Trouble on the Heath Read Online Free PDF

said Trevor enthusiastically. And it was true. He had absolutely no interest in whether the proposed development was in keeping with the other houses in Highgrove Park, or whether it would ruin the ponds on the Heath, or destroy the wildlife in the area. He would never be able to afford to live in such a desirable place, so why should he care? He had to remain neutral.
    Malcolm sighed. “Well, thanks for all your help,” he said, and made for the door.
    That was too easy, thought Trevor. I need to mix it up a bit more.
    So just as Malcolm reached the door Trevor called out, “Oh, Mr Thomas! Strictly speaking I shouldn’t be telling you this, but yes, I think it is a Russian company.”
    Malcolm nodded his thanks, and left feeling how very helpful the new Head of Planning was. He wasn’t to know that Trevor Williams had a secret reason for being so helpful.

Chapter Eight
    Nigel was the first there. He was closely followed by the Great Dane with only one eye called Faustus, then the Doberman called Midge. A lot of peeing went on, followed by a lot of sniffing. By the time the owners had caught up with their dogs, the dogs were busy exploring the fascinating world of bottoms. Any bottom would do, whether it was the bottom of another dog or the bottom of a hedge, fence or lamp post.
    Malcolm looked at his watch. It was
    10.25 a.m. “Well, it’s not quite the mass turn-out I’d hoped for,” he said.
    â€œActually I can’t stay,” said Major Riddington. “I was just walking the dog. Faustus! Here boy! Can’t stop. Sorry.” And he continued on his way.
    Malcolm turned to Midge’s owner, whose name he could never remember, although he’d asked her several times. “I can’t see the paper running a photo with a caption ‘Angry Residents Protest’ with just the two of us.”
    â€œOh.” What’s Her Name? sounded crestfallen. “Do you think anyone else will turn up?”
    â€œI told the photographer to be here at
    10.30. It’s 10.26 now.”
    â€œWait for me!” Patrick Simpson, the lawyer, came running up. “Has it all happened? Where are the others?”
    â€œI think we are ‘the others’,” said Malcolm. “Not exactly a record turn-out.”
    â€œWe’ll just have to space ourselves out,” said Patrick.
    â€œWon’t that look worse?” asked Midge’s owner.
    â€œThere’s the photographer!” exclaimed Malcolm. “Oh, no it isn’t,” he added under his breath. “It’s Hitler.”
    â€œIs it really?” asked Midge’s owner excitedly. She was secretly a fan of Nazi regalia.
    â€œMr Kendrick!” said Malcolm. “I’m glad you were able to make it. As you see we’re short on numbers.”
    Mr Kendrick looked at them with a blank expression.
    â€œShort on numbers for what?” he asked.
    â€œFor the mass demonstration against the development here opposite your house!” said Malcolm. He was already irritated by Mr Kendrick’s presence, although he knew he shouldn’t be. He had been hoping to hide Mr Kendrick behind some of the other residents. He imagined having a Hitler look-alike amongst the protesters might not win them much sympathy amongst the readers of the local paper.
    â€œMass demonstration?” muttered Mr Kendrick blankly.
    â€œWe voted for it at the last Residents’ Association meeting,” said Malcolm.
    â€œDid we?” asked Midge’s owner excitedly.
    â€œYes of course we did!” Malcolm could feel himself getting ruffled.
    â€œI didn’t vote for a mass demonstration,” said Mr Kendrick.
    â€œBut … but … Anyway you’re here.” Malcolm was trying to control himself. “That’s what matters.”
    â€œI was just going inside,” said Mr Kendrick.
    â€œBut please stay!” put in Patrick Simpson. “As you can see we need