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I smiled, and then swore again, grabbed my portfolio, and hopped out, slamming the car door.
I’d only had a week to come up with rough sketches. From what I could tell from searching online, the building used to be many things over the years, but none were a clue of its future. The community group on social media was rife with rumours and so far, nothing was conclusive.
I paused at the front door and checked the text I’d sent to Harry one more time.
Me: I understand if you don’t want to ever see me again but if there is a chance that we can talk, I want to. I miss you
I stumbled on the footpath. One tiny word and a time made my heart hammer against my ribs.
Read 10.07 am
I paced the footpath, staring at my phone for a full minute, wanting for dots to appear that a reply was being written.
Nothing.
I finally turned off my mobile’s screen to black and walked inside.
Showtime.
A woman stood at the back of the bare room, save for an old wooden table to the side and a chrome and Laminex counter from the 1950s when this was the Atomic Milk Bar. She was talking on her phone as I walked in, giving me a brief wave.
“Designer’s arrived. Can I give you call back in an hour or so? That would be great. Thank you.”
Her patent heels clicked across the unpolished wooden floors, her black pencil skirt with matching jacket hugging her slim figure.
“No one quite prepared me for how cold it is up here in winter. Bloody freezing. Modern heating is definitely needed in this building and I'm not sure what's possible given the heritage protection clauses over the buildings.” She thrust out her hand to shake. “I’m Bec of RMD Consulting. You must be Stacey Turner, of Design Gems?”
“Yes, that’s me. Good to meet you.” We shook hands and Bec waved at the space around us.
My hand was sweaty.I’ve covered her in sweat. Just breathe.
“My client highly recommended your services. I’ve seen your concepts for the refurbishment of a local medical centre.”
“Yes, in Stanmore.”
I frowned slightly.Her client?If Doc Larcombe had recommended me, surely she’d say his name? Or Mrs Larcombe?
“The brief was mostly redecorating the existing premises. The emphasis was on creating a less clinical setting to make our patients feel more comfortable as well as baby and kid-friendly spaces when seeing our baby nurse for check-ups.”
Bec nodded. “This project will be more extensive than that. Adding modern facilities into this building in line with the Heritage Protection Act will be a challenge.”
“I've been restoring a local homestead much older than this and I believe it’s more than possible to work with heritage protection clauses and have a space fit for purpose.”
Local homestead being your house. I squared my jaw and banished thoughts of imposter syndrome. “I took the liberty of doing an online property search of the Greater Stanmore City Council records anticipating our meeting today.”
I moved to the wooden table, opened my portfolio, and retrieved a printed page which I handed to Bec.
“Good, very good,” Bec hummed as she skimmed the report. “We can work with these restrictions.”
I smiled and turned back to my compendium. “As to putting in things like modern air-conditioning, and new wiring and wi-fi, I think a solution would be to duct electrical cables in new drywalls.”
I gestured to the open space around us. “But, what kind of business exactly is it? I have rough ideas with me, but I wasn't sure of the nature of the business as everything was rather secretive.”
Bec studied me over the printed council search in her hands. “A medical centre with rooms for allied health practitioners to hire as well as a residential unit upstairs.”
“A medical centre?” I spluttered.
“Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t disclose that information when I contacted you. The client insisted on confidentiality. The space needs consulting rooms for up to two doctors with a nurse, and a flexible space for a physiotherapist or even a weekly yoga class.”
