The Planner(54)

They stopped outside a door just like all of the others, with the name Galbraith & Erskine sombrely engraved on a copper plaque. Felix boldly pushed it open and they came into what looked much like the room of a hotel in the vicinity of Heathrow airport. It was a square room, with a colour-flecked carpet. The lighting was bright and uncomplicated and the brass wall fixtures shiny. Adam, who was still arguably his best friend, was there.

‘Adam,’ said James. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here.’

‘Well, I think the bigger surprise is that you’re here. I didn’t think football was your thing at all.’

‘Oh, well – you know. Like a lot of people, I’m sort of interested.’

Adam nodded. ‘What do you think of our chances then?’

James paused uncertainly. It wasn’t enough to have come to the match, he should really have done some preparation. After all, he would have done for a meeting at work, and this was going to be far more challenging.

‘Well, it could go either way,’ he said.

Adam smiled. He was looking at him in a way that wasn’t quite unkind, but was certainly unwelcome. James hurried along to a table where there was a tray of pale yellow lagers. There didn’t seem any choice but to take one and start drinking.

‘Here,’ said Felix. ‘Come and meet our hosts and fellow guests.’

Every single person in the room was white and male. James had expected that, but on being introduced he realised something else, something Felix hadn’t warned him about – almost all of them were property developers. They were his greatest professional enemy. These were the landowners, speculators and spivs, the people determined to shape the way London would look for the next ten years, but had no interest in what happened after that, and who had completely different kinds of ambition and money from James. It was the developers who paid for all the architects and lawyers and construction companies, and who fucked cities up. And it was his job to stop them from doing all the things they wanted to do – wrecking skylines, spoiling conservation areas, building on green spaces and breaking affordable housing commitments. And the peculiar thing was, now that he was actually meeting them in person, he couldn’t help but like them. They were well mannered and friendly, they were generous hosts and hard-working conversationalists. They were, in fact, much nicer than any of the town planners.

‘Everyone here basically works in property,’ said James.

‘What did you expect?’ said Adam. ‘That’s how anyone makes money in this city. It’s how I make my money. It’s not as if we have any manufacturers I can sue or write contracts for.’

‘Listen,’ said Felix, ‘the very best brand consultancy is also management consultancy, or in your case, career guidance. So here goes: you work in property as well. Stop thinking of yourself as a town planner, and start thinking of yourself as a professional who works in the property sector with specific, highly sought after expertise in public policy.’

Adam nodded. ‘That’s actually quite good advice. And also try not to say anything completely stupid about football.’

A man called Robert came over to talk to James. To use one of those football idioms that James had always disliked, his was a face of two halves. He had wide-spaced, boyish teeth and soft vertical grooves beneath his nostrils. But his eyes were small, fast-moving and treacherous, while his narrow, worn brow suggested that he had hosted many evenings like this one – he had given many things away in exchange for others.

‘So it must be tough down in Southwark at the moment, what with the new social-housing targets,’ said Robert.

‘Yes, it is difficult. We’ve got some sites going through assessment at the moment, but not enough and everyone’s worried that to make them work they’re going to be too tall.’

And they then proceeded to have an interesting and productive conversation about housing densities, building specifications and the property market in South London. Robert clearly knew what he was talking about, and thought that the development framework for Southwark was too restrictive and risked inhibiting private investment. And James, who had actually helped draft the development framework, warmly agreed with him. For one thing, it was so much easier than disagreeing.

‘You know,’ said Robert, ‘it’s really good to meet someone from Southwark. We’ve got a lot of interests there, but have always struggled with the council. It’s good to have a friendly face on the planning side for a change.’

‘Well, it’s true, planners can be rather hard work.’