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gabbyncatAlso not posted by Gabby, but with extra bits added by Cat
Link to Plot Outline
He hadn’t taken long to get ready, and had emerged with his hair tousled and dripping wet, buttoning up his shirt as he walked. He tossed a leather jacket at her. Harry caught it, instantly noticing the soft feel of good-quality leather. She made a mental note - dresses well.
“Hold my jacket.”
“Bit nippy out,” Harry said uncertainly as Alex rolled up his sleeves. He rolled his eyes slightly and stretched out a hand for his jacket. He pulled it on, and glanced through the grimy windows. Finding the sky indisputably grey, he sighed and tucked his sunglasses into his pockets.
“Ready?” Harry sighed.
“For someone who wants a story out of me, you ain’t half cheeky.” Alex held open the door for Harry and followed her out.
“For someone who’s desperate for publicity, you don’t half drive people off.”
Alex smiled.
The flat was not what she expected. Her planned filler had been mostly clichés about tasteful furnishings or disorganised teenagers. Instead, she found a cluttered but carefully put-together room, the walls papered with newspaper cuttings, old posters, and anonymous paintings and photographs. He cursed and hurried to clear the sofa.
“Take a seat, I’ll make the coffee.”
“No milk, please.”
“That’s lucky.” While Alex clattered about the kitchen, Harry studied the walls. There were articles dating back to the early 70s, many of them about the Estate. Others were about his career, the band’s first concerts, first album, first top-ten hit. The photographs turned out to be mostly of the Estate, but you wouldn’t have thought it. Some of the shots were breathtaking.
“Good, aren’t they? Far cry from the fucking sink estate they’re painting us.”
“You’ve always lived here?”
“Mmmm. How did you know?”
Harry pointed at a faded photo of a family standing in one of the courtyards at the center of the Estate.
“Figured that’d be you in the middle there. Good coffee, by the way,” she raised the mug appreciatively.
“That’s the taste of liberal guilt being assuaged. Fair-trade and organic. And yeah, I’m the little scrappy one.”
“Whose are the paintings?”
“Some locals. I funded a sort of art club thing and they painted me them as a thank you, I suppose.”
“You’re quite the worthy one, aren’t you?”
“Got nothing better to do, to be honest. And I like this place. It takes more than just some flats to keep a community alive.”
“You say that as if the community is under threat...”
"Won't be here if they bulldoze the place."
"They're going to build new residential buildings. Everyone will be back here before you know it." Harry rattled off the company line and waited for the reaction.
Alex's eyebrow twitched. "You sound like you work for Sunrise Development."
"I've read the literature."
"So you know we've got nowhere to go, right? Not until they build the new place if they build the new place."
"Nice new apartment blocks. You can keep them if you don't want to come back once the new place is built, or you can trade in for the new flats."
"Are you really just going to parrot propaganda at me?"
"Unless you give me something else to say, yes." Harry watched him, waiting to see what he'd do.
He smiled wolfishly and held up his fingers. "One. We've got no guarantees about pricing. Can we afford this `temporary' accomodation, will be be able to afford to come back once hte new blocks are built. Two. We don't know, for certain, anything new will be built, it's all tied up in planning and no one is moving it ahead. Three. There's nothing wrong with these apartments that a lick of paint and some rewiring wouldn't fix. I don't know what the Health and Safety concerns are and no one is telling. Four. The temporary accommodation is for shit, no way can they build what they say they're building for the sort of money we're talking. Five." He stopped. "I don't have a five, but I know when I'm being sold a dud contract and this is a dud contract. It's too vague and they're going to compulsory purchase these places out from under us before they explain exactly what they propose to do."
“I see. Can you prove any of this.”
"Some? I've got some contacts."
Link to Plot Outline
He hadn’t taken long to get ready, and had emerged with his hair tousled and dripping wet, buttoning up his shirt as he walked. He tossed a leather jacket at her. Harry caught it, instantly noticing the soft feel of good-quality leather. She made a mental note - dresses well.
“Hold my jacket.”
“Bit nippy out,” Harry said uncertainly as Alex rolled up his sleeves. He rolled his eyes slightly and stretched out a hand for his jacket. He pulled it on, and glanced through the grimy windows. Finding the sky indisputably grey, he sighed and tucked his sunglasses into his pockets.
“Ready?” Harry sighed.
“For someone who wants a story out of me, you ain’t half cheeky.” Alex held open the door for Harry and followed her out.
“For someone who’s desperate for publicity, you don’t half drive people off.”
Alex smiled.
The flat was not what she expected. Her planned filler had been mostly clichés about tasteful furnishings or disorganised teenagers. Instead, she found a cluttered but carefully put-together room, the walls papered with newspaper cuttings, old posters, and anonymous paintings and photographs. He cursed and hurried to clear the sofa.
“Take a seat, I’ll make the coffee.”
“No milk, please.”
“That’s lucky.” While Alex clattered about the kitchen, Harry studied the walls. There were articles dating back to the early 70s, many of them about the Estate. Others were about his career, the band’s first concerts, first album, first top-ten hit. The photographs turned out to be mostly of the Estate, but you wouldn’t have thought it. Some of the shots were breathtaking.
“Good, aren’t they? Far cry from the fucking sink estate they’re painting us.”
“You’ve always lived here?”
“Mmmm. How did you know?”
Harry pointed at a faded photo of a family standing in one of the courtyards at the center of the Estate.
“Figured that’d be you in the middle there. Good coffee, by the way,” she raised the mug appreciatively.
“That’s the taste of liberal guilt being assuaged. Fair-trade and organic. And yeah, I’m the little scrappy one.”
“Whose are the paintings?”
“Some locals. I funded a sort of art club thing and they painted me them as a thank you, I suppose.”
“You’re quite the worthy one, aren’t you?”
“Got nothing better to do, to be honest. And I like this place. It takes more than just some flats to keep a community alive.”
“You say that as if the community is under threat...”
"Won't be here if they bulldoze the place."
"They're going to build new residential buildings. Everyone will be back here before you know it." Harry rattled off the company line and waited for the reaction.
Alex's eyebrow twitched. "You sound like you work for Sunrise Development."
"I've read the literature."
"So you know we've got nowhere to go, right? Not until they build the new place if they build the new place."
"Nice new apartment blocks. You can keep them if you don't want to come back once the new place is built, or you can trade in for the new flats."
"Are you really just going to parrot propaganda at me?"
"Unless you give me something else to say, yes." Harry watched him, waiting to see what he'd do.
He smiled wolfishly and held up his fingers. "One. We've got no guarantees about pricing. Can we afford this `temporary' accomodation, will be be able to afford to come back once hte new blocks are built. Two. We don't know, for certain, anything new will be built, it's all tied up in planning and no one is moving it ahead. Three. There's nothing wrong with these apartments that a lick of paint and some rewiring wouldn't fix. I don't know what the Health and Safety concerns are and no one is telling. Four. The temporary accommodation is for shit, no way can they build what they say they're building for the sort of money we're talking. Five." He stopped. "I don't have a five, but I know when I'm being sold a dud contract and this is a dud contract. It's too vague and they're going to compulsory purchase these places out from under us before they explain exactly what they propose to do."
“I see. Can you prove any of this.”
"Some? I've got some contacts."