Where Have All the Boys Gone? (20 page)

Olivia raised an eyebrow at Katie. ‘How many cocktails has he had?’ she asked.

‘Sorry,’ said Katie. ‘It’s the big smoke. It’s overexciting his little country brain. Harry, this is Olivia.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Olivia. ‘Are you olive-intolerant?’

‘No.’

‘Well, you can have your martini then.’

A uniformed waitress – or possibly a model playing a waitress, so beautiful was she – handed over the drinks.

‘Thanks. Nice to meet you. Harry…Harry what?’

‘Barr.’

‘No,
really?’

‘Uh, yes.’

‘Like Harry’s Bar?’

‘Um…’

‘In Venice. Bellinis, you know.’

‘Oh, no. I don’t know,’ said Harry, looking embarrassed. Suddenly Katie was a bit cross with Olivia for showing him up.

‘Huh,’ said Olivia. ‘So, what do you think of London so far?’

‘Well, I haven’t really had a chance to…’

A skinny elongated blonde girl was sitting with her similarly etiolated friends in the banquette alongside them. Wobbling her drink slightly, she leaned over.

‘That’s a lovely accent – where are you from?’

Harry flushed. ‘Uh, Sutherland.’

The girl stared straight ahead. ‘Cool. Is that in France?’

‘Scotland.’

Several of the other girls slouching on the Turkish Delight bed were deigning to crane their necks to check out the stranger, who, Katie had to admit, did look like the only straight man in the room.

‘Wow, cool! Come and tell us about Scotland! Are you the monarch of the glen?’

‘I don’t
think
so,’ said Harry, looking apologetically at the others. He was clearly torn between trying to do the most polite thing in front of two groups of ladies.

‘Oh, go,’ said Katie, flapping her hands. ‘Fresh meat! Carrion alert!’

And Harry was submerged into a giggling blonde throng. He looked terrified but anthropologically thrilled.

‘OK,’ said Olivia. ‘Full gossip please!’

Louise was already at the bottom of her martini, but a model briskly appeared and replaced it. She started to look a bit happier.

‘We got laid!’ she announced.

‘Hang on,’ said Olivia. ‘I heard about you. But you’re not telling me our Katie here got herself entangled in the fiery wastes of love?’

‘Oh boy, did she ever.’

Katie rolled her eyes, although she’d known this would come up at some point.

‘Not with?’ Olivia indicated Harry.

‘God, no,’ said Katie immediately.

‘Why not? What’s wrong with him? He’s a bit of a hunk, isn’t he?’

‘NO,’ said Katie. ‘He’s miserable, rude and totally bossy.’

‘He doesn’t look that miserable at the moment,’ observed Louise. One of the harpies was showing Harry
her tattoo and he was trying to look and not look at the same time.

‘Well, anyway, no. It’s with this other bloke. Who is gorgeous, but a bit fucked up, I think.’

‘Ooh, gorgeous
and
fucked up,’ said Olivia. ‘Nature’s sexiest creation.’

‘He is gorgeous,’ said Louise.

‘The problem is,’ said Katie, ‘because there’s no girls up there, they’re all a bit screwed up. It’s a bit like dating at an all-boys’ school.’

‘Better and better,’ said Olivia.

‘No, I mean, like arrested development.’

‘I don’t mind it,’ said Louise stoutly. ‘They’re all really grateful and loyal. Well, all the ones I’ve met.’

‘Hang on,’ said Olivia. ‘Are you in a town or at a petting zoo?’

‘It feels a little bit of both,’ said Katie.

‘Hmm,’ said Olivia. ‘Maybe that’s what the men down here think about us. Too many women spreading like topsy, and all going completely insane.’

‘Interesting theory,’ said Katie. ‘So it’s been quiet then?’

‘Not a sniff!’ said Olivia. ‘My aromatherapist reckons I’m not opening up my chakras enough.’

‘Not opening your wallet enough, more likely,’ said Katie.

‘Plus, I’ve just taken on this huge wallpaper consultancy. Wallpaper, I ask you. Have you ever met a straight man in wallpaper…and
don’t
mention painters and decorators, I’ve had it up to here.’

Katie looked around. Cigarette smoke was reflecting off the high-set mirrors and chunky glass, giving the whole place a feel of being encased in dreamy smog, as young women floated to and fro, honed, painted and dressed up
to the nines, almost entirely for the benefit of other women.

‘The situation hasn’t got any better then?’

‘Yes, Katie, in the three weeks since you’ve been away, they’ve declared London a war zone and drafted in lots of American soldiers with chewing gum and nylons. It’s been fantastic’

‘Have you heard from Clara?’ asked Louise suddenly, out of the blue. She had somehow acquired another full martini in her hand. ‘Has she got sick and died and you’ve forgotten to mention it?’

Both Katie and Olivia looked down at their drinks.

‘Louise…you’ve got to put it out of your head,’ said Olivia. ‘I know you’ve been away, but you’re back now, and you’re just going to have to get on with things. Really. For your own good.’

‘Do you think?’ said Louise suddenly. ‘You know, it wasn’t until I came back here and back to more stupid bars like this and remembered all these endless, pointless nights out to meet someone new, even before I met bloody Max and you know, I just…I just don’t want to do it any more.’ She put her drink down. ‘I mean, am I so awful for being sick of it? Because I just wanted a husband and some children and some chickens. And I know it’s really unfashionable to say that and I know we’re all supposed to be career women and not give a toss and stand up for our feminist heritage that so many women fought so hard for. But I feel like I’m an idiot for wanting that, and there isn’t a single man in this stupid fucking town who feels like that or doesn’t just want a quick fuck, or doesn’t tell you one thing then do something quite different with someone five years younger than you. Is that fair? How is that fair? And I just…I just don’t
want
to do it any more.’

She dumped her empty glass on the table and got up and stalked out.

‘I didn’t realise it was this bad,’ said Olivia.

‘Me neither,’ said Katie. ‘Chickens?’

‘I’ll get her,’ said Olivia. ‘I think you remind her too much of someone.’

‘OK,’ said Katie, as Olivia got up.

For a while, she was content to sit, staring around, but worrying about her friend. Coming back to London seemed to have made her sadder than ever. But she’d seemed so different in Scotland. She’d seemed…happy. Katie had assumed it was because she was escaping from all her problems and ignoring them. Now she wasn’t so sure.

‘Hey!’ said Harry, sitting down beside her. ‘All alone?’

Katie reflected on this for a moment. ‘Well, I guess so,’ she said.

‘Those girls keep squawking at me. They want to go to some party at this place called Bouj…Bou something.’

‘Oh my God!’ said Katie. ‘You’re here for fifteen seconds and you’re eurotrash already!’

‘Am I?’ said Harry. He didn’t sound very pleased.

‘Yes, you are,’ said Katie, as the blonde girls watched, jealously. One of them gave Harry an ickle baby wave.

‘Anyway, no I’m not going out to a party. I’m on national television tomorrow.’

‘Ooh yes,’ said Harry. ‘Me too.’

‘I’m sure those girls would be happy to come back to your hotel room. Although your room service bill would be enough to buy your own fucking golf course.’

‘No thanks,’ said Harry. ‘They keep asking if I know Prince William.’

Katie grimaced and shook her head.

Harry looked at her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ said Katie. ‘I just…I’ve just been looking forward to coming home to London for ages, but now I’m here, I…suddenly, I can’t remember why.’

‘Doesn’t it feel like home any more?’

‘Of course it does,’ said Katie, giving it emphasis.

‘God, I’m glad you’re not like those girls,’ he said suddenly.

‘Aren’t I?’ Katie was disappointed. She’d always thought that maybe, at least, she looked as if she belonged in London, even if she didn’t always feel it. She could take those girls any time.

‘I mean, that London “so cool”, don’t give a stuff attitude – it’s not very nice, really, is it?’

Katie shrugged. ‘It’s just ambitious people getting what they want, isn’t it?’

Harry squinted at her. ‘Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. That that’s supposed to be a good thing nowadays, nobody giving a toss and everyone pretending they don’t care and that everything’s shit. And it’s everyone’s right to “do their own thing”. Do you know where that gets you?’

‘Golf courses?’ hazarded Katie.

‘Golf…uh, yes. Exactly. I mean, I know we don’t always have the easiest of working relationships…’

Katie clinked glasses with him.

‘But I don’t think – you know, that you’re really that shallow or that you really don’t care.’

Suddenly he looked a bit nervous. ‘Well, um, when you say what you mean, and so forth. Yes. But, maybe, you know, I’ve just got more used to it, and…’

Suddenly, out of the blue, Katie became conscious of the space between them decreasing. The blonde gaggle seemed to have dematerialised; in fact, it was as if there was no one else in the bar at all. She focused on his broad
shoulders and, closer in, at his strong hands and, unmistakably, felt an awkward thrill run up her body. As the music faded to a trance-like haze in the background, she felt them, very slowly, inch towards one another.

‘OK,’ shouted Olivia. ‘I’ve got her! Just a bit of a crying jag in the toilets; exactly what’s needed to cleanse the aura. We’re off!’

As if a switch had been flicked, Harry and Katie moved apart rapidly and concerned themselves with making very innocent facial expressions. Which would have been lost on Olivia anyway, because she was concentrating on standing on her spike heels and guiding a floppy Louise out of the door at the same time.

‘Anyway, hurry up, Katie, surely you’ll want to be calling that green-eyed demon journalist lover of yours, or are you still waiting for him to call?’

Harry, who had stood up on reflex as the women had approached, instantly took a step backwards, as if he’d been pushed.

‘Excuse me?’ he said, holding Katie’s gaze.

Katie found herself in consternation, staring at the floor, trying to process what had just happened. She had been – what, attracted to Harry? Where did that come from, then? She had been – well, what had she been about to do, exactly? And anyway, it was Iain she was interested in, wasn’t it? Which clearly wasn’t exactly going to please Harry…His face was thunderous. Ah. Sticky. Well, she hadn’t been
deliberately
keeping anything a secret. He’d never asked, that was all.

‘Iain?’
he said, eyes wide in surprise.

Katie was almost lost for words. ‘Don’t you listen to village gossip?’ she managed, weakly.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Harry. ‘I absolutely do not.’

And he turned and walked smartly out of the bar.

Louise was staying in bed the next day. Katie moved the television into her room with strict exhortations not to miss the show. Katie’s good intentions to have an early night had been somewhat thwarted by her lying awake half the night worrying about everything. What on earth did she think she was up to, messing about with her boss? She couldn’t even believe that was what she was up to, particularly considering how annoying she found him. Meanwhile, she’d checked her mobile a million times – now it had a signal again, she found she’d forgotten how agonising it was.
Nada.
Nothing from Iain, nothing at all. She was the only girl in the world who could fail to pull in an all-boys’ town. It was Louise’s fault, really. That outburst about feeling left behind had given her a panic attack, and she’d gone temporarily nuts.

Well, she was just going to have to put a brave face on it and pretend last night had never happened. Ah, the humiliation, though, when Harry found out that although she was sleeping with Iain, he’d never called her. She hated how cheap that made her feel in his eyes. Mind you, it was none of his bollocking business who she slept with,
after all, and it wasn’t as if she was swapping enemy information. So, they had had a boyhood spat – that wasn’t her fault either, for Christ’s sake. Why couldn’t they all behave like grown-ups about this?

Three strong cups of fantastic coffee later and Katie was in more of a fighting mood by the time the car came to pick her up to take her to the television studios. She certainly didn’t fancy stupid Harry Barr, she fancied Iain and she would call him as soon as the programme was over and tell him to stop being such a bloody idiot, then she’d go back to Fairlish and have the kind of historic sex that she’d been thinking about for, well, quite some time.

Delighted to be let loose on her wardrobe again without having to bolster it up with thermal underwear, shapeless sweaters and wellingtons, she went for her absolute favourite wraparound red dress – which was a bit much for five o’clock in the afternoon, but would certainly make her stand out – and a vertiginous pair of heels. London woman indeed. Well, Harry was going to see London woman, and he was going to respect her. Grrr.

Arriving at the studios, she insisted on heading straight for hair and make-up. They plastered it on, of course, so it would look better under the lights, and she felt she could do with a bit of that right about now. The lady also teased her hair into a large sticky-up section at the back, which Katie thought might be a bit eighties’ Mrs Thatcher, but the hairdresser assured her was very ‘now’. And it certainly added to the height of the shoes. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was practically unrecognisable, and certainly not a Katie Watson who enjoyed herself at county shows, which was precisely the desired effect.

Harry was sitting in the green room. He looked up when she entered and his face momentarily registered shock at her appearance, which annoyed her all over again.

‘Good morning,’ she said, cordially.

‘You look like a tart’s breakfast,’ observed Harry, looking up from where he was pretending to be engrossed reading a copy of
The Field.
‘That should please Iain.’

‘Ah, sexual harassment,’ said Katie. ‘Good, I’ll be sure to contact my big scary London lawyers.’

Harry went back to ignoring her, but Katie herself felt angry and shaky inside. How dare this pompous git think he had some moral high ground, just because she’d felt sorry for him for one tiny moment in a cocktail bar? It wasn’t the law that everyone had to avoid sex was it? Or had she missed a memo? She shot Harry a dirty look, which he pretended not to notice.

Hortense entered, projecting an air of supreme busyness, wearing a headset and carrying an impressive clipboard. A small gaggle of people walked in behind her.

‘OK, chums. How’re you doing?’

Both of them grunted at her. This discomfited Hortense, who was used to people being delighted to be on television.

‘I said – HOW’RE YOU DOING!?’ she repeated.

‘We’re great,’ said Harry.

‘Great! Fantastic! We’re going to have a fantastic show then! Great! Now, let me introduce you –’

She stared at her clipboard, until there could be absolutely no doubt that she had no idea who she was introducing to whom. She indicated an elegantly dressed, very slender woman with an anxious expression and a large mane of put-up hair.

Harry leaped to his feet.

‘…this is Fennellopy Crystal. She’s just written a book on crosstraining dogs and men.’

Harry stared at her. ‘You’re crossbreeding dogs and men?’ he asked, in incredulous tones. ‘How does that work?’

‘Crosstraining,’
she said in an annoyingly patient voice, as if she’d been asked this question a lot before.

Katie snorted.

‘You just have to teach them all the same. Talk to men sternly and reward them with praise.’

‘To get them to do what? Eat your post?’

The woman laughed an annoying tinkly laugh. ‘It’s the latest way to get a man, you know.’

‘By whistling at them in a very high pitch?’

‘It’s sold four hundred thousand in paperback.’

‘Yes,’ said Hortense, nervously. ‘And this is Star Mackintosh.’

Star Mackintosh looked about twenty years old and was wearing odd ankle boots that zipped up the middle, pink fishnets, a pale pink leather bomber jacket tightly fitted over enormous boobs, and a tiny fringed denim skirt that only just covered her arse. There didn’t seem to be anything underneath the bomber jacket.

‘Hello!’ she said in broad Mancunian tones. ‘I’m the new girl in
Coronation Street.
I always just say what I do, otherwise it’s embarrassing for people to come up to me.’

Katie nodded. She’d stood up too, as standing around seemed to be what they were doing at the moment.

‘That’s why I changed my name to Star. From Tina. It saves time with people having to ask me what I do, ha ha ha!’

‘That’s great, well done,’ said Katie.

Star leaned over conspiratorially. ‘You know, I’ve got nothing on under this bomber jacket.’

Katie nodded.

Star checked out Hortense, who was busy shouting into a walkie-talkie.

‘So, I was thinking, the show’s live, innit?’

Katie was there ahead of her. ‘You’re going to get your norks out?’

Star smiled. ‘Well, it’ll get me the coverage, innit? And Judy’s like, already famous for it. I can’t believe nobody’s done it before.’

‘Me too,’ said Katie. ‘Considering it goes out at teatime in a family slot.’

Star shrugged. ‘I’ve tipped off the tabs, and they’re going to try and get one of the cameramen to do a close-up of Richard’s face.’

‘That’s not very sporting.’

Star smiled again. ‘Gets me in the papers, dunnit!’

‘You should do that too,’ said Harry to Katie. ‘In case there’s anyone out there who hasn’t seen them.’

Katie glared at him. ‘Jealous?’

Harry sneered. ‘God no.’

‘You can’t do the tit thing,’ said Star, sounding agitated. ‘It was my agent’s…I mean, it was my idea first, but I’m the biggest star, so I’m on last. So you
can’t
do it first.’ She took out her mobile and started texting furiously on it.

‘Don’t worry Star,’ said Katie, putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder, ‘I won’t. I’m afraid we’ve just ended up on a show with a horrible sexist pig.’

‘I thought Richard was meant to be really nice!’ said Star, as Katie wandered off to the catering table by herself, to get away from Harry and try to eat a sandwich without getting it covered in lipgloss.

‘OK everyone,’ said Hortense. ‘Richard and Judy will try and pop in to say “hello”.’

‘Ooh,’ said Star.

‘Now just remember, be yourselves and have fun – we want to see your natural personalities come through. Although I trust you’ll remember this is a teatime show, it’s not
Frank Skinner.’

Star let out a tiny giggle.

Katie sighed. If Harry could stop being a prick for five tiny seconds, she could concentrate on this – their biggest break so far – being a success, get the job done, get the attention levels up, scare the developers off, job done, go home and forget the whole bloody thing. Plus, this was her first time on telly – her mum would be watching and everything. She didn’t want to mess it up. She wondered if Iain would be watching. Well, of course he would – the entire town would be out in force. She smiled ruefully. Well, at least her make-up was nice.

The studio was much smaller than Katie had imagined, although she’d been to these things before, on the sidelines, and she always thought that. It was hot, and there were cables everywhere – she heard Harry curse as he hit his foot as they were led along the dark passageways behind the cameramen.

In front of them now, Fennellopy Crystal was talking to Richard in her slow, modulated, somewhat infuriating voice.

‘So, if you kept on doing it, I’d simply change the position of the sofa, until you’d learned.’

Richard looked suspicious. ‘So, your book is basically just telling women to tell men off until they do what they’re told?’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ said Judy.

‘See, you’re doing it now.’

Fennellopy was wearing a very tight smile on her very tight face. ‘It’s about rewarding positive behaviour in a positive way.’

‘I’m not a dog,’ said Richard crossly. ‘I’m a tiger.’

‘It’s not about calling men dogs,’ said Fennellopy. ‘It’s about finding stability in your life.’

‘By buying a dog,’ said Richard helpfully.

‘No.’

‘It’s a lovely book,’ said Judy, patting Fennellopy’s knee. Fennellopy flinched like a nervous Pomeranian. ‘And thank you so much for coming on and telling us all about it.’

She turned towards one of the cameras. ‘Now, from one extreme to another – whilst Fennellopy’s talking about how to keep your man in London, at the other end of the country they’ve got the opposite problem. Yes, in the town of Fairlish, in Sutherland, there are fifteen men to every woman!’

As Judy was talking, Fennellopy was briskly whisked away without ceremony, and with much shushing, Katie and Harry were led onto the famous sofa.

‘What time does the next bus leave, I hear you ask. Well, here to tell us what it’s like, and why they
don’t
want a new golf course built, which will mean even
more
men, here’s Katie Watson and Harry Barr.’

Tinkly music played, and Katie and Harry tried to arrange their faces into natural-looking rictus grins. Up behind them on screens came large superimposed shots of Fairlish, looking rather lovely.

Judy turned towards them in a smiling fashion as they murmured hellos.

‘So, you’re Harry, that’s right?’

Harry nodded.

‘And you live in Fairlish, where there are, how many…?’

‘Five hundred and seventy-five men and sixty-six women,’ said Richard helpfully.

Harry smiled.

Judy clutched his arm in a motherly fashion. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ said Harry. ‘You know, it’s an outside kind of life out there…you’re living close to nature, there’s always lots of work to do, seasons changing.’

‘But you don’t have a girlfriend,’ said Richard. ‘Tricky.’

‘Well, we’re quite a quiet community,’ said Harry. ‘Most of us.’

Katie chose to ignore this.

‘Well, you’re not quite the quiet community any more, are you, uhn, Katie?’ said Judy, reading her notes.

‘No,’ said Katie. ‘Pluto Enterprises want to knock down our local forest and replace it with a golf course, and we’re saying “NO”.’

‘Hmm,’ said Judy. ‘So, you’re actually from London, aren’t you?’

‘She certainly is,’ said Harry.

Katie nodded.

‘So, did you find yourself suddenly terribly popular when you arrived there?’

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said Katie.

Harry snorted. She shot him a look.

‘I mean, compared to London, how did you find it for men?’

‘Well, there’s a lot of them about,’ said Katie. ‘But mostly they’re really insecure with women and tend to get really jealous.’

‘No they don’t,’ said Harry. ‘But the local men tend to
like to stick to the more traditional type of girl. We’re not really into the racy city-girl type. Most of us are actually quite old-fashioned in our ways. I don’t know how many girls want that kind of thing any more.’

‘Well, quite a few, judging by our switchboard!’ said Judy, sounding calm, although there was clearly somebody shouting in her earpiece.

‘So, I mean, Harry, how do you cope, with the whole, lack of girls thing?’ said Richard. He sounded as if he wanted Harry to reply with an intimate rundown of his masturbation timetable.

‘It’s fine,’ said Harry. ‘I walk my dog a lot, you know.’

‘Ooh, you’ve got a dog, how lovely,’ said Judy.

Katie rolled her eyes.

‘And you must be having the time of your life!’ said Richard to Katie.

‘You’d think,’ said Katie. Richard and Judy weren’t quite sure how to take this rudeness and Katie felt a pang of embarrassment.

‘So, would you recommend any lady viewers watching right now who might be feeling a little bit lonely to get themselves up there right now?’

‘If they want to save a forest, then, yes, we could do with them!’ said Katie, trying to redeem things with a cheesy grin.

‘Or if they’re quite loose and just desperate to cop off,’ said Harry. ‘That seems to work quite well too.’

There was a sudden silence in the studio.

‘OK,’ said Judy, still in a smiley way, but with a desperate edge to her voice. ‘Lovely! Thanks! So nice of you to come in! So that’s the town with too many men there…and, coming up, just after the break, You Say We Pay and we’ll be greeting Star Mackintosh, the youngest hot new star on the block…’

They were ushered off the sofa quickly, without time to say goodbye to their hosts.

Hortense was waiting for them outside. ‘That was
great,
guys, thank you so much for coming.’

‘Great? Did you actually see it?’ said Katie. She was shocked and mortified beyond belief at what Harry had just said. I mean, there was banter and then there was…well, he’d just called her a slut in front of ten million people.