Referendum by Campbell Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

registration number Arbogast had tracked down his dad’s address and today was the day he’d decided they’d meet face to face – his father had some explaining to do.
    But before he left he wanted to tell his mother, even though she wouldn’t understand, he felt he owed her that. In the past she’d wanted nothing more to do with his father, James, but even still, she’d kept his surname – he could never figure out why.
    At Woodlands Care Home he sat and watched as his mother stared off into space. She’d become smaller, more shrivelled in the last 12 months and he felt that she might finally be starting the long journey to the end of her life. She’d been rotting in the home for the best part of a decade and it had broken Arbogast’s heart to see her fade away. Now he just hoped she would die peacefully, that her mental exile would soon end.
    “Hi mum, I had to come to see you, but I can’t stay long.” As usual he watched for any sign of reaction but there was none. Ella Arbogast was dressed in a pale yellow cardigan and a plain white dress. The nurses still styled her hair in the way she used to wear it, hammering home the fact that this was a woman out of time.
    “I know you’ve been seeing dad. I know he’s been here and I know where he lives. I’m going to see him, mum. I have to talk to him about the past, ask what happened – why he didn’t stick around. I’ve got no-one left now, just you.”
    His mother seemed to twitch slightly, although he’d probably just imagined it. “I know you don’t want me to see him, but it’s been so long and I might not have much time left to do this. I hope you understand.”
    He took his mother’s hands in his and watched her for what seemed a long time. He felt a slight movement, like she was trying to tell him it was OK. It was probably wishful thinking but he took the thought with him as he started the journey to England.
     
    ***
     
    Niall Murphy was making fresh connections fast; it seemed Glasgow really was a friendly city after all. He’d arranged to meet the reporter in a bar in the West End. McPhabbs was part of a Georgian terrace, with beer gardens at the front and back. It was hot and the bar was packed outside. Inside was a different story, with empty booths offering the perfect opportunity to have a discreet chat. He saw Sandy come in and motioned for him to come over.
    “You’re late,” Niall wasn’t happy at being kept waiting. He didn’t like the look of the man; typical middle aged reporter – beige chinos and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was carrying a black bag. “I hope that’s not recording equipment.”
    Sandy was taken aback by the onslaught, “I’m just here to see what you have to say. You know what I want.”
    They were interrupted by the waiter who asked if they would be having lunch, but they ordered drinks instead; two pints – both men hoping the alcohol would help get the conversation flowing.
    “You said you knew about Graeme Donald?”
    Murphy nodded, “That’s right, we go way back. And I know you’ve been poking around into his past. Seems like you got stung for getting too close last year.”
    Sandy was nodding, he knew he didn’t have to explain, the information was all over the internet. “I can help you find out more, but it’ll come at a price.”
    “I work for the BBC. I can’t pay you for information.” Sandy thought he’d wasted his time; this was just another weasel looking for a handout.
    “The BBC can’t, but you can. You’ll need to rethink your ethics if you want to do business with me.”
    “I need to know what you can tell me first.”
    “Well we seem to be at something of an impasse. You must think I’m a fucking idiot if you think I’m just going to tell you what I know. You don’t even know who you’re dealing with.” Niall saw the reporter’s eyes dart right; the waiter had come back with the drinks. Sandy smiled nervously as the pint glasses were placed on