Page 79 of Playing to Win

“See for yourself.” Jeremy handed over his phone. “Try not to scream. We don’t want to frighten the children. Though God knows they should fear for their future.”

Andrew couldn’t scream if he wanted to. All his breath had been stolen by the pollster’s headline.

‘Yes’ campaign lead at 2 in Scottish Referendum

For the first time ever, Yes was ahead. Scotland wanted independence.

CHAPTERTWENTY

STANDINGOUTSIDETHEDrumchapel tower blocks, Colin scowled down at Andrew’s latest tweet.

Lord Andrew Sunderland: Congrats, fellow Scots, we’re famous! The whole world is now watching our descent into madness. #laughingstock #VoteNo

But even Andrew’s derision—and the danger it might put himself in—couldn’t dim Colin’s euphoria over the latest YouGov poll: 51% Yes, 49% No.

He’d arrived early for the canvass—which he was helping coordinate, being a local resident—and found the carpark flooded with new volunteers, all in a party mood. Saltire flags flapped in the breeze, which carried scattered strains of “Flower of Scotland” and other patriotic songs. Dozens of smiles reflected Colin’s own feeling of dazed disbelief.

We can do this.

The tide had turned the last two weeks, after the second Salmond-Darling debate and Better Together’s release of an ad suggesting women shouldn’t trouble their wee minds with politics when there were dirty dishes to wash. Meanwhile, the hard work of dozens of grassroots organizations was finally paying off. Though it was the Scottish National Party who had originally asked for the referendum, the independence movement’s strength lay in the men and women on the ground—people who belonged to no party. People new to politics, shedding lifelong cynicism. People like Colin, who’d never dared hope he could make a difference.

He was sitting at the main signup table, dispensing canvassing materials to excited volunteers, when a hand brushed his shoulder and a familiar voice spoke his name.

Colin looked up to see the return of Adam Smith.

He leaped from his chair and hugged Andrew. “You made it!” Despite his lover’s tweets and disguise, Colin was thrilled to see him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he whispered in Andrew’s ear, noting the absence of cologne.

“Of course I came. Mind my glasses.” He stepped away and straightened the black frames, then gave the three high-rise tower blocks a look of trepidation.

“Don’t be feart,” Colin whispered to him. “Poverty’s not contagious.”

Colin’s original plan had been to take Andrew canvassing in one of the nicer areas of Drumchapel, not the high tower blocks where he lived. But the toff’s callous tweets showed he needed a dose of reality.

He introduced “Adam” to Roland, the local campaign coordinator. To Andrew’s credit, he didn’t hesitate to shake Roland’s hand or take the materials offered. “This is my first canvass,” he said. “I’ll try not to make a state of it.”

Roland smiled. “You’ve a good coach here in Colin. But I always have to warn the new guys—don’t flip anyone from Yes to No by being a zealous prick.”

Before Andrew could get any ideas, Colin steered him away from the table. “Fancy a contest? See who can turn more No voters to Yes?”

“Ugh, I couldn’t live with myself. The fact I’m not tossing these leaflets into the nearest bin is a testament to my integrity.”

“You sure? Your choice of prize.”

Andrew sighed and adjusted his glasses. His face was drawn this morning, with purple-gray semi-circles beneath each eye. Perhaps he was simply knackered after the late-night flight from Turkey, but he looked…depressed.

“If I win,” Andrew said, “you must never speak of independence in my presence again.”

= = =

“Is this where you live?” Andrew asked Colin as they approached the tallest and shoddiest of the three tower blocks. Its facade was made of dilapidated ribbed concrete panels of the most ghastly brain-gray Andrew had ever seen.

“No, that’s ours.” Colin pointed to the middle tower, which like the one beyond it, featured a fresh palette of slate and white with blue accents. “The housing authority refurbished them last year. All new insulation, plus new windows we don’t need to hang blankets over to keep out the wind.” He opened the lobby door for Andrew. “This building here’s to be demolished.”

Andrew entered the lobby, which was as dismal as the exterior. “Where will these people live?”

“Elsewhere.” Colin examined the canvassing sheet on his clipboard. “Why do you care? They’re just ‘subsidy junkies,’ right?”

Andrew groaned. “What I meant in that one tweet was that Scotland as a nationlookslike subsidy junkies to the English. Because we each receive twelve hundred pounds more in benefits per year than the rest of the UK.”

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