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 wasnât sure why he had come and he did not explain his reason. She didnât 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.
âIf I had money, real money, big money,â Patsy said, âIâd be puttinâ it into building, so I would.â
âWhat sorta buildinâ?â said Dennis Hallop, who was out in the shadows under the beams filing something in a vice. âA bank, like?â
âHell no, man,â said Patsy. âConstruction. The fathers of this fair city of ours will soon have no choice but to be knockinâ most of it down. Then the ones whoâll make money, real money, will be those who can lay drains anâ pile bricks anâ slate roofs.â
âTradesmen!â said Babs, not quite critically.
âIf this government stays in power long enough, the municipal borrowinâ rate will be allowed to rise to six quid in twentyâ, Patsy went on. âThen the steam hammersâll cut a swathe through Glasgow like you wouldnât believe. Everythinâ from the Carlton to the Calcutta Road will be swept away.â
âI hope they give us some warninâ,â Babs said. âI mean, I wouldnât want to get tossed out on tâ the street in my nightie-nite.â
Jackie grinned and massaged the rubber grips of the motorcycle as if he were kneading flesh. âIâll be there tâ save you, darlinâ. âSpecially if youâre only wearinâ your nightie-nite.â
âLook what theyâve done already.â Patsy ignored Jackieâs attempt to sabotage a serious conversation. âThree thousand suburban cottages in Knightswood. Three thousandâs a flea-bite. We need sixty thousand, seventy thousand new homes to rehouse the Clydeside wards. Whereâs that money gonna come from, these days?â
âAnd whereâs it going to go?â said Polly.
Patsy gave her a brusque nod.
âHave a guess, sweetheart,â he said.
âThe building trades, like you say,â Polly answered. âTheyâve started developments already in Mosspark and Anniesland.â
âHow do you know?â said Babs.
âIâve seen the plans,â said Polly.
âWhat plans?â
âIn the burgh council offices. Where I work.â
âThey let you see the plans?â Dennis was impressed.
âAye, sure.â
âWhatâre you then, an archy-tect?â
âIâve access to architectural files when I need them,â said Polly.
âDo you now?â said Tommy Bonnar, and coughed.
âWhatâs our burgh council got to do with buildinâ programmes in Mosspark?â said Jackie.
âTransportation,â said Polly. âTramcar routes, that sort of thing.â
âNever thought oâ that,â Jackie admitted.
âOther people have,â said Patsy.
âLike who?â said Babs.
âLike the landlords anâ factors whoâre already buyinâ up every strip of private land they can get their grubby paws on,â Patsy declared. âWhen the purchase orders start tricklinâ in, theyâre the ones whoâll make a killinâ.â
âSo long as they donât knock down the Palais,â Babs said, with a shrug.
âAye, the Palais.â Jackie swung himself from the motorbike, executed a not inelegant glide and hopped up on to the bench by Pollyâs side. âThatâs what Iâd do if I had the real big money. Iâd buy the Palais. Iâd buy the Palais anâ let you all in for free.â
âThe Paragon,
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes