Page 44 of Too Busy for Love

The only problem with these budding romances happening all around me is that they throw my own situation into sharp relief, and that inevitably turns my mind back to Jock. When I check my phone just before going to bed, I can see that he’s replied to my message.

They obviously caught Maria in the act then. Good.

I haven’t told Jock that I contacted DI Winter and shared what Maria had told us. As I climb into bed and turn off the light, I try to work out whether I should. In the end, I decide to leave it; it’s not important and, nice as it is to hear from him, I need to focus on the fact that my contract is coming to an end soon and start to make a plan about what to do next. It’s difficult though, and I find myself trying to picture him in his new role. Does he miss me the same way as I miss him, or does he see me purely as a friend who shared a bizarre week in London with him?

17

‘You have got to be bloody kidding me. What reason did they give?’ Abby says crossly into her phone.

I’m walking down to restock the pool bar and she’s lying on a sun lounger. I’m not at all surprised to see James stretched out on the lounger next to hers, his long limbs pale in the sunlight.

‘All is not well in the world of construction this morning,’ he offers quietly by way of explanation when he sees me.

‘No, it’s fine, Ella,’ Abby continues after a moment or two. ‘We’ll just have to go to plan B and see if we can change their minds that way. It’s not ideal, but we don’t really have any other choice. Yes, thanks for letting me know. All right, yeah. Bye.’

‘Bollocks,’ she says vehemently as she slams her phone down on the table.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing.’

‘Not really. Fucking Thanet Borough Council have turned down my planning permission application, which means Dad’s probably going to be on the phone to roast my arse any moment now.’

‘How come?’ James asks, propping himself up on one arm so he can look at her.

‘Dad’s business model is simple and he likes to stick to it. He buys patches of land that have planning permission but are too small for the big developers to bother with, and builds on them. It’s a good model, but I thought we were missing a trick.’

‘What kind of trick?’

‘Redevelopment. I’ve got nothing against new builds, but I reckon we’ve been missing out on a big opportunity. Look at all those warehouses in the east end of London, for example. Somebody bought them, probably for a song, converted them into flats and made a killing. I want a slice of that action.’

‘So you bought a warehouse?’ I ask.

‘They’re all gone now – the good ones, anyway. No, I found this shitty old hotel in Margate that was coming up for auction. It was last owned by one of the budget chains, but I think they used it during the pandemic as accommodation for the homeless, who made a bit of a mess in there. They obviously felt it wasn’t worth spending the money needed to bring it back up to scratch afterwards, so they decided to close it and sell it off.’

‘Doesn’t sound very promising,’ James observes. ‘Why Margate? It’s a dump, isn’t it?’

‘No. There are some seedy bits of it, but it’s up and coming in a big way. For starters, it’s got a whole artistic scene going on. It’s Tracey Emin’s home town and you’ve got the Turner contemporary art gallery, as well as the Antony Gormley ‘Another Time’ sculpture. And, despite being a mess inside, the hotel building itself is a classic example of Art Deco architecture with fabulous views down to the sea.’

‘What was your plan?’ I ask.

‘Simple. Restore the exterior to its former glory and convert the interior into luxury apartments.’

‘Seems like a sensible idea,’ I observe. ‘Why aren’t the borough council keen?’

‘Apparently, there have been objections from some people who feel that it’s an important local landmark and converting it into flats is tantamount to sacrilege. They’ve lobbied the council and the council have listened to them over the greedy developer.’

‘I heard you mention a plan B though, so you were obviously prepared for this eventuality.’

‘There is a plan B, but it’s not going to be good for us or the council.’

‘What is it?’

‘We mothball the place. It’s already boarded up so we just let it decay. Eventually, it will either fall down or the council will give in.’

‘A war of attrition,’ James observes.

‘Yup, and it pretty much guarantees we will automatically get turned down for anything we want to do in that area in future, but it’s basically the only card we can play now.’

‘Can’t you sell it?’ I ask.

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