Those Three Hours

(Advika has walked down to the site office on Carlisle Road with the new plan in her hand.)

Advika: I'd like to ask about the drawing in your window. It's different from the one you put up in March.

Bashir: It is different, yes. Thank you for coming in. It's much easier to explain this in person.

Advika: Is the building taller?

Bashir: Not so much taller as further back. In terms of height, we've actually taken half a floor off it.

Advika: Then why does it look bigger on the drawing?

Bashir: Because of the roof. On the earlier plan the roof sloped away from your side. It's flat now, apart from the corner nearest the road.

Advika: And that's because of?

Bashir: The water, largely. It seems the ground behind the site doesn't drain, so the whole building had to move about four metres in your direction. That's the key change. Everything else follows from it.

Advika: Four metres towards my kitchen.

Bashir: Towards your garden wall, strictly. I know that's an indirect way of putting it. The honest version is that we couldn't build where we'd planned to.

Advika: My real question is only about the light.

Bashir: Of course. Between two and five in the afternoon, in summer, the shadow will reach your side of the wall. Before two, nothing changes at all. It's really only those three hours.

Advika: Those three hours.

Bashir: I realise it isn't ideal. But most people are out of the house at that time, so in practice it tends to matter less than it sounds.

Advika: I retired in March.

(Bashir looks at the plan for a while.)

Bashir: Then it isn't three hours. It's three hours a day, every day, and you'll be sitting in them.

Advika: Thank you. That's the first direct answer I've had.