unlikely,’ he said, a crease deepening on his forehead. ‘You see the car park has a designated public right of way through it.’ He drew a line with his finger across the blueprints virtually cutting the car park in half.
‘And knocking down the platform and railway building?’ She had to ask.
His frown intensified. ‘The railway station is considered a historic building. It is grade two listed and is therefore subject to a number of conditions. Demolition is not an option.’
‘Can I open the car park and charge people to park there?’ This felt like an easy way to make money although, now it was August, the summer season was already well underway.
‘Subject to obtaining a parking permit, public liability insurance and undertaking a risk assessment to ensure there would be no environmental damage caused by vehicles or inconvenience to pedestrians.’
Daisy had to control the urge to huff out her frustrations. ‘Could I not just take down the fencing and charge £5 a day?’ she said, failing to hide a brief pout.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Right, so what can I do?’ Daisy was starting to feel this was a pointless meeting.
He nudged his glasses down his nose and viewed the file over the top. ‘Subject to application you could apply for a change of use.’
‘What else can you use a car park for?’ It was hard not to sound cheesed off at this point.
‘I meant the building itself.’
Daisy perked up. ‘Could I convert it into somewhere to live?’ One holiday rental would be better than nothing, she thought.
‘It’s possible,’ he said, although his face said different. ‘But I believe something commercial that retains the original features of the property and complies with the grade two listing would be the most likely to be looked upon favourably.’
Daisy wasn’t sure what else you could do with a railway platform and dilapidated ticket office. ‘Like what?’
‘A railway museum perhaps?’ He looked the most animated he had since she’d met him. What was it with men and trains?
She felt her shoulders slump forward in surrender. ‘I don’t think that would bring in much money.’
‘You’d be surprised. There are a lot of railway enthusiasts who would be interested and it would likely cover the increase in rates that would accompany a change of use.’
‘Increase?’ said Daisy sitting up, meerkat-like.
‘Yes, there is an annual cost associated with the property, which will fall to you as the owner. Any change of use will incur a review and a likely increase.’
Bloody brilliant, thought Daisy, not only could she do nothing with it, which would mean it would be virtually impossible to sell, it was also going to cost her money. Great Uncle Reg hadn’t thought this through.
The planning officer went on about what she could do to keep the site secure as they had had some complaints over the years of kids messing about and playing ball games in the car park area but Daisy let it wash over her, agreeing at what she hoped were appropriate moments. There was no way she was throwing good money at it. She thanked him for his time and advice, took his business card and vowed to think carefully about all he had said. But it was unlikely she would be submitting a planning request any time soon.
She decided she needed something stronger than an espresso and headed for the pub. Monty gave her a warm welcome and she sat at the corner table where she had sat with Max and sipped a large glass of Rioja. She had taken a liking to red wine whilst living in Spain and Rioja was one of her favourites, but it didn’t taste the same today; there was a certain bitter aftertaste.
Just when she thought she was at today’s low point, Max walked in, looking tanned and relaxed like he didn’t have a care in the world. He scanned the bar and when his eyes alighted on Daisy his face fell and Daisy involuntarily huffed. She didn’t like him because ever since she’d come back he’d seemed to annoy her; what with leaving her to lug home the heavy boxes, suggesting her mother had killed herself, knocking coffee down her before her interview and generally being hostile. It appeared to be a mutual loathing; although she wasn’t sure what she’d done, she got the feeling he was on Great Uncle Reg’s side when it came to what was best for her. She began studying the contents of her glass. Monty materialised and started to pull Max a pint – it appeared a bob of the head between them was communication enough. Daisy wondered how Max could afford to drink out virtually every night and then realised she had no idea what he did for a living.
Max took his drink, turned around and scowled briefly at Daisy.
‘You can sit here too, if you like.’ Daisy indicated the empty seats. She guessed it was most likely Max’s usual spot. She wasn’t going to move but she would attempt to be civil, however hard that might be.
Max gave a quick look around. There weren’t any other tables available. ‘Okay,’ he said looking rather reluctant as he sat down opposite Daisy sending across a whiff of freshly showered man. ‘Sorry to hear about the burglary.’
‘Thanks.’ She noted his clean t-shirt and casual jeans. Even his clothes mirrored his customary relaxed demeanour.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their respective drinks and avoiding eye contact until Daisy could bear it no more. ‘My day was shite. How was yours?’
Max sniggered. ‘Not great, but possibly not as bad as yours. What’s up?’
‘Met a planning officer about the old railway. Turns out it’s grade two listed so I can’t demolish it and I can’t build near it. All I could do is apply for change of use and make it into a boring museum for railway nerds.’
Max was frowning. ‘If you can apply for change of use I’d have thought there were more options than just a museum?’
‘He said commercial use, but there’s not a lot else you can do with a moth-balled ticket office,’ she said glumly.
‘Er, yeah there is,’ said Max, taking a long drink of his pint.
‘Like what?’ There was more than a hint of a challenge in her voice.
Max sat back in his seat and let his knees part. ‘If you think about the other ones locally there’s one that holds craft workshops, they seem to do okay. There’s one they converted into a pottery shop, another one is an antique shop – they specialise in railway memorabilia so they might be interested in your stuff.’
‘Hmm.’ She didn’t look convinced.
‘What about all the other old buildings that get converted, like banks and post offices? I’ve seen them turned into bars, coffee shops, restaurants, offices and one of them is even a car showroom.’
‘I can’t see the planning officer going for any of those; he seemed quite set on the railway museum idea. And all your suggestions sound like they’d cost a lot to fit the building out.’
‘You’re just on a downer – nothing I say is going to be a good idea because you’ve already decided you don’t want it to be a success.’ Max took
