The Planner(32)

Rachel came over to his desk. ‘Have you done that baseline briefing on Sunbury?’

‘The meeting isn’t until Friday.’

‘I think Lionel wants it before then. I wouldn’t mind seeing it either. I’ve got a meeting with the community housing lot tomorrow. Would be good to be able to tell them about a project that isn’t fucking up.’

‘Well, I haven’t done it yet.’

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Rachel was wearing a long dark coat with a red scarf over her shoulders. Her black hair was flat and she looked unusually professional and unfriendly.

‘Come outside and sit with me while I have a cigarette,’ she said. ‘I want to give you some grief.’

Without saying a word, he got up and followed Rachel out of the office and into the lift, in which they stood in careful silence alongside the Deputy Chief Executive while it bumped its way down to reception. It was only after they had got outside and Rachel had lit a cigarette that she spoke.

‘So. The date with Laura. Given the lovely text you sent me, I gather you didn’t think very much of her.’

‘Oh God, yes – sorry about that. I’d had too much to drink. Have you spoken to her?’

‘She rang me last night. She says you’re a weirdo.’

‘Well, I don’t think that’s fair. And I did like her.’

‘Really? Tell me the truth. I know what a useless liar you are.’

‘I did like her. She’s very clever. We just weren’t very compatible. You know what these Whitehall types are like. I felt as if she didn’t have any time for what I do.’

‘Really? That doesn’t sound like her. She’s never been like that to me. What did you talk about?’

‘Planning policy and market failure, mainly.’

‘Christ, you really know how to give a girl a good time.’

‘Well, believe it or not, she did most of the talking. I’m surprised she’s a friend of yours actually – she’s pretty right wing.’

‘She isn’t really. She’s just an economist, that’s all. She’s smart and she likes to challenge people. She’s always been like that – it’s one of the reasons I like her.’

Rachel blew a thick cloud of smoke into the cold air. James felt the need to defend himself further.

‘Okay, but you must admit – she is a bit snobbish and superior.’

‘She’s really not, you know. She’s from Stoke, for starters. There aren’t many snobs up there.’

‘She didn’t sound like she was from Stoke. She just sounded like someone from the Treasury.’

‘Did you even ask where she was from?’

James looked away and across the road. It had gone lunchtime, but the traffic was still heavy.

Rachel lit another cigarette. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why I’m even talking to you, given some of the things you said to Laura about me.’

Christ – what on earth had he said to Laura? Pretty much anything she’d wanted to hear, given that they were in the early stages of a date.

‘I didn’t say anything about you.’

‘That’s not what she said.’

‘That’s rubbish,’ said James.

Rachel shrugged. ‘Maybe. Laura can’t be completely trusted, I will grant you that.’

‘Well, she’s talking rubbish. I didn’t say anything.’

‘Fuck it,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m not bothered.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

‘Like I said, I’m not bothered,’ said Rachel.

But she was bothered. They both were. Rachel stubbed out her cigarette after just two drags and wrapped her scarf around her neck, and James tried to think of something that would end the conversation on a better note.

‘Are you going back upstairs?’

‘No,’ said Rachel. ‘I haven’t eaten yet. I’m going to get a sandwich. See you up there.’

James nodded and looked over the street that he knew so well. One of the problems was that it was too narrow for them all. The cyclists and drivers and bus passengers and pedestrians and pet dogs, all with their pointless preoccupations and over-heating minds. Every interaction required negotiation and tolerance, eye contact and a mature approach to shared space. It wasn’t like this in Nottingham. Yes, there were people, of course, and they were probably just as bad, but there were far fewer of them. They weren’t always banging into each other. He shivered in the cold and hostility. He had to get back inside. If nothing else, the public sector could still be good for shelter.

Back at his desk, James stared at the screen, but he still didn’t feel like doing any work. Now would probably be a good time to start writing a novel or maybe get into social media, but all the websites were blocked. Nor did he have the strength to reply to his sister. He thought about offering to make a round of tea for everyone, having a conversation with Rupinder about her holiday or perhaps going over to chat with Neil Tuffnel about traffic forecasts.