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Ethecom’s latest projects was the setting up of a credit union. A meeting was planned in the village hall to introduce the idea to Inverfaughie. They had talked about it at dinner that night but I hadn’t paid much attention. Before ‘Fat of the Land’ had changed their lives forever, they’d all been IT programmers andbankers. Brenda had been some kind of corporate lawyer. Between them they had now devised an online local bank. It was a wee night out. God help me, I was so stuck for a social life I was actually looking forward to spending my evening at a talk on personal finance.
    *
    The village hall smelled of damp tweed and Scotch broth, a reminder of the pensioner lunches that were held there. I had expected to see Jan there too but there was no sign of him and I was relieved. The turnout wasn’t great, but those who had come seemed prepared to give it a fair hearing. Three different speakers outlined what the credit union offered: current and savings accounts, cheap loans, insurance, mortgage advice and help with budgeting. It was going well until someone raised the question of cash. I had assumed that we’d be able to get money the usual way – from the mobile bank that trundled round the village three times a week but no, the Inverfaughie Credit Union was to be a virtual bank. There would be no bank building, not even an office. Everything was supposed to happen online. Cash could be deposited and withdrawn only once a week here in the village hall between the hours of 5 and 7 pm on a Friday. The atmosphere changed after that. People started whispering amongst themselves and rumfling in their pockets, digging out car keys, impatient to go. When the presentations were over the crowd quickly thinned out.
    Jenny caught my eye and made her way towards me against the traffic of people exiting.
    ‘Take-up is low. Disappointing,’ she said, shaking her head.
    There was only a handful of people filling in the application forms. I was surprised that Jenny would be supportive of this initiative; I had only ever heard her disparage the hippies as incomers, them and their free love.
    ‘I think people prefer the convenience of getting cash from the mobile bank,’ I said.
    ‘They prefer the convenience of buying pirate DVDs from Hamish, more like.’
    ‘No way! Hamish sells pirate videos out of the mobile bank?’
    ‘Hah! And the firkin rest,’ said Jenny, still shaking her head, ‘excuse language.’
    I used the mobile bank all the time. Hamish had never even hinted at the offer of dodgy DVDs. Another sign, if I ever needed one, that I’d always be an outsider in this distant town.
    ‘He’s killing my rental business. I’ve a good mind to report him to his superiors.’
    ‘Why don’t you then?’
    ‘I know, but – then we’d have no bank at all.’
    For a bit of banter I said, ‘I see you’re sporting Inverfaughie’s latest fashion accessory. You’re really working that eco look.’
    Jenny laughed and struck a modelling pose. I thought she would scoff at the plain canvas bags, but she had one casually slung over her shoulder.
    ‘D’you know how much I’ve paid that cash and carry for poly bags over the years?’
    ‘No, how much?’
    I was impressed that she had such a handle on costs.
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said, disappointing me, ‘but it’s a lot. I’ve kept this town in free bin liners for years. It’s time we were all doing our bit for the environment. From now on if anyone wants a poly bag in my shop I’ll be charging them 5p.’
    ‘That seems a bit steep.’
    ‘If it’s good enough for Marks it’s good enough for me. The free poly bag gravy train stops here.’
    After exchanging pleasantries with Brenda, Mag and some of the others from Ethecom, I joined the small queue to sign up for the credit union, more out of solidarity with my fellow outsiders than anything else, but I was pleased when Jenny fell in behind me. Her motives were probably more of a protest against Hamish’s