The Plot – Chapter 2
Borrowed Time
Jorja had kept her mouth shut for as long as she could. Now, with Tim’s blatant come-on from the night before fresh in her mind, she opened it.
How could Ruby be so blind?
Was she so desperate to have a boyfriend – any boyfriend? Could she not see that the odious Tim treated her like a doormat? That he tried it on with all her girlfriends? That this child-man’s rampant ego had as much self-control as his rampant cock?
Which was to say: none at all?
As she heard the torrent of words tumble out of her own mouth, she was horrified by the swift unravelling of her situation.
She was talking herself out of her last refuge before the street. Unless she STFU, she was going to be spending tonight under a bridge.
A homeless woman could not afford to have attitude, principles, pride. Could not afford to give her best friend necessary, timely, yet unpalatable advice.
Yet here she was, holding forth as if she were the tenant of this house and not a lowly, couchsurfing nobody.
Mum had always said her big gob would get her into trouble one day.
Today was the day.
Ruby let it all wash over her. Then she announced, with as much emotion as if she had just been read the weather forecast or the TV schedule:
‘Thanks for that, Jorja. I’d like you to go now.’
Councillor Annie Kowalski had an unfortunate voice. Loud, nasal and high-pitched, it could probably be used to strip stubborn wallpaper, Leah thought.
Relentless, the sharply-dressed young woman droned on:
‘… a total area of approximately two thousand, six hundred and thirty-two square metres. The site currently contains a community garden and two outbuildings. It sits between residentially zoned land on its southern and western boundaries and has a commercial zone on its eastern boundary. The proposal is for the construction of a four-storey apartment block comprising sixteen two-bedroom dwellings with an underground car park …’
Leah shifted in her seat. Cut to the chase, woman, she thought.
‘… a total of thirty-five objections were received. A consultation meeting wasn’t able to be held because of COVID restrictions …’
Yeah, right.
‘… but the applicant provided a response in writing to the objections and this was circulated to all of the objectors. Some of the objections regarded increased vehicular traffic and potential loss of street parking spaces. However most concerned the closure of the community garden.’
Yes, quite.
‘… In response to the objections the developer has relocated vehicle access away from the residentially zoned land and proposes the relocation of the community garden to another part of the site, further to the north, alongside the railway reserve.
‘Following the circulation of the modified plans, seven objections were withdrawn, leaving twenty-eight, and the matter was called to a Planning Committee meeting …’
Twenty-eight objections was disappointing. The petition had had over three hundred signatures.
‘… and so the application was considered under ResCode with particular reference to Planning Policy Framework 15.02–9T and clause 8–01 Housing Supply … On balance, with the proposed amendments, the application is considered to respond to the relevant guidelines, meaning a high level of compliance has been achieved.’
A high level of compliance with the regulations. Not with what had originally been promised to the residents. What they had campaigned for.
‘Based on this assessment, the application is respectfully recommended to be supported by Council.’
Fuck.
Brett Neumann, the Chair, cleared his throat: ‘Thank you very much, Councillor Kowalski. Any questions from councillors?’
Leah’s hand shot up.
‘I have one. Six years ago, the residents of the neighbouring area were promised a community garden as part of the larger residential development on the former textile factory site. This happened, the garden is established now and an important part of the local community, yet now …’
Brett’s shaggy eyebrows had been clambering up his wrinkled forehead as she spoke. Now he interrupted: ‘Councillor, are these observations leading to a question?’
Prick.
‘Yes. Yes, they are. Why does the garden have to be relocated to a much less accessible part of the site? Why do its members have to start again from scratch? After all the time and effort they’ve put in, turning a barren, rubble-strewn wasteland into a thriving and productive resource and amenity for the whole community?’
Harry Nguyen, on the other side of the Chair, nodded vigorously at each of Leah’s points. Good on you, Harry. He had always been her closest ally on Council.
‘Councillor Kowalski?’ invited Neumann, when she had finished.
The response was a foregone conclusion, citing precisely the same accessibility issues Leah had raised. What it amounted to was that the success of the redevelopment had made the community garden land too valuable to grow mere food on. The developers had come back for another slice of the cake, so the garden would be shunted to the least accessible, least visible, least valuable part of the site.
‘Any further questions? Councillor Nguyen?’
‘Thank you. Has the proposed new site for the community garden been tested for the presence of heavy metals and other soil contaminants? Given its proximity to the railway and old heavy industry from the nineteenth century …’
‘Err … no, because there has never been a proposal to zone it residential. But in the event of the site being contaminated, a variety of remediation procedures would be possible, including, but not limited to, sealing the site under hard surfaces and gardening in raised beds and containers, utilising compost sourced from green waste collections …’
In the end, the application was approved, as Leah had known it would be. Two votes against, one abstention, four in favour.
Next week in The Plot:
Chapter 3: Outrage
Leah breaks the news to the community garden members.
Disclaimer: The people, organisations and events described in this story are entirely the product of the author’s imagination; they bear no intentional resemblance to real-life people, organisations and events. The locations are based on real places.
Gritting my teeth at the very idea that land could be too valuable to grow mere food on. I'm in Costa Rica watching these "same" developers lay waste to pristine jungle to put up cookie-cutter row houses that resemble hamster habitats. Great piece, Steve! I'm loving the story, even though it's a bit close to the bone! xo