by Laura Marney
A defiant cheer went up.
Betty Robertson and the No Campaigners remonstrated, of course, and both sides tried to drown the other out, though they seemed equally matched. One of the Claymores, Will, started thumping a bass drum to a battle-ready rhythm. Somewhere behind me a primal heeeuch split the air. I recognised that heeeuch, and turned round to see it fly from my Steven’s mouth. He and Mag were doing some kind of Highland fling war dance.
All day I’d nursed the hope that this defeat might finally winkle Steven out of Inverfaughie. I’d planned a lovely dinner of roast pork to soften him up followed by home-made tablet and ice cream but that heeeuch told me everything I needed to know about Steven’s plans. I shook my head and found myself simultaneously shaking my head and tapping my toe to the rhythm of the booming drum.
Chapter 68
Steven and the Claymores were still at the meeting banging the war drums, so before I started dinner I had a quick look at my emails. One of them, I couldn’t believe: I had to read it three or four times to get the sense. It was from Tennyson and Cosgrove, a firm of London solicitors acting on behalf of Lady Anglicus. How did they even know my email address? They were offering me, at a reasonable price, the conversion of Harrosie from leasehold to freehold. Who knew what kind of market I’d find for it now, but still and all, I’d easily swap a successful eight-bedroomed B&B here for one in Glasgow.
I had a fleeting dilemma about the morality of taking the bribe – Dinah obviously believed I’d been working on her behalf – but I could be certain in myself that I hadn’t sold out, that Jenny and Brenda had begged me to help. And anyway, the Anglicuses had made a fortune from the sweat of Robertsons through the centuries – this was a wee bit of payback. But if Steven was set on staying in Faughie, should I sell? And what about Jackie? I knew, because he’d grudgingly told me, that he was glad me and Steven were here, keeping Harrosie in the family.
Steven and the rest of them still hadn’t come back from the meeting. I needed a good think and Bouncer was whining at the front door. Walkies.
The hills were a lonely place to be on your own. On the news it was always dog walkers who discovered raped and mutilated bodies. If I threw a stick for Bouncer to fetch, I always worried that he’d come back with a decomposing human hand in his mouth, so I always tried my hardest to keep up with him. I was peched out. We had been out for a good hour and a half and as I turned to walk back down the hill I almost ran into Keek cycling up the path towards me. What the hell was he doing up here? I’d never seen anyone up here with a bike before, the ground was too rough.
‘Hey, keep your dog under control!’ he yelled at me.
Bouncer was the most surefooted dog I knew; he’d given the bike a wide berth as he’d passed.
‘I nearly came off my bike there!’ Keek insisted.
I was too dumbfounded to be angry.
‘What the hell are you talking about? The dog was nowhere near you.’
‘That dog should be on a lead!’ he screamed, one skelly eye on Bouncer, the other halfway up the hill. He was hysterical. And then he leaned in and mumbled something down the front of his anorak.
‘Sorry?’
I was starting to worry. I was alone on a hillside with this nutbar.
‘Tonight. Tell them tonight.’
‘Ok,’ I said, scuttling past him.
I wound Bouncer’s lead round my fist into a knuckleduster ready to swing it into Keek’s face. As I galloped down the hill I heard the bike getting closer behind me. I set my jaw and waited to be ravished. I would go down fighting.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled again, ‘I didn’t mean tell them tonight, I meant it’s happening tonight. Will you tell them? Don’t use your phone. Please, Trixie?’ And then he loosened his grip on the bike brakes and skited off down the uneven path, his bum lifting off the saddle with every bump.
Chapter 69
Jackie answered the door at Walter’s house. He ushered me immediately into the kitchen. Walter and Jenny were at the table having a pow-wow, eager to hear what Double Agent Keek had said to me. Nobody seemed surprised when I told them.
‘Good old Keek, I knew he’d come up with the goods,’ said Jenny, ‘too glaikit-looking to show up on their radar as a spy threat; what a secret weapon that lad has been for us.’
‘It’s the Bay of Pigs all over again,’ said Walter, ‘or Batalla de Girón, as it’s more properly known, the amphibious invasion undertaken by the CIA against Cuba in 1961. We’re about to witness history, as it so reliably does, repeating itself. They’re coming to liberate the poor downtrodden Faughians, that is to say, Betty and her ilk, and deliver them from the tyranny of dangerous communists, that is to say, us. And, as they’re not legally required to recognise our sovereignty, they’ll claim it’s a law-enforcement issue. Like the Bay of Pigs, they’ll come by sea, in the dark, with no witnesses. Put simply, they want to get the jump on us, reassert control before we can establish a mandate for self-rule.’
‘Walter, this is scary, what’s going to happen?’
To my amazement, Jackie, who sat across the table from me, reached over and took my hand.
‘It’s ok, Trixie, there’s nothing to be scared of,’ he said gently.
‘If the invasion is successful they’ll overthrow the committee, they’ll probably arrest us, but I doubt they’ll actually shoot anyone, that wouldn’t play well,’ said Walter, not exactly reassuring me. ‘But it won’t be successful, we’re prepared. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to fear.’
I burst out crying, bawling like a wean. I couldn’t really work out why I was crying: probably the thought of a terrifying invasion, but it might have been a subconscious appeal to my dad. This was a side of Jackie I’d never seen, this gentle paternal side.
Jenny put the kettle on while I cried out every tear I could muster. Jackie moved to sit beside me, patting me on the back and briefly letting me cry on his shoulder.
‘Sorry, Trixie,’ Jenny apologised, ‘we have a lot to organise. Slightly caught on the hop, we didn’t expect it to be this soon.’
Suddenly everyone was bustling about, my tears forgotten.
Walter and Jackie went into the front room and I took this moment alone with Jenny to make my confession.
‘Jenny, I need to explain what happened.’ I blurted before I had the chance to change my mind. ‘Dinah’s paying me a bribe. When she was desperate to sell she asked me to nobble the committee.’
‘Huh! You didn’t work very hard for your money. As I remember, we had to talk you into coming with us.’
‘I didn’t want to do it, you know I didn’t, but Dinah doesn’t know that so now her lawyers have offered to sell me Harrosie freehold. I feel …’
‘Hang on, Walter has to hear this.’ Jenny rushed into the living room and rushed back with Walter and Jackie.
‘Tell them what you’ve just told me.’
I hung my head.
‘Tell them, this is important. It’s ok, go on.’
I was forced to admit my black burning shame all over again, this time in front of Jackie.
The three of them looked at each other across the table.
‘I’m so sorry. I don’t really know how it happened, I just got caught up in it, I’m so sorry I–’
Walter interrupted me, ‘Do you have the money to buy it?’
Oh god, this was awkward. How could I tell them that I’d salted away every penny, that I’d spent every waking hour dreaming up ways to make more money so that I could buy my way out of Inverfaughie?
‘Eh, yes, I think so.’
‘Right,’ said Walter, ‘This is an absolute gift – well, a literal gift for you, Trixie, but it gives us just the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. Ho ho! The architect of her own undoing!’ said Walter, rubbing his hands. ‘A small blundering step for Anglicus, a giant leap out of feudalism for Faughie. This sets a precedent for us to buy the town, one property at a time.’
‘If we win,’ said Jenny.
�
�Aye, sure, if we win,’ repeated Walter.
‘You’re not angry with me?’
‘Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose,’ said Jenny, somewhat grudgingly. ‘Whatever happens tonight, win, lose or draw, they’re going to write books about this.’ She cleared her throat, always a sign that she was about to make a speech.
‘We know what the past has given us and, based on hundreds of years of experience, what it’ll keep on giving us. This is our chance to rip up the old heraldic rulebook, transform the way we do things around here, make our own social democracy. This is the most exciting moment in our lifetime. I don’t care what anybody says about you, Trixie, och, you’re selfish like most folk, and you’re a bit annoying, but when it comes down to it, you’re actually not a bad sort.’
Despite the selfish/annoying dig that Jenny couldn’t resist, I was so relieved to hear her say this, I rushed at her like an enthusiastic dog. Another enthusiastic dog joined in and we both nearly knocked wee Jenny off her feet. I clung to her and sobbed my gratitude. I didn’t deserve these people.
‘We’d better make a move, Jackie,’ Jenny said, as she forcibly removed my arms from around her. ‘You go out the front, I’ll go out the back.’
‘Trixie,’ said Jackie, trying to take the heat off Jenny and let her make her escape out the back way, ‘you did the right thing. I’m proud of you.’
I rushed him too. I sensed his embarrassment and, trying to be a little less selfish and annoying, I released my grip on him. Jackie gathered up his stuff, put on his bicycle clips, voluntarily returned to give me a lovely hug, and then made to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked but he didn’t answer. I trotted after him, out the front door, but Walter hauled me back inside.
‘What’s he going to do? Be careful, Jackie!’ I shouted after him.
‘Shhh!’ said Walter, quickly closing the door.
Bouncer jumped up and rested his head in Walter’s lap as we sat at the kitchen table sipping tea.
‘Why did I have to shoosh?’
‘ScanEagles,’ said Walter pointing his finger straight up, ‘drones gathering information. Jackie’s gone to make arrangements for tonight.’
‘Is Steven mixed up in this?’
‘Steven and Mag have volunteered to play their part.’
I felt sick. ‘Please Walter, no. He’s only sixteen.’
‘Calm down, Trixie, he’s in no danger, they’re not on the front line. Stevo and Mag are very much our backroom boys, but they’ll play a vital role nonetheless, absolutely vital.’
‘Why, what are they doing?’
‘Providing the energy to power the lights. We can get round the shortage of diesel by using Mag’s water and wind turbines.’
‘The lights?’
‘And the cameras. For the action. Very important to capture everything, to provide a record of what’s really happening here. The boys will power the generators for the Outside Broadcast Units. The world will be watching. Everyone else will film whatever they can on their phones. This revolution will be televised.’
‘What revolution? Walter, what the hell are you going to do?’
‘We’re going to meet the invaders and resist them.’
‘But how can you possibly resist them?’
‘Och, not for long, just long enough to get the votes in and counted.’
‘You’re still going ahead with the referendum?’
‘We most certainly are,’ said Walter with his old chirpiness, ‘and this is where you come in.’
‘Oh no.’
I put my hands up.
‘I don’t come in anywhere.’
‘Ethecom have kindly donated their Routemaster as a mobile polling station. Jan will drive. You, if you agree, will accompany him round the farms and cottages. There is an international legal precedent for this; they did it in the Falklands when they had their referendum. While we hold them off on the loch, or at least prevent them from landing for as long as we can, Jenny’s cohort will set up a decoy polling operation in the village hall. Brenda and her cohort will man the real polling station, in the kitchen of the Caley. Are you with me thus far?’
‘No.’
Undaunted, Walter carried on, ‘It is important that you ask people to enter the bus to cast their vote, not on their doorstep and certainly not inside their homes. To strengthen the legality of the ballot, voters must voluntarily attend the polling station, do you understand?’
‘But Walter …’
‘Here’s a map and a list of eligible voters. Do not come back to the village until you have been round all of them. Do not use your phone. When you see the Faughie flag flying from the Caley flagpole, and only when you see the flag flying, enter the hotel kitchen from the back door. Guard that ballot box with your life.’
‘No chance.’
‘Ok,’ he relented and switched to a less dramatic tone, ‘you don’t have to guard it with your life. Just make sure that you give the box only to Brenda.’
‘Walter, there are two sides to this. There was a lot of grumbling at that meeting. I don’t know if you noticed but people are getting fed up with this. That Luxembourg ruling knocked the stuffing out of everyone. You heard them, they’re saying we don’t have the skill or experience to run things and we’re too small to make it on our own.’
‘Ok, let’s take that point by point. Point one: Lesley Riddoch tackled this in her book Blossom. She said that if we believe in our own capability we can rebuild from the ground up, because it can’t be transformed from the top down. From here on the ground in Faughie, to quote the cliché, “the only way is up”. Point two: in terms of acreage, Faughie is small, but with the technology available to us – global markets and communication and what have you – those limits are mostly in our minds. Small is beautiful, each person’s vote is a greater percentage of the whole; it carries more weight. Sorry to keep coming up with quotes, Trixie, but I’ve just thought of another beezer: Alasdair Gray said in Lanark, “the vaster the social unit the less possibility of true democracy”.’
‘The quotes are great, Walter, honestly, I’m impressed that you can carry all that around in your head, but the bottom line is: what if people vote against independence? You’ve got to admit, the odds are stacked against it, there seems no point now. You can do all this running around, quote all the quotes you like, but what if the box comes back full of No votes?’
Walter stopped and thought about that for a moment as he stroked Bouncer’s head. Then he smiled and shrugged. ‘Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. Maybes aye, maybes naw,’ he said, ‘that’s democracy for you.’
Chapter 70
As soon as I got back to the house I collared Steven.
‘Haw you,’ I said, right in front of his Claymore pals, ‘I want a word with you.’
His pals deserted him, melting away out of the room. The big Highland warriors that were about to face an invading force were scared of me.
‘Consider yourself grounded. You’re going to stay here with me and we are going to have a wee night in the house – watch a video, have a bit of family time. Why not invite Morag over to have dinner with us?’
Steven laughed and shook his head.
‘You know, Trixie, I can’t take you seriously when you start that disciplinarian shite.’
‘You watch your mouth!’
‘That’s what you’re worried about? My mouth?’
He shook his head again, as if I was a lost cause.
‘Look, Steven, there’s no use lying to me, I know what’s going on,’ I said.
‘Well, if you know, then there’s no use lying, is there?’
He had me there.
‘Well, I … och I don’t know what to do!’ I wailed.
‘Look, I understand,’ he said, as if he were the adult, ‘you’re just trying to do your job protecting me and it’s sweet. I appreciate it.’
‘Please, son, don’t go, I’m scared, please.’
I burst out crying again but
the tears that had been so effective with Jackie made no impact on Steven. He didn’t hold my hand or let me cry on his shoulder, but at least he didn’t leave the room.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, once I’d got my sobbing under control. Once I realised that he wouldn’t bend, ‘I’m really scared about what’s going to happen.’
‘Go back to Glasgow. I’ll be ok.’
‘I’m not leaving here without you, Steven, we’ve been through this. I don’t know what to do!’
‘Well then, just do what Walter asks of you. Or not. Either way is fine. I’ll still love you, you’ll still be my mum.’
‘But what if …’
‘Look, the worst that’ll happen is that we’ll be arrested.’
‘But Steven,’ I wailed, ‘I can’t get arrested; you can’t get arrested, you’ll have a criminal record! What about uni; what about your future?’
‘I’ve told you, my future’s here. Look, Mag’s waiting for me, I need to go.’
Left with nothing else, I started crying again, not howling any more but weeping, and now he came and cuddled me.
‘I’m glad you’re staying, Mum,’ he whispered.
*
Jan pulled the bus up outside and waited. I thought he’d come into the house and try to talk me into it at least, but he’d probably been briefed by Walter. The house was empty, the Claymores had left, tooled up to the teeth. They each gave me a hug as they left and told me not to worry; Dave promised they wouldn’t do anything stupid or heroic, but it was an emotional farewell.
As soon as they left I went to the hall cupboard and rummaged around behind the boots until I found what I was looking for stuffed down a welly. Whisky. There were maybe three fingers left in the bottle that I had planked one night after an intense poker game when nobody was looking. Three fingers was too much to down in a wannie, but too little to leave. I unscrewed the lid, held the bottle to my lips and finished it in two long exhilarating slugs.
Jan left the engine running outside; the fried fish and chip smell of the recycled vegetable oil was starting to permeate the house, making my mouth water, and still he wouldn’t come in. I didn’t want Bouncer getting mixed up in this so I left him sleeping, found the Extra Strong Mints and grabbed my jacket.
