The Great Scottish Land Grab Book 3: The Great Scottish Land Grab, #3

Dedicated to Andy Wightman who has tirelessly

campaigned for land reform in Scotland and without whose original website –http://www.whoownsscotland.org.uk

the seed of this novel might have remained

buried forever.

––––––––

Saltire

The flag was not just cloth.

Ripped and torn by shot and sword, yet always repaired.

Even the blood soaked fibres just faded memories,

like the men who once bore the dual coloured flag.

A single battle remains. No slaughter, no weapons and no blood.

Just two strokes: A Cross.

A.J.C. 16/98/14

https://www.facebook.com/AJCWordsmith

AUTHORS NOTE

The Great Scottish Land Grab was serialized in three books over the summer of 2014, during the lead up to the referendum on Scottish independence.

Book two follows directly on from book one but the start of book three occurs before the end of book two.

The original order has been left intact.

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

The contract came as it usually did: a text to his phone, giving a link to a website which was open to the public. Nothing incongruous for him to be checking someone’s profile should he be in a public place. The photo was a typical head and shoulders, grayscale image, posed shot. The target was not smiling, fairly common for these sorts of photos. You want to sell your professionalism, not your sense of humour.

He had a secure account with an online storage provider. Actually secure, unlike most of the offerings the public received for free bundled with phones and operating systems. The folder he checked next was only accessible by one other person, a cut out whom he trusted implicitly and who didn’t know fully what she was part of.

The dark web had made it slightly easier to sell his services but he was still at risk if any authority penetrated the veil he hid under.

What was unusual was the location of the target. Tam Frost would be going home.

****

She sat watching the TV, the volume loud enough to hear but it was just background noise, with moving pictures to distract her. Shifting slightly to stop her legs going to sleep as she lay on the leather sofa, Irene heard the familiar noise of something being pushed through the letterbox.

Billy! She called.

No answer.

Colin!

No response.

Grimacing, she eased herself up off the sofa. Standing was painful but once she was up, she could make her way without too much pain. She put a hand out to an old wooden wall unit to steady herself and felt the dust under her fingers. Two weeks recovering from hurting her back and neither one of those lazy, good for nothings had done a single bit of house work except make her sandwiches and tea.

In the hallway she could see envelopes had fallen to the dirty floor. Steadying herself, she put a hand on the wall as she carefully lowered herself down, keeping her back straight. The pain had lessened considerably in the last week but every now and then she moved in the wrong way and regretted it.

She scooped up the envelopes and, in one smooth movement, stood. Light-headedness threatened her balance and she almost dropped the envelopes.

Closing her eyes, Irene breathed slowly until the sensation passed. If those boys were asleep upstairs she was going to give them a hiding, pain in her back or not.

She made her way back down the hallway and went into the small kitchen. Plates were piled up in the sink, a loaf of bread sat opened on the table with a tub of margarine next to it, a dirty knife abandoned on the table.

Laying the envelopes on a more or less clean bit of table, Irene checked the cupboard for a glass – none. Probably all up in the boys rooms, those that weren’t in the sink or left sitting out collecting rain in the garden.

There was a sole mug in the next cupboard. She checked it before filling it with water, then carried the mug to the table before heading back into the sitting room for her tablets. The doctor had prescribed co-codamol which was supposed to be stronger than paracetamol. It hadn’t seemed to make much difference at all the first day but by the second she had been able to sleep for an hour or two at a time.

Irene slowly took these back into the kitchen and gingerly sat down.

She wasn’t supposed to take more tablets for another fifteen minutes but all that walking around must have used up the chemicals in her system.

She palmed two and swallowed them down with the water, trying not to gag on the size of the tablets.

That done, she picked up the first envelope – a bank statement. Time was she didn’t need one or have one. Her benefit check would come and she’d head down the post office to pick up her cash. All this rubbish about bank accounts... It was just a way to trap you in their system.

Opening it she stared at the statement for a while. Numbers had never been her strength. Nothing much had ever been her strength, except getting pregnant. That she had been pretty good at. First time she had sex was age fifteen. Nine months later Billy was born. Eight months and twenty nine days after the last time she saw that scum bag who had screwed her and walked away without even a thank you.

The next time she had been more careful. Made Jimmy Roper wear a condom. They hadn’t mentioned in sex ed that condoms weren’t reliable. Colin baked away real easy for the next nine months.

She’d never risked it again. Reasoned that some people caught pregnancy like others caught colds.

It had been tough at the start. Friends turning their back on her, even though several of them were themselves pregnant within a year or two. The benefits system hadn’t been as good back then. She’d got by, somehow. Her own Mum had basically looked after her.

When Colin had finally gone to school she’d tried to find a job but few places wanted to take on a twenty year old with no qualifications or work experience. She worked as a cleaner for a while. Had even been offered a job in a factory but they wanted her to do shifts and she couldn’t do that with the kids.

Then the benefits system changed and she was offered a house of her own and income support. She had enough to live on, to bring up Billy and Colin. Nothing extra. Nothing for emergencies, for times when they tore their trousers or lost a shoe. How could you lose a shoe? Somehow Billy had... And Colin, more than once.

But there had always been people willing to lend her money.

Irene stared at the bank statement. There seemed to be plenty of money in the account. She’d never really understood why they put a dash in front of the numbers. Or why her card no longer let her take money out.

****

Seeing the sign for the coffee shop ahead, Helen slowed and checked her reflection in a window. She’d only just managed to squeeze into the trousers she was wearing that morning. It had been getting harder and harder over the last couple of weeks to find pairs that fit. The stress of the campaign and not eating properly were finally beginning to affect her.

She would just have to cut back, find some time to exercise. After this morning...

Lunchtime was always busy but Helen was able to see an empty table as she ordered for herself and Karen. The girl at the till said she would carry the Panini over when they were ready.

Helen negotiated her way to the table with a tray balancing two large cappuccinos. After she’d taken a sip of her coffee she checked her phone, saw a message from Karen: running a few minutes late. That was okay. Give her time to get her breath back.

That was another thing. She had found herself being short of breath occasionally. She had put it down to stress, more stress than she had thought possible over the last couple of months, but she couldn’t be that unfit already, could she?

She needed a proper break, her and Robert to get away, though when that would be possible she had no idea. If he was actually elected would things quieten down or just get busier? MSPs did take holidays, didn’t they? They must do, that was when the paparazzi caught them on some millionaire’s yacht or bathing topless on some secluded beach.

She suddenly looked around, was anyone watching her? She’d been lucky so far, had very little to do with the election campaign. Robert had taken the brunt of the media attention and she’d been able to mostly get on with her job. Would that change? Did she want it to change?

Everything had been all about Robert’s vision, his priorities up till now, but at the Cafe Politics she’d started discussing issues she dealt with at work; tried to see if anyone else cared about the homeless. She was relieved that many did. Not everyone, but she already knew that. Enough though, that she had begun to wonder how they could use Cafe Politics, use Robert’s proposed referendums to change government policy.

It wouldn’t even need to be as if she was using undue influence. Robert wanted every citizen to have a voice. That included her, didn’t it?

****

Karen saw Helen and walked over. Helen stood and Karen gave her a quick hug and then sat down, able to relax for a short while.

How are you coping? Karen asked.

I’m not.

Helen had said it jokingly but Karen saw her look away. Saw her face tense slightly as her smile faltered for an instant.

You?

Karen took a sip of her cappuccino as she thought. I work normal hours and then am out most evenings at Cafe Politics. If it wasn’t for weekends I don’t know what I’d do.

I really need to go shopping. I just don’t know when I will have the time.

Maybe we should take a Saturday off? Go into town.

Helen nodded. I’d love that. Hardly any of my clothes fit me anymore. The stress must be getting to me.

To us all. Not long now though...

****

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

The last two weeks she’d sent Billy and Colin to the food bank but today Irene wanted to go with them. The doctor had said her back would heal quicker if she gradually did more walking.

By the time she reached the end of her street, Irene thought her doctor must have been having her on. She was in agony. Billy stood impatiently tapping his foot while she rested, leaning against a lamp post. She didn’t know what he was in such a hurry for. When they got back home he’d just disappear in his room.

She’d stopped suggesting the boys think about getting their own place when the bedroom tax came in. Her boys living in the same home as her was the only thing enabling her to survive on the little benefits she still got. That and the food bank.

Colin offered her his arm but she didn’t want to look like a cripple. Though, as she set off again she thought back to the doctor’s advice about using walking sticks to take the load.

There was a bus into town but the cost of tickets was as much as a bag of food and even in pain, Irene couldn’t bring herself to use the bus.

She saw Billy and Colin exchange glances but gave them each a look that told them to keep their thoughts to themselves.

She’d allowed half an hour to walk in but by the time they approached the church hall it had taken them over an hour. The queue of people outside had long since gone in and Irene felt a momentary panic that they’d taken too long and there would be no food left.

Somewhere back on the street she’d started feeling light headed and had finally taken Colin’s arm. Then a minute later she grabbed Billy and ended up carefully walking into the hall with both her boys held close.

Irene was relieved to see there were still lots of people inside. Most of them sitting on benches around the hall with cups of soup, tea or coffee, and paper plates with sandwiches.

Tim was on the door. Over the months Irene had gradually learnt most of their names. Tim was okay. Some of them she suspected were secretly judging her behind fake smiles. He gave them a ticket. Billy took it. They were in the queue.

The boys walked her over to a free bench and helped her sit down, then went to get some soup and sandwiches.

Irene focused on the floor. This was the worst part of her week. The rest of the time she could shut out the worry, the fear. But here, in this hall, she couldn’t lie. She had no future, no way to change the mess she’d made of her life. Thirty eight years old and all she had to show for it were two boys who had never worked and maybe never would.

Irene, is it?

Irene looked up.

I’m Sylvia. We’ve spoken once or twice when I’ve been handing out the parcels.

Irene remembered. She didn’t come here to get sympathy, tried to avoid speaking to people, ate, took what was offered and left. But she couldn’t be rude. What if they didn’t let her come back?

You seemed to be in a bit of pain when you came in...?

My back. I slipped a disc last month. Still hurts.

Sylvia’s expression grew concerned. Are you travelling far to get here?

Irene looked away. They took addresses when they gave out the parcels, she supposed to stop families getting more than one but even so, she was reluctant to say where she lived. Takes me half an hour normally to walk. Took longer tonight.

I can imagine.

Irene doubted that. Then she saw Sylvia smiling.

Don’t believe me, huh? Fair enough. I was helping my husband move our sofa. Lifted it wrong or bent wrong or something and my back went pop. Couldn’t move for two days. Irene saw Sylvia’s smile fade as she described it. Then Sylvia shuddered. Took me six months before I felt I was walking normally. Probably a year before I stopped worrying about how I moved. At the time I didn’t think anyone understood how much agony I was in.

Irene looked away as she felt her eyes fill up.

Do you have anyone to talk to about it?

Not since Mum died. Irene desperately wanted Sylvia to go away. She just needed to get the food and go.

It’s okay. Sylvia sighed. If it would help, I or someone else here is willing to listen. You only need to ask.

Irene managed to nod.

Sylvia sat in silence until Irene began to wonder if she’d ever leave.

Let me give you a lift home. Sylvia suddenly said.

No. We’ll manage. Irene didn’t know why she didn’t want to accept the offer. The thought of having to walk back being helped by Billy and Colin was horrible. She saw Sylvia studying her.

Do you know why we help out here?

Irene shook her head.

Any of us could be in your position. If we were we would want people around us willing to help. We don’t buy extra groceries for this place because we are rich, we don’t go without ourselves because we don’t need, we give because we see ourselves when we look at you and we hope that when we need, someone else will be willing to help us. She paused. Don’t go. Wait until I’m finished helping and I’ll drive you home. Okay?

Irene fought an internal battle without knowing why she was fighting it. Sylvia waited and eventually Irene agreed.

The boys brought over soup for her once Sylvia