The Petitioners

by Perry, Sheila

  I gave a heave and clambered back to my feet.

  The security guard stayed down. He had a hand to his ear and his face, in contrast to Mr McWhittle’s, was contorted in apparent agony.

  I looked round the room again. There were others with hands to their ears. They didn’t seem to be suffering in quite the same way as the security guard, apart from the woman who wasn’t my mother, who had slumped over the table in front of her.

  ‘Listen to me,’ I said as loudly as I could. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Brad McWhittle advancing on me. I pushed past some chairs, ducked round behind the tables where the delegates were sitting, and carried on speaking. ‘He’s been hypnotising you all through the implants in your ears. I’m guessing most of the effects will wear off quite quickly. Then you’ll be able to do what you should have done in the first place and throw him out of this meeting. He may have been a figure of power in the past – before the storm – but he doesn’t have any place in our future.’

  I paused for breath. I found myself trembling like the orphan of a storm.

  ‘There are important decisions to be made that are going to affect everybody’s future for years to come,’ I continued, without even knowing where the words were going to come from, ‘and you need to be sensible and have a proper debate without just following party lines that were never very much use to start with. Nobody has ever been in this exact situation before, so you have to think about it in a completely new way. There won’t be any place for misguided outdated loyalties or party slogans or blindly following a leader. You’re the only ones left, so it’s up to you.’

  My mother gave me an approving nod and took over where I had left off.

  Of course Brad McWhittle was still never going to be ejected without a fight, and neither was the woman who wasn’t my mother. But even once that was all over, and the two of them had been escorted firmly from the room by a few of Tanya’s private army, or the English troops, as I should probably start thinking of them, there was a lot more fighting to go. There was an attempt to have Tanya and me ejected, but that fizzled out. They must have decided we weren’t a serious threat to them. Of course they were wrong in Tanya’s case, but I wasn’t going to be the one who pointed that out.

  A man called Frank McDonald took over in the chair, if that’s what the position was called, but even that simple act was the outcome of various resolutions and counter-resolutions and caused quite a lot of voices to be raised at one bend of the ‘U’ where it seemed the militants and discontents hung out. I amused myself by trying to match people with their political parties. The ones who had protested loudest about Brad McWhittle’s eviction must be the members of his own party, the Eco-Nationalists. There were only two of them, though, a man and a woman, and they were shouted down quite easily by some wild-looking men from what I couldn’t help thinking of as the naughty corner. I thought they might represent the Scottish Republican Socialists. There was a quiet little woman at the side who didn’t say anything for a while. Was she from the weirdly named Neo-Puritans? She wore dark colours and looked a bit like a nun, but I wasn’t sure.

  It took another lot of resolutions and counter-resolutions before they agreed that my mother could be present, and yet another debate before they agreed she might be allowed to speak. If this was what politics was like, I hoped I never had any more to do with it. Whatever genetic mutation made Mum so interested in it must have passed me by. On the other hand, I supposed I should feel honoured in a way to be present at these discussions which might decide the whole future of the country.

  If it had a future, and not just a past.

  EMMA

  Unexpectedly, transforming myself in an instant from doting mother to consummate political animal was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It was unexpected mostly because I had never thought of myself as a doting mother in the first place until that moment when Jen, obviously taking her courage in both hands, stood up and spoke to the assembled surviving leaders of Scottish politics as if she had been born for this moment.

  Maybe she had.

  Anyway, I had a hard act to follow when I started to speak. Maybe they were still a bit dazed after their abrupt release from Brad McWhittle’s hypnotic power, but they listened meekly enough for a while as I outlined the petition project and the advantages of entering negotiations with England at this point.

  Of course it couldn’t last.

  There were mostly token objections from Janet Drummond, Frank McDonald and a couple of others in the same party, the Republican Nationalists. They had a valid point when they questioned the role of the monarchy in future, and another one when they accused the English of wanting to move millions of their own survivors into the Highlands.

  ‘The land can’t support that many,’ said Frank when he took the floor. ‘Everybody knows that. It goes right back to the Clearances. And no doubt His Majesty would be wanting some space left for his grouse moors.’

  ‘Right enough,’ shouted one of the Republican Socialists. ‘He’ll be wanting to hunt peasants outside the grouse season and all.’

  ‘Pheasants,’ said Frank.

  ‘No – peasants.’

  The group in the corner laughed raucously. I wondered if they had managed to get their hands on some alcohol. Maybe the castle housed secret whisky stores left over from royalist times.

  Frank sighed and frowned and carried on regardless. ‘Is there a timescale to this project of yours?’

  ‘It isn’t my project,’ I said. ‘I’ve come into things quite late on, well after it started. Maybe we should bring in some of the envoys at this point. They’ll be able to explain it better than I can.’

  ‘Envoys from England?’ said Frank. His tone implied I might as well have suggested bringing in Martians.

  ‘They don’t have three heads,’ I said sharply.

  ‘Aye, but maybe they think ours button up the back,’ said one of the Eco-Nationalists, who had freaked me out a bit until then by glowering silently from the back of the room.

  ‘We should at least give them a hearing,’ said Janet Drummond, one of the few women in the room. What had happened to all the strong Scottish women we used to have in government? Surely they couldn’t all have been out in the storm while their menfolk were tucked up cosily in safe locations?

  After a moment’s thought I realised the strong Scottish women were mostly of a past generation. The new parties that had splintered off from the mainstream had been driven, almost without exception, by young fiery men with lots of time on their hands, inspired by the arrival of Scottish independence to demand more and more reforms, amounting in many cases to revolution. The exception was…

  ‘Could I just say something?’ said the quiet woman in the corner. I couldn’t say I recognised her, but then as a mere civil servant, albeit with my own department for a while, I hadn’t always noticed the people on the fringes of politics.

  ‘Certainly,’ I said, understanding that she was actually waiting for permission from me. She stood up. Her voice was so quiet that I hoped she wouldn’t be drowned out by the rowdy group in the corner.

  ‘It goes without saying that we’re all in mourning for everybody who has been lost. But this could be our big opportunity to make a new Scotland exactly the way we want it, without any outside interference. There are few enough of us now to make it possible to live off the land, using some of the deserted settlements where our ancestors lived, and not depending on modern technology or gadgets or great scientific advances or oil revenues… We could be completely self-sufficient.’

  She sat down again suddenly.

  There was an uneasy silence in the room. Well, it was uneasy on my part, anyway. I had a horrible feeling that the Republican Socialists might want to take her up on those ideas.

  ‘That’d only work if everybody was equal,’ said one of them cautiously.

  ‘Equal plots of land for all,’ said another, nodding.

  ‘To each according to his need,’ said a third, although
what that had to do with it I didn’t know.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Janet Drummond. ‘We’d be setting ourselves back two hundred years. At least. Three or four hundred, more like. You’ll be suggesting those settlements of yours are run by the Kirk next – and then where will we be.’

  ‘The Kirk would play a part,’ the other woman admitted. By then I knew she must be one of the Neo-Puritans. You didn’t hear much of them, although I seemed to recall that they had managed to get a couple of their people elected to Parliament a few years back.

  At least this mention of the Kirk shut up the Republican Socialists for the time being.

  I took advantage of the temporary lull to say briskly, ‘Well, I think this would be a good time to bring in the envoys.’

  That was the cue for a lot more muttering, including one almost inaudible ‘Send in the clowns’, but no open dissent, so I took it as general agreement.

  There were more envoys than I expected. About half as many as there were politicians in the room. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  Will had joined them, and they seemed to have elected him as spokesman, I suppose because of his Scottish accent and unthreatening manner. Quietly and calmly, he talked us all through the purpose of the petition and the process of collecting signatures, emphasising that people hadn’t been coerced, bullied or bribed into signing. Then they announced the results. It was a bit like the Eurovision Song Contests I remembered from when I was a child, only a lot more nerve-racking. If any of the envoys were to announce ‘null points’ from his or her area, I knew the outcome would lose its legitimacy.

  In fact the results made me blink, more than once.

  It seemed that on this occasion, as had happened a few times in the past, the people themselves had more sense than their elected representatives. The fact that the last elections had happened long before the storm may have had something to do with that.

  Will himself went first.

  ‘Central Highlands,’ he said. ‘Five thousand, six hundred and four. Seventy per cent agreement.’

  ‘Glasgow,’ said an elderly woman whose hands were shaking. ‘Ten thousand, one hundred and sixty-three. Sixty five per cent agreement.’

  ‘Edinburgh.’ This from a young man not much older than Jen. ‘Six thousand, seven hundred and one. Eighty-five per cent agreement.’

  I watched the faces of the politicians as the envoys spoke. Janet Drummond and her colleague Frank McDonald looked carefully bland. I suppose they were envisaging the King riding over the hills at the head of an English army, taking pot-shots at grouse along the way. The Neo-Puritan woman drew into herself, head down, hands folded, as if resigned to early martyrdom. The two Eco-Nationalists maintained their expressions of scornful superiority, in contrast to the thunderous frowns worn by the Republican Socialists.

  At the end of it, after Mark Sutherland and Jeff had delivered their results –from the Borders and the North of Scotland respectively, so they had covered plenty of ground between them – Frank McDonald rose to his feet.

  ‘It seems the people have spoken,’ he said.

  ‘We’ve only got their word for that!’ shouted one of the young men at the noisy side of the table.

  ‘You’re welcome to get an independent validator to check the results,’ said Will calmly. ‘Or we could re-do the collection of signatures. It would take a while though, and I’m not sure that the English government want to wait that long.’

  ‘Screw the English,’ said the same young man. ‘This is our future. We can’t work to their timetable.’

  ‘There’s an alternative,’ said Jeff.

  ‘Oh, yes, and what’s that?’ said another of the men in the Republican Socialist corner.

  ‘Annexation,’ said Jeff bluntly.

  ‘What?’

  There was uproar in the room. Once it calmed very slightly, Frank McDonald spoke above the mutterings that remained.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean, young man?’

  ‘It means our government would be forced to take over Scotland,’ said Jeff. I noticed Tanya and two of her men tensing themselves, as if to spring across the room and protect him if the need arose. ‘We can’t put up with anarchy and chaos on our borders. We don’t have the capacity to deal with that as well as rebuilding. If we annex the country, you will have none of the advantages you’ve had up to now. No separate legal system. No power to set your own taxes and provide enhanced welfare payments. No education system of your own. All that would be out the window.’

  ‘But that’s not fair!’ gasped Janet Drummond, and then she must have realised how childish she sounded, for she closed her mouth abruptly and didn’t say any more for some time.

  ‘Unfair or not, that’s the reality of it,’ said Jeff. ‘On the other hand, if we can negotiate reunion, it would be on broadly similar terms to the first treaty of union. Up to you. No pressure.’

  ‘No pressure?’ said one of the young men in the Republican Socialist camp. ‘Ha! We’d invade England before we let that happen.’

  Jeff paused before he spoke. He must have known his words would be incendiary, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

  ‘Oh yes? You and whose army?’

  6. Special Delivery

  GAVIN

  ‘If we’re going to get the petition delivered, we’ll have to work fast,’ said Jeff, who by all accounts had escaped the wrath of the politicians by the skin of his teeth. We were on the road to Spittal of Glenshee by then, having hired a horse and cart at one of the farms to speed our journey. Declan claimed there was still a rebel stronghold there, of sorts, or at least a way to get food and rudimentary medical care.

  ‘How are we going to do that?’ said Dan. I wondered what he thought of the idea of presenting a petition to the English. Although he had worked against the Scottish authorities in the past, I didn’t know if that was just because he didn’t like the way they were going about things, or whether there was something deeper, such as a distaste for all authority.

  Jeff smiled. ‘We go to where the English government is, and hand it in to them… We could send it electronically if the infrastructure still existed. But it’s all so flaky right now that carrier pigeon would be more reliable. Delivering it in person is the best bet.’

  ‘What are the chances of the English accepting reunion?’ said Emma suddenly. She had been unnaturally quiet up to now, so I suppose any sign of interest must be positive. ‘After all, Scotland’s in ruins. I doubt if we even have enough grazing land left to sustain sheep production, and the oil and fish stocks ran out a good while ago. What have they got to gain by going into another partnership with us?’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone I told you this, right?’ said Jeff. ‘But England’s a bit of a ruin too. I reckon we need to put our resources together to get through this… Look on the bright side – we’re better off than the Netherlands. And Denmark.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘How do you think this is going to work?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue,’ said Jeff with a shrug. ‘That’s not my problem. I’ve only been sent here to encourage you to take the first steps. We can’t possibly predict what’ll happen next.’

  We stayed the night with the remains of Declan’s rebel group at Spittal of Glenshee. I could tell these were the diehards, who wouldn’t want to fall in with the residual Scottish government but who would quite likely fight hard to keep our independence, such as it was. They were just resistant to any kind of authority. We didn’t even bother trying to collect more audio-signatures there. But it was a pleasant enough break in the journey.

  I wasn’t surprised either when Declan and Fiona told us they were staying put. These were their people, after all. They had friends here, and they could develop a common purpose, even if it was only to grumble about the terms of reunion or the expected influx of English settlers.

  ‘How about you, Dan?’ I enquired as we were about to leave. I had my heart in my mouth but I was desperately trying to appear nonchalant.


  ‘I thought I might tag along with you for a while,’ he said, equally casually.

  ‘Thank goodness for that!’ said Emma, giving him a quick hug which he of course resisted. ‘Are you coming too, Jen?’

  For some reason she glanced at Jeff, who was on the outskirts of our little group, having tactfully withdrawn himself from the family discussion.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said at last. ‘What else would I do? There’s nowhere to go.’

  I remembered her university application, all those months ago. When would she get the chance at a higher education again? On the other hand, if we did go for reunion with the rest of Britain, maybe new doors would open for her – maybe to places that weren’t so picky about letting in people who happened to have been born in England.

  ‘We’ll find somewhere,’ I promised her.

  ‘Hey,’ Dan protested. ‘This is getting sloppy again. I’m only coming with you to make sure you don’t do anything really stupid.’

  ‘When have you ever been able to stop me before?’ I said to him.

  At least it sharpened up the mood a little. I expect Jeff was grateful.

  ‘I wish you’d stay here,’ I said to Emma.

  ‘Well, I’m not going to, so that’s too bad,’ she said, much as I had expected her to say. ‘Jeff came to fetch me because he thought I could help. The least I can do is to give it a go.’

  Jeff looked at us standing there in a row. The dysfunctionally happy family. He smiled.

  ‘I need all of you,’ he said, but didn’t elaborate. I guessed he was afraid of getting sucked down in the excess of sentiment that seemed to be in the air.

  We had borrowed a horse and cart again for Emma – and, to be honest, for some of the rest of us. I wasn’t getting any younger, after all.

  Will accompanied us down towards Perth for a while. We were hoping Declan’s friend with the fishing boat was still waiting. We planned to try for a few more signatures in Perth, or the higher-lying parts of it anyway, and then to set off southwards. Jeff warned us there might be pirates or other hazards along the way, and that we would probably find chaos when we got there, but it still seemed worth a try. After all, I felt as if we had been through the worst that an independent Scotland had to offer. Linking ourselves back to the rest of the British Isles might even improve our chances, if we were lucky.