Cupid's Way (24 page)

‘Yes, it is. It’s not just the people. It’s the history, the beautiful architecture, the fact that those houses are there now and they have been for years and years and if you knock them down they will be gone for ever. Don’t you see that? Isn’t that the whole point of conservation?’

Michael gave a disparaging huff. ‘Conservation? This city is full of terraced houses – go and have a look. You’re turning this into something it isn’t, can’t you see that? This is a business deal, Evie, and it’s one that will provide essential services for local people and hundreds of new homes. That’s what it’s about, not tree-hugging conservationism.’

It was the tree-hugging that did it. All Evie’s life she’d been sensitive about her father, mostly defending him from her mother who took out her disappointment at being left a single parent by disparaging everything Evie’s dad had stood for. Evie had been left to do her own research into Greenpeace and the Rainbow Warrior because she’d got nothing positive from Angela. And throughout school and university, anyone who wanted to diminish the efforts of those who put themselves on the front line to make the world a better place resorted to those tired old insults. Evie had had enough. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and licked her lips. Michael’s last words hung in the air between them like an endless echo.She reached blindly for the door handle, just as it was pushed open by a young woman carrying a tray of coffee.

‘Where would you like this?’ the woman said, heading for the desk at the far side of the office.

‘Over his head, please,’ Evie told her, not taking her eyes off Michael’s.

‘Grow up, Evie,’ he said in a low voice.

She laughed. ‘When I do grow up, I hope I don’t turn into an asshole like you.’

The woman with the coffee clattered the tray onto the desk and looked around, her hand flying up to her mouth.

‘I think you should leave,’ Michael said. His eyes were flat now; his lips drained of colour. For the briefest moment, Evie wondered why she’d let it go this far. But it had gathered its own momentum and there was no way she could take any of it back. She couldn’t control her anger, and she couldn’t stop the words coming out of her mouth as if by their own volition.

‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving,’ she said, and then she walked through the open door and out into the glass atrium, where the lift waited like a spaceship ready to drop her back down to earth.

Chapter 21

The date of the formal planning meeting came around far too quickly. Although Evie had put in the application to English Heritage weeks ago, there was still no news on their listed building status by the end of March. On a sunny Friday morning, Mavis, Frank and Evie joined the other residents at the council offices with no viable way to counter the inevitable planning consent. Evie was beyond dispirited – not even Tim’s report on the colourful history of their beautiful street could cheer her up. If anything it only made it worse. Now Tommy wasn’t the only ghost needing protection. Now there were all the young men who had lived in Cupid’s Way and died for their country in the Great War – and the wives they’d left behind. Bob Peacock’s great grandmother had been among them, and Tim’s research had turned up a society called the Hearts Club, formed by the widowed wives and dedicated to raising funds for wounded soldiers.

The stories crowded around her as Evie parked her granddad’s supermini and went around to hold the door open for her gran. Like the railway workers who’d been the first residents over a hundred years ago, living in the two-up, two-down houses with one entire family to a single room. Or the Petersons – a young couple who had lived in Cupid’s Way in 1950 and had fostered a staggering fifty children. If only she could find some of those children, Evie thought, and get the former residents to add their voices to the fight.

Not that it would make any difference. The one thing Tim’s research hadn’t shown was any sign of real architectural significance. Cupid’s Way hadn’t been designed by a prominent architect, or even an up-and-coming one. It was beautiful and graceful and perfectly preserved, but it was still, in architectural terms at least, bog-standard. And Michael had been right – although Evie would rather poke out her eyes than admit it – when he said that Bristol was brimming with Victorian terraces. In fact, if Evie allowed herself to be brutally honest, many of them were prettier and better preserved than Cupid’s Way.

She had no intention of sharing these facts with the other residents. Until English Heritage came back with a final decision there was still hope that the social history might swing it. There was time, after all. Planning was a long process. That much Evie did know.

‘Stig’s here,’ Mavis said as they entered the council offices.

Evie waved at him across the reception area. She looked back at her gran, then let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Get over it, will you? He’s a harmless old man and he’s one of us. You can bet Stig won’t be selling out any time soon.’

Mavis had to concede this point – Stig’s distrust of anything official was legendary. ‘If only he’d wash, though,’ she said, pulling a face.

‘Well, at least his house looks better now. Zac did a good job of those windows.’ Evie looked around for Zac but couldn’t see him. Since her horrible argument with Michael she’d avoided their local builder, not trusting herself with a situation where she might get drawn into going for a drink, or looking for a shoulder to cry on, all on the rebound from something that never really was. Zac had been a bit of an idiot over the Roman artefacts scam, but he was basically a nice guy. Evie didn’t want to be tempted into yet another relationship with a man who so clearly wasn’t right for her.

Michael could have been right for her. This thought had crossed her mind so many times these past couple of weeks it was like a mantra. But she did what she always did and forced it out of her head. That way madness lay, and she’d had it with crazy, problem-fraught relationships. From now on she was going to keep it simple, and if that meant lonely, so be it.

‘Much good it’ll do us,’ Mavis said, responding to Evie’s comment about Stig’s freshly painted windows. ‘No point if it’s all going to be knocked down.’ Her desperation about Tommy and the street had turned into something else recently, and this new mood worried Evie more than the tears and the talking to herself. Evie had noticed an unpleasant anger creeping into her gran’s usually upbeat demeanour, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Evie took her gran’s hand and held it briefly to her chest, before standing up at a gesture from the clerk. It was time to go inside.

‘It’s not over till it’s over,’ she whispered as they took their seats near the back of the room. ‘There’s always hope.’

‘
Semper spes est
,’ came a voice at Evie’s shoulder, followed by the slightly sour smell of unwashed clothes. She looked around and there was Stig, winking. ‘There is always hope,’ he translated. Evie gave him a warm smile and turned back.

Councillor Martin sat at the head of the U-shaped arrangement of tables, listening to a worried-looking man who was crouched on his left. Frank, sitting on Mavis’s other side, had tension fairly oozing out of him. Evie had already reminded them both that in a formal planning meeting the public weren’t allowed to speak. They were allowed one short statement only, and Evie had joined the others in voting Sarah for this role.

The members of the planning committee filed in and Evie clasped her hands together on her lap. The stifling room was packed, every seat taken, and she knew Michael would be in here somewhere too. She had already resolved to force herself not to look for him. His words rang out in her head –
tree-hugging conservationism
,
let’s-all-live-in-fantasy-land ideas
– and she felt her nostrils flare in righteous anger. The nerve of the man. And how smug he must be feeling right now. Sitting there waiting for his big moment, for his cut-throat plans to get the red stamp of approval. She vowed that she would not react when the decision was announced. She would smile calmly and begin planning their appeal.

The councillor sat up and rapped on the table for silence. Under her breath, Evie whispered, ‘
Semper spes est
,’ and closed her eyes.

*

‘Evie, do you have any idea what’s going on?’

By the time Mavis turned to Evie, her questioning eyes narrowed in confusion, Evie was just as bewildered as her gran. She shook her head.

‘But you’re an architect!’ Mavis’s tone was accusing, and more than a little petulant. Evie sighed.

‘I know it’s frustrating, Gran, but we’re just going to have to wait it out. I can’t exactly stand up and demand they tell us what the hell’s going on, can I?’

Although this was exactly what Evie felt like doing. Ever since they’d called the meeting to order, the members of the planning committee had been whispering among themselves without so much as a glance in the direction of the now mumbling and shuffling spectators. Evie had spotted Michael a few minutes ago, despite her intention to ignore him. He was sitting in the third row from the front, his shoulders rigidly erect. She’d kidded herself for a moment or two that his apparent anxiety was down to her presence at the meeting, but Evie knew it was far more likely to be solely due to the mounting tension in the room. She imagined he wasn’t used to being out of the loop in situations like this.

Councillor Martin’s tie today was pale blue with yellow stripes, which Mavis had condemned as a bad omen. Now, as the man’s expression darkened even further at the words being muttered in his ear by the suited messenger, Evie wondered whether her gran might have been on to something. She’d been in enough of these meetings to know that this was not how things were supposed to go. In fact, the huddled whispering and holding everyone up for so long was unprecedented. Whatever was going on, Evie doubted it was good. Judging by the councillor’s expression, it was very bad indeed.

Which didn’t, she realised with a sudden jolt of excitement, necessarily mean it was bad for Cupid’s Way.

‘They’re getting ready to say something,’ Mavis hissed, and Evie sat to attention. Councillor Martin tapped his microphone then cleared his throat. He took a sip of water from a tall tumbler, replacing the glass just so on the table in front of him, then he picked up a sheet of paper and began to speak.

‘We are sorry to have wasted your time here today, ladies and gentlemen.’ He glanced again at the note in his hands. ‘This planning meeting will now be rescheduled for a later date.’ A man with round glasses and an even rounder head leaned in and said something in a low voice. Councillor Martin nodded and carried on. ‘There is only so much I can tell you at this stage, but suffice it to say that the council is in receipt of a counter offer for the land containing the street known as Cupid’s Way, and therefore will be reconvening to discuss our options in the interests of the community and the council’s interests forthwith.’

‘What did he say?’ Mavis whispered.

Evie noticed Zac, sitting on the other side of the room. He looked uncomfortable, and Evie wondered whether he was still unsure of his standing with the rest of the residents. She caught his eye and smiled.

‘Just stop the flim-flam and tell us what’s going on,’ came a familiar voice from the back row. Evie turned around and saw Bob Peacock shaking his fist, his face almost as red as his hair.

‘Probably worried he’s not going to get his thirteen pieces of silver,’ Mavis said, loud enough for the Peacock clan to hear. Freda glowered at her, and Evie pulled her gran around to face the front.

Councillor Martin was also pretty red in the face now, trying to field a barrage of questions. He consulted again with the round-headed man on his left, then stood up and held out his hands for quiet.

‘Okay, okay. Let’s have some order, please. I have been advised that due to the extraordinary nature of today’s proceedings, I am at liberty to give a short statement of explanation.’

He paused for another sip of water, and Evie saw Michael jerk up his head and take a quick sweep of the room behind him. If he noticed Evie he kept it hidden well. She began to chew on a fingernail, while by her side Mavis was explaining the new turn of events to Frank. She made it sound even more confusing than it already was, which was no small achievement.

Councillor Martin had everyone’s attention now, so when he spoke again he did so sitting down. The room had become uncomfortably hot, and Evie was beginning to wish they weren’t sitting quite so close to Stig after all.

‘This morning,’ Councillor Martin said, ‘Bristol City Council received a counter offer for the land at Cupid’s Way. Mr Roy McAllister of McAllisters Enterprises is claiming,’ – the councillor coughed sharply into his fist – ‘“unfair advantage” in the tabled application from Dynamite Construction Incorporated, and is seeking to purchase the land under section five alpha zero of the relevant regulations regarding hostile purchases.’

‘What
is
he talking about?’ Mavis pleaded, but Evie shushed her with a frown. The councillor continued.

‘Mr McAllister is already in possession of four units in the aforementioned site known as Cupid’s Way, and therefore claims control of exactly one third of the voting rights for the sale.’

He paused to allow the raised voices to settle back down, not looking up, not meeting anyone’s eyes. The man with the glasses rapped on the table with his knuckles.

‘Councillor Martin will not be answering questions from the floor,’ he said, ‘and if these disturbances continue this public session will be cleared immediately.’

That got people quietened down fairly swiftly, but the low muttering continued.

Then Michael stood up. Evie could sense the tension radiating from him. Mr Glasses gestured to him to sit down, but Councillor Martin stayed his hand.

‘Mr Andrews, I imagine you want to counter this new offer, and there will be a time and a place for that. Now, I’m afraid, is not it.’

All eyes were on Michael, except for those eyes belonging to the residents of Cupid’s Way, most of which were on Evie. She forced herself to keep staring forward, her gaze fixed on the back of Michael’s well-cut jacket. She saw his shoulders move out and down an inch, as though preparing himself for a fight, but when he spoke his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.