Lionel Perry, Chairman and Managing Director of Berebury Homes, Ltd.
    ‘Sorry to be late, everybody,’ Perry said breezily, slipping into the empty chair at the top of the table. Hung on the wall behind him was a photograph of Mont Blanc, the Swiss mountain. ‘Puncture. Haven’t had one for ages. Do carry on Robert. You were saying something about Tolmie Park, I think…’
    ‘Yes, Lionel,’ lumbered on Robert Selby ponderously, ‘I was just about to point out that the development there is only going to come right financially if we get planning permission for the whole area from the word go to do it our way.’ He looked round at them all. ‘I hope that you all realise that. Otherwise…’
    ‘I’m sure they do,’ said Lionel Perry. He glanced round with a quick complicit smile at all the others. ‘That’s very important.’
    ‘And getting planning permission itself costs a lot as well,’ continued Robert Selby, his pencil still beating a steady tattoo on the outside of his file. Like the chairman, he was dressed in a sober business suit. On the wall behind him was a photograph of the Jungfrau.
    ‘Bean counter,’ whispered Derek Hitchin, their project manager.
    Selby, who hadn’t heard him, carried on. ‘I’ve got my people working on some additional figures now but as you know Section 106 agreements are no help to man nor beast.’
    ‘Would someone please have the goodness to explain to me what a Section 106 agreement is?’ Auriole Allen was the only woman present at the meeting and didn’t pretend to be knowledgeable about building development, only about advertising and public relations. The photograph behind her chair was of the Silberhorn bathed in the evening Alpenglow.
    ‘Legally binding agreements between local authorities and developers and landowners,’ spelt out Robert Selby.
    She looked bewildered. ‘But we own the land at Tolmie and we’re also the developers of it, aren’t we?’
    ‘Too right, we are,’ said Selby sourly. ‘That means it’s just us and them.’
    ‘I don’t think any of us need any reminding of the initial costs, Robert,’ intervened Perry, effortlessly resuming the lead. ‘It’s not new. It happens every time we start talking about a major development project like this.’
    He might not have spoken, so quickly did Selby go back to his theme. ‘And quite apart from the application charges, Lionel, there’s what Berebury Council are going to sting us for in the way of all the new roads they’ll want putting in,’ he persisted. ‘Let alone roundabouts.’
    ‘Require us to put in, you mean,’ said Derek Hitchin, giving a little snort. He was a short peppery man and the mud-spattered donkey-jacket he affected was as much a statement as what he was saying. The photograph on the wall behind his chair was as craggy as his personality: the north face of the Eiger. ‘At least they’re not charging us for planning gain any more.’
    ‘But you all know that roundabouts cost a bomb, too,’ said Robert Selby, reasserting his role as the finance man. ‘You’re talking big money there.’
    ‘They’ll want one of those where our land meets the road to the village.’ Derek Hitchin banged the pile of papers on the table in front of him and said sharply, ‘Bound to. We all know that the existing entrance won’t do, coming out on a blind corner like it does. May I point out, too, Lionel, that straightforward outline planning permission is not the only thing that this Tolmie Park