Page 121 of Playing to Win

“I know, I know.” Andrew switched on STV in time to see that No had won Inverclyde by a mere eighty-six votes. When Colin slumped onto his side with a groan, Andrew said, “Let’s just shut it off and go to sleep.”

“You don’t walk away from a loved one on their death bed.” Colin took the remote control and clutched it like child with a teddy bear. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”

“Then I’ll make tea.” Andrew stood, taking the fleece blanket from the back of the sofa. “Or some brandy?”

Colin looked up at him with hollow eyes. “Tea. I’ve a match Saturday.”

Good lad, Andrew thought as he covered Colin with the blanket.

While the water boiled, another council area near Glasgow declared for Yes, bringing the national total to three. Hearing no comment on the result from Colin, Andrew wondered if his boyfriend had fallen asleep, and if so, whether he should wake him or let him have a brief escape from his misery.

Andrew returned to the sofa with tea just as the news presenter said, “We’re expecting results from Glasgow any minute, and I’m told they will be surprising.”

Colin sat up, wide awake. “What’s that mean? No one knows how Glasgow will vote, so how can we be surprised?” He set down his tea without drinking it and got up to pace. “If after all we’ve done, Glasgow votes No, I think it’ll kill me.”

Andrew didn’t bother sayingIt won’t kill youwhen Colin looked like a man awaiting a trip to the gallows.

First the broadcast tortured them with Perth and Kinross’s unexpectedly large No vote. But then the moment came. Andrew stood beside Colin, who took his hand, wrapping cold fingers around Andrew’s warm ones.

The graphic appeared on the screen. GLASGOW VOTES YES, it said. Fifty-four to forty-six percent.

Colin gave a half sob, half shout. “We did it!” He turned and hugged Andrew tight. “We fucking did it! Glasgow said Yes!” He ran to the window, lifted it, and shouted into the night. “I love you, Glasgoooooooowwww!”

Andrew went and curled his arms around Colin’s waist, feeling him tremble in his grasp. “You did that. Think of all the people you convinced. You made a difference.”

“It shouldn’t matter, because we’ve lost Scotland.” He gripped the edge of the windowsill and bounced on his toes. “But it does matter. It means this city is on the right side of history. This city is brave. This city is—” His voice choked, but he kept the tears in. “This city is so royally fucked.”

“What else is new? It goes on, and so will you. Now drink your tea.”

They kept watching, curled together under the flannel blanket, until the sky showed its first hints of light. There were no more Yes areas, just a steady stream of No results, most more decisive than expected. With each report, Colin flinched as if taking a punch in the stomach. But still he didn’t cry.

At ten past six, Andrew’s home council area of Fife reported, fifty-five percent for No. Now it was arithmetically impossible for Yes to win. Still Colin didn’t cry.

But when First Minister Alex Salmond, Colin’s hero and the public face of the Yes campaign, gave his concession speech, saying “Scotland has by a majority decided not, at this stage, to become an independent country,” Colin let out a low moan, a moan that grew in volume and strength until it became a keen.

Andrew pulled him close and rocked him gently, like he’d never done to another human. He wasn’t a nurturer by nature, yet this fierce footballer seemed to bring it out in him.

“How?” Colin said again and again as he sobbed, clutching Andrew’s shirt. His devastation rolled over them until tears came to Andrew’s eyes as well, and he found himself clinging to Colin in return, taking comfort as well as giving it.

They cried together until Salmond was gone, until the Prime Minister, David Cameron, took the stage at seven o’clock. Outside the sun was rising, gleaming on the university buildings across the square. A cruelly beautiful day awaited them.

Colin took one look at the Prime Minister, excused himself, then ran down the hall to the loo. Andrew shut the reception-room door to block the sound of Colin’s retching.

As he gathered the glasses, cups, and plates accumulated overnight, Andrew half listened to Cameron’s speech. Like Salmond’s before him, it was full of platitudes. There was talk of moving forward, working together, blah, blah, blah, promises to fulfill commitments made during the campaign’s last weeks…

He was washing a teacup when the Prime Minister said, “I have long believed that a crucial part missing from this national discussion is England.”

Oh no.Andrew turned to his country’s leader and whispered, “Don’t do this. Not today.” England did deserve more powers—unlike Scotland, they didn’t even have their own legislature—but to bring it up now, in the same breath as the defeat of Scottish independence, could drive a permanent wedge between the two nations.

Perhaps that was the intent.

Cameron continued. “The question of English votes for English laws requires a decisive answer.”

Andrew dropped the cup in the sink, where it shattered. He left it there as he stalked across the room to pick up his phone.

The corpse of independence wasn’t even cold, and already Cameron was using the victory to shaft his political opponents and weaken Scotland’s power in Parliament. It seemed a brilliant, calculated move, but Andrew knew it would backfire. If the Prime Minister thought Scotland was cowed, he was in for a rude awakening.

Starting right now.

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