Free Prized Possessions by Jessica Stirling Page A

neat haircut now and the sort of look that she knew bothered Comrade Walsh, for he had already told her that she was close to becoming middle class; a comment that Polly thought rather flattering in a back-handed way.
    Tommy Bonnar had also turned up at the yard that evening.
    Polly wasn’t sure why he had come and he did not explain his reason. She didn’t like or trust wee Tommy, with his skeletal features, graveyard cough and those dead, zinc-coloured eyes that seemed to see nothing yet missed nothing.
    â€˜If I had money, real money, big money,’ Patsy said, ‘I’d be puttin’ it into building, so I would.’
    â€˜What sorta buildin’?’ said Dennis Hallop, who was out in the shadows under the beams filing something in a vice. ‘A bank, like?’
    â€˜Hell no, man,’ said Patsy. ‘Construction. The fathers of this fair city of ours will soon have no choice but to be knockin’ most of it down. Then the ones who’ll make money, real money, will be those who can lay drains an’ pile bricks an’ slate roofs.’
    â€˜Tradesmen!’ said Babs, not quite critically.
    â€˜If this government stays in power long enough, the municipal borrowin’ rate will be allowed to rise to six quid in twenty’, Patsy went on. ‘Then the steam hammers’ll cut a swathe through Glasgow like you wouldn’t believe. Everythin’ from the Carlton to the Calcutta Road will be swept away.’
    â€˜I hope they give us some warnin’,’ Babs said. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t want to get tossed out on t’ the street in my nightie-nite.’
    Jackie grinned and massaged the rubber grips of the motorcycle as if he were kneading flesh. ‘I’ll be there t’ save you, darlin’. ’Specially if you’re only wearin’ your nightie-nite.’
    â€˜Look what they’ve done already.’ Patsy ignored Jackie’s attempt to sabotage a serious conversation. ‘Three thousand suburban cottages in Knightswood. Three thousand’s a flea-bite. We need sixty thousand, seventy thousand new homes to rehouse the Clydeside wards. Where’s that money gonna come from, these days?’
    â€˜And where’s it going to go?’ said Polly.
    Patsy gave her a brusque nod.
    â€˜Have a guess, sweetheart,’ he said.
    â€˜The building trades, like you say,’ Polly answered. ‘They’ve started developments already in Mosspark and Anniesland.’
    â€˜How do you know?’ said Babs.
    â€˜I’ve seen the plans,’ said Polly.
    â€˜What plans?’
    â€˜In the burgh council offices. Where I work.’
    â€˜They let you see the plans?’ Dennis was impressed.
    â€˜Aye, sure.’
    â€˜What’re you then, an archy-tect?’
    â€˜I’ve access to architectural files when I need them,’ said Polly.
    â€˜Do you now?’ said Tommy Bonnar, and coughed.
    â€˜What’s our burgh council got to do with buildin’ programmes in Mosspark?’ said Jackie.
    â€˜Transportation,’ said Polly. ‘Tramcar routes, that sort of thing.’
    â€˜Never thought o’ that,’ Jackie admitted.
    â€˜Other people have,’ said Patsy.
    â€˜Like who?’ said Babs.
    â€˜Like the landlords an’ factors who’re already buyin’ up every strip of private land they can get their grubby paws on,’ Patsy declared. ‘When the purchase orders start tricklin’ in, they’re the ones who’ll make a killin’.’
    â€˜So long as they don’t knock down the Palais,’ Babs said, with a shrug.
    â€˜Aye, the Palais.’ Jackie swung himself from the motorbike, executed a not inelegant glide and hopped up on to the bench by Polly’s side. ‘That’s what I’d do if I had the real big money. I’d buy the Palais. I’d buy the Palais an’ let you all in for free.’
    â€˜The Paragon,