Trouble On Site

Why did these people have a problem with the new play park?

ANNA threw her wellingtons, hard hat and hi-vis jacket into the boot of her hatchback, blew on her hands for warmth and climbed into the driver’s seat.

No cosy office for her this morning. Today was the start of a build she was project-managing, a children’s play park at Grantley Forest.

The mayor would be there so the local paper could photograph him looking ridiculous with a spade while wearing a good suit and his chain of office.

The play park was going to have swings and slides, monkey bars, a pirate ship and climbing pyramid – all on safety surfaces.

Anna could already picture it full of happy kids. It would be hard work but worth it.

She parked the car, pulled on her gear and walked along the woodland path to the building site.

The digger was already there, having come in via a special access route, and a group of workers were talking in a huddle.

One broke away as he saw her. It was Den, their foreman.

“Morning! I’m not late, am I?” Anna asked.

“No, boss. Right on time. But we’ve got a problem.”

“Already? But we haven’t even started yet.”

“We could have difficulty starting at all. See?”

Den pointed behind him and, for the first time, Anna noticed people hanging around near the digger.

“Protestors. Each time Malky gets in the cab, they form a circle round it and link hands.”

“Protestors?” Anna cried. “Why would anyone want to protest about us building a children’s play park?

“It’s something nice for the whole community – it makes children happy!”

“Try telling them that.” “I will!”

Anna marched over. “Good morning,” she began as she reached the assembled bunch.

She decided to be polite – no sense going in with all guns blazing.

“I understand you’re taking issue with this morning’s site clearance.”

A man in a long green parka stepped forward. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Anna Walters, project manager for this park. Can someone tell me what the problem is?”

Six voices all started to talk at once. She held up her hand.

“One at a time, please.” The voices quietened. “You tell her, Joe,” someone said.

“Who’s Joe?” Anna asked. “That’s me,” the man in the parka said.

“Talk to me, Joe. Tell me what this is all about.”

“I’m glad you asked, since nobody else is listening.

“It’s about the unnecessary destruction of precious woodland.

“It’s about cutting down trees and clearing fallen branches which are home to native birds, squirrels and other small mammals and insects.

“About replacing natural habitats with manufactured safety surfaces and equipment.”

“Shame on you!” a voice cried.

“Save our trees!” a woman shouted.

“Vandals!” another voice shouted.

This was by no means a large group, but they looked determined.

Was there any chance Anna could talk them round before the mayor arrived?

“Look, I wasn’t with this project from the very start, I admit, but when I took over from a colleague I understood that all the necessary research had been done regarding environmental impact.

“If there had been any rare species of flora or fauna, I’d have been told.”

“What constitutes rare?” Joe argued.

“We’re not saying there’s anything here that’s facing extinction, but public woodlands should be protected anyhow.

“Not because they can tick boxes, but because they’re beautiful, rich,

soothing places; havens in a too-busy world.”

Anna listened, aware she lived in that “too-busy world”.

She worked hard, then dashed round the supermarket for a trolleyful of ready meals.

She checked social media while her dinner revolved in the microwave, tried to do her laundry and clean her flat in the evenings, then collapsed in a heap at weekends, often in front of mindless telly.

Strolling through woodland, listening to bird-song and feeling the crunch of twigs underfoot and fresh air on her face? It did sound wonderful.

“We’re not levelling the whole wood,” she argued.

“We say there’s no need to level any of it,” Joe replied.

“It takes decades to establish a place like this, yet you want to flatten it in a matter of hours.”

Anna sensed someone behind her. It was Den.

“The mayor’s arrived. What should I tell him?”

Bother. This morning’s situation was tricky enough, without factoring in Mayor Gilpin’s infamous ego.

“I’ll speak to him.”

****

Mayor Gilpin was leaning against the open boot of the smart mayoral car, tucking his suit trousers into a clean pair of wellies.

“Good morning, Mayor Gilpin. Thanks for coming.” “My pleasure, Miss . . .?” “Anna, please. Anna Walters, project manager.”

“Is the photographer here yet?”

“Here he comes,” Den said.

Anna saw Andy Boyd from the local newspaper approaching, his camera bag over his shoulder.

“Andy!” the mayor called. “We’re all ready.”

“We do have a slight problem,” Anna said.

“Oh?”

“There’s a small group of protestors – perfectly peaceful – but they’re against what we’re doing here today.

“I think they plan to get in our way.”

“Get in the way of council business? I don’t think so!”

Anna stood aside as the mayor strutted across the site to where the protestors were standing. She followed a few paces behind.

“Oak and beech and elm and ash – please don’t treat our trees like trash!” the group chanted as he approached, linking their arms in solidarity.

“Ladies and gentlemen, no-one is treating anything like trash.

“Go home. Tell your children how lucky they are to get a new, all-weather playground, thanks to the hard work and generosity of their local council.”

“This already is an all-weather playground,”

Joe replied.

“This?” Mayor Gilpin scoffed. “But there’s nothing here.”

“There’s none so blind as those who will not see.”

“Who are you calling blind?”

“You. You’re blind to the natural beauty that already exists in this borough.

“We don’t need shiny painted toys for our kids.

“We need unspoiled places with trees to climb and birds to spot, creepycrawlies to study and fresh air to breathe.”

“Who do you think you are, lecturing me and holding up proper, lawful development?”

The mayor went to shove Joe in the chest, but Joe stepped back.

Mayor Gilpin pitched forward and, unused to his wellingtons, fell flat on his face.

There was a good covering of fallen leaves, so it was a soft landing, but Anna groaned.

The protestors tittered and burst into a round of applause, which incensed Mayor Gilpin further.

Worse, Andy Boyd had snapped the whole thing on his camera.

“Don’t you dare show those photographs to a single soul!” the mayor warned, clambering to his feet.

“I’ll have the council’s legal team down on you. And I’ll be speaking to your editor!”

Andy shrugged. He didn’t scare easily.

Mayor Gilpin looked at his suit. It was a mess. He turned to Anna. “I blame you. This is what happens when they send a girl to do a man’s job.” Anna was stunned.

“Now, just hold on a minute,” Den began.

“No. I’m leaving. Stanley, drive me back to the town hall so that I can change my clothes.

“Miss Walters, you had best sort out this situation. And quickly!”

As he left, Anna told

Malky to get back in the cab and try to start the digger again.

But when he did, the protestors did as Den had described, forming a circle round the vehicle, linking hands and chanting.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she asked them with a sigh.

“Nope. We can stay all day,” Joe replied solemnly.

****

They did. Eventually Anna and her team gave up.

Back at the office, she told the whole tale to

Chloe, the administrative assistant who’d been dealing with the project’s paperwork.

Chloe had been invaluable as a link when Anna’s predecessor had moved on and the play park had fallen to her.

“You say it wasn’t funny, but you’re laughing on the inside, I can tell,” Chloe said as Anna told what had happened to the mayor.

“Maybe,” Anna said. “But I haven’t had to deal with this before, and I don’t know what to do.

“Where have these folk appeared from? Why didn’t we hear from them at the consultation stage?”

Chloe looked troubled. Anna spotted this.

“Am I being kept in the dark here? What am I not being told?”

“It happened before you came on board, when Jerry was still the project manager.” Chloe hesitated. “There was to be a consultation process and there was one public meeting.

“Written feedback was requested, but when letters arrived at the department, I was told to ‘lose’ the unfavourable ones.”

“What? Who told you?” Chloe was silent.

“Not Jerry?”

“I think he was pressured by someone else.”

“And now he’s on sabbatical in New Zealand, out of the way,” Anna said.

“We need unspoiled places with trees to climb”

“No wonder those protestors complained no-one listened to them.

“Thanks, Jerry. You’ve dropped me right in it!”

Anna didn’t want to go to her line-manager. Nor did she want Chloe to take the brunt of any blame.

“I don’t suppose you still have those letters?” she asked Chloe later.

“I do. Something told me to hang on to them.”

When Anna came back to her desk after a trip to the coffee machine, there they were, in a manila folder.

There were three letters protesting against the new play park, and one petition.

The best letter spelled out the benefits to children of having access to unspoiled nature and the drawbacks of playing in a manufactured environment.

The language was passionate but not hostile, and Anna felt the author made a good case.

It was signed Joe Welch. Surely the same Joe she’d met that morning.

Why had these letters been brushed under the carpet?

Why not face up to the arguments, assess their merits and see if a mutually acceptable compromise could be reached?

She went home and had a think.

****

“Chloe,” Anna began next morning. “Can

you think of any reason why the play park project was pushed through so unyieldingly?

“The council isn’t always known for listening to the public, but they don’t usually steam-roll over legitimate objections.

“They’d rather get the support of the community.”

“I can’t help you there,” Chloe replied. “But I can dig out all the files from before you started.”

Paperwork wasn’t Anna’s favourite thing, but the digger was surrounded by protestors again today, so she had time on her hands.

She decided to scrutinise the project’s history.

Fuelled by coffee, Anna had her nose to her desk until lunchtime.

She began to notice something strange.

Somehow, the company which was to supply and fit the play park equipment seemed to have bypassed the tendering process and secured the deal without any competition.

“Something’s not right here,” she mused.

Over a roll in the canteen, she consulted Chloe. Could she remember anything that might explain why the contract wasn’t put out to tender?

“Vaguely. The company the council went with were new and they were offering a special introductory deal.

“Mayor Gilpin pushed for the council to accept it – if they waited to consider other offers, they would have lost the introductory price, he argued. The council agreed.”

Anna wasn’t happy. Back at her desk, she Googled the name of the play park equipment company.

Digging a little deeper, she managed to find details of the board of directors.

Second from the top was one she recognised.

Mr D.J. Gilpin.

James Gilpin, the mayor. “No wonder he was so keen to see this project go ahead smoothly,” Anna told her line-manager shortly afterwards.

“Gilpin was lining his own pockets.”

“Under the circumstances, we’re going to have to stop everything,” her line-manager replied. “This whole matter is going to have to be looked at by the council members and officers.”

“In that case, can I suggest that we also take into consideration some objections made by members of the public which somehow got overlooked in the consultation process.

“They have suggestions for alternative provision, and at a fraction of the price.”

****

When Anna returned to the site the protestors were sitting around a folding table on deckchairs.

“You won’t get rid of us!” someone called.

“I don’t want to,” Anna replied. “I want to talk to you. Actually, no, I want to listen to you.”

“That’ll be a first,” a voice said.

“Give the woman a chance,” Joe said, standing up. “Here, take my seat.”

“Thanks. The good news, from your point of view, is that the whole play park project has been put on hold.

“Some of the arrangements have to be looked at again, so the digger and the team will be leaving the site.”

“It’s a trick,” someone grumbled.

“I promise you, there will be no further attempts to remove any trees or do any landscaping until the whole matter has come before the council again, which will take weeks at the earliest. I give you my word.”

Joe took a long, appraising look at Anna.

“I believe her,” he pronounced.

“Thank you.” Anna let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

“I’ve been looking back at some of the paperwork, and now I understand why you felt your concerns and ideas had been overlooked.

“I’m urging you to try again. Put together a short presentation about your alternative proposals for the forest site and let’s get you a meeting with the decision-makers.”

“Really? That’d be great!” Joe said.

“So, starting from the beginning, let’s hear what you have in mind, then let me help you put it in terms that will sell it to the powers that be.”

****

The forest was full of shrill little voices. As another group of children ran past her, Anna felt the urge to call out, “Careful, there – be careful!”

But she bit her tongue. Joe squeezed her hand. “This is how they learn, Anna,” he said, reading her mind. “If they trip and fall a couple of times, what’s the harm?

“They learn to pick themselves up and get on with it, and they pay more attention the next time.”

He was right, Anna knew. It wasn’t just that he had good instincts about kids.

Joe was a qualified play-worker – he’d set up and run schemes all over the country, with a big emphasis on outdoor play, and another on adults keeping out of the children’s way.

For example, he’d chatted to the children about creating a “bug hotel” out of chunks of rotting wood.

Then he’d let them get on with it, and they’d done a great job, of which they were justly proud.

“If you keep intervening, you rob children of the joy of discovery, and you make them doubt themselves instead of trusting their own judgement,” he explained.

They came upon three little girls and a boy having a tea party on an old blanket, with a real stainless steel teapot and a collection of melamine mugs.

One little girl poured water carefully from the pot, but when she overfilled her cup, she simply tipped the excess on to the forest floor, where it was quickly absorbed.

“No harm done,” her young friend said, and

Anna and Joe exchanged a smile.

There was no large metal equipment here, no manmade safety surfaces.

But there was space and light and the sounds and smells and the feel of nature.

In a clearing, boys and girls were building a den.

Further along, children were balancing on old seat-belt fabric they’d tied between two trees, holding on to another strip they’d tied a bit higher.

Some other little ones had made stepping stones across an imaginary river full of alligators.

“It’s turned out brilliantly,” Anna said.

“And all for a measly few pounds, which can go a long way when you add a touch of imagination,” Joe replied.

“Thank you.” Anna smiled up at him. “For opening my eyes to all this, and for teaching me to slow down, nourish my soul and my body.”

“Does that mean you’re up for cooking tonight?”

“I sure am. It’s amazing – since getting outside more and eating well, I seem to have much more energy.”

“I need to say thanks to you, too,” Joe told her.

“For what?”

“For giving us ‘little people’ a chance – for not just doing what your bosses told you.

“None of this would have been possible without your help.”

“The only real work we had to do was put in a decent path, so that all the kids with mobility issues could access the forest, too.”

“And we managed to cut the ribbon and declare it open without any help from the mayor.”

“Ex-mayor. They’ll replace him now. He’s in big trouble.”

“I vote we go for a walk and find a quiet spot, away from the kids.”

“Oh?” Anna threw him a mischievous glance. “And why would that be?”

“So I can kiss you – and outdoor kisses count double.”

The End.