I hide my groan. My sister likes a sob story, especially one that involved England as the demon.
“Is it true?”
She glares at me. “There’s no point in having this conversation if you’re going to question everything I tell you.”
Which basically means she doesn’t know.
“I’ve accepted a job with his group.”
I look up from my beer. “What job?”
“Secretary.” She shrugs.
“What sort of group is it?” I brace myself. Majken has been involved with a lot of groups as a volunteer; animal rights, animal cruelty, the rights of a fucking cauliflower to not be sprayed with pesticide. Each week when I was growing up she had a new cause to fight for. Each week I pretended that she was normal.
“Pro-European.”
“Europe First?” It was an international group, political. Members stood in elections across the continent and in the European Parliament if they could be elected. But it was also a front for extremists; people who wanted an excuse to use violence and force. Just like any cause.
She smiles. Sips her water. Probably ethically sourced with a prayer to say thank you at the well.
“Watch what you’re getting into.”
“I’m not getting into anything.”
She knows damn well what she’s getting into.
“Majjie…”
“Ben.” She shakes her head. “It’s all fine. And I’m supporting something that I believe in. You know I’ve always wanted to do that. Iain’s a good leader. He’s onto something with this.”
“I thought it was someone else who led the party?”
She smiles again and I know she’s told me more than she was meaning to.
“Iain leads a different section.”
“If I search for Europe First will I find his name associated with it?”
“You know that these groups are bigger than what they portray to the public. And far more influential.” She stubs out her cigarette. We’re sitting outside a pub in Glasgow. She’s having her bottled water, purified by well-paid rocks or something and I’m drinking what tastes like Glasgow piss but I don’t care because I have an actual bed to sleep in tonight instead of just on fucking sand.
And no one is shooting at me. Yet. Because it is Glasgow and shit happens here.
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“I didn’t say I was seeing him.”
My laugh is thick and cold. “Pull the other fucking one, Majken. It’s got fucking Christmas decorations on.”
She pulls a face that makes her look constipated.
“Iain understands our background. You should meet him.”
This was where she tried to convert me.
“The whole issue that was in England which took Mum from us – he can see how that can be avoided in the future. It’s a long-term plan. There are other aims first.”
She looks dreamy. It worries me. Majjie has always been the one to fall for people’s schemes.
