Free Face the Wind and Fly by Jenny Harper Page B

garage.
    ‘Wind turbines are the same. We expect them to generate a certain amount of power over a year and that amount is what we plan for.’
    The lawyer looked at his notes again. ‘But you can’t store the electricity either.’
    ‘No, you’re right, turbines don’t store electricity. What they do is feed power into the network.’
    ‘But surely, if it’s not windy when we need power most there’s no point, is there?’
    Kate said patiently, ‘Ever since we established a national grid for our electricity, engineers have been managing what we call “spikes”. We can predict when some of these are going to come.’
    ‘The advertising breaks in the middle of the soaps,’ said Nicola Arnott with her ready smile.
    ‘Exactly.’ Kate flashed her a grin in return. ‘And half time in the big football matches and so on. Engineers have always managed these spikes very efficiently. I’ll be very happy to go through this with you, and we do have a leaflet—’ she picked one up and waved it, ‘—but briefly, there are certain kinds of power, like hydro and nuclear, we can feed in very quickly into the grid. But the point about renewable energy,’ she paused, to underline the importance of this point, ‘is that we need to feed it into the grid whenever we can to save our finite fuels.’
    Kate paused and looked round. Time to wrap up. She drew a deep breath. ‘To put it at its most simple, we use renewable energy in the grid when it’s available and top it up with other kinds of power when we need to.’
     She could see that Frank was getting more and more wound up. She needed this Council – or a majority – to get behind her, or the Summerfield wind farm project was going to be extremely difficult to manage. She said, ‘Could I suggest that we ask Council members for their views?’
    The farmer broke in eagerly, his ruddy face even ruddier. ‘I’m all for it. Could you tell us, Mrs Courtenay, a bit more about the Community Benefit Fund you mentioned earlier on?’
    ‘It’s exactly what it says on the tin. The Fund will be set up by AeGen for community projects. You’ll need a committee to manage and co-ordinate proposals and apply for the funding, but most sensible proposals are likely to benefit.’
    ‘How much money is there?’
    ‘Two and a half thousand pounds per megawatt hour of installed capacity.’
    Mary Tolen whistled. ‘I’ve nae idea what that means, but it sounds like a lot of money tae me,’ she said.
    ‘It’s very generous. It could mean hundreds of thousands of pounds a year for your communities to spend.’
    ‘Blood money,’ Frank growled. ‘If you think you can buy us off by—’
    ‘Don’t be too hasty, Frank,’ said the lawyer. ‘Let’s hear all sides of the argument. Is this Fund just for the first year, Mrs Courtenay?’
    Kate shook her head. ‘The Fund is for every year that the wind farm is operating. If we get planning permission for twenty-five years, the Fund will run for the same length of time. I have to say,’ she smiled warmly round the table, ‘that most communities are simply unable to spend all the money available to them.’
    ‘We’d be selling our birthright for a mess of pottage,’ Frank boomed.
    ‘I don’t think we should dismiss it,’ said the farmer.
    Mary Tolen said, ‘What aboot we tak a wee vote, eh Frank? Get a feeling o’ the meetin’, like?’
    ‘I think it would be best if we take this evening as a sounding meeting only.’
    ‘Still, it wud be helpful to the lassie if she had some notion o’ our feelings,’ Mary persisted.
    ‘Very well,’ Frank agreed reluctantly. ‘In favour?’
    Mary Tolen, Nicola Arnott and the farmer raised their hands. The lawyer sat on the fence by abstaining. Frank slammed shut his notebook. ‘I declare this meeting closed,’ he barked.
    There were no thanks to Kate for her time. She started to bundle up her papers and glanced towards the back of the hall. Ibsen must have left because she