Where Have All the Boys Gone? (26 page)

They waited, looking at each other until the line had gone in, and there was no one left outside the tent except a few of Kelpie’s scurrying army.

Iain came towards her, and Katie found herself instinctively taking a step or two back.

‘You look…ravishing,’ he said, as if he’d searched through all the words in the world and this was the only one that would do her justice.

‘Uh-huh,’ said Katie. She wanted to look calm and collected and dignified, but inside she was shaking, and all she could think of was to holler, Where did you go? You left me! You vanished! Why??? But she kept a grip on herself in an attempt to be rational. Her good intentions to give up Scottish men for ever had evaporated at seeing Iain in his gorgeous grey kilt, faster than 8Ace finding £1.49 behind a hedge.

‘How’ve you been?’ he asked.

‘GREAT,’ said Katie. She bit her lip.

‘You know, I missed you when you went away…I thought…’ Suddenly Iain looked quite hot in the face.

Classic avoidance technique, thought Katie.

‘I mean, after…’

After what? Katie thought viciously. After you tried to fuck me, failed and never contacted me again?

‘After the time we spent together…I didn’t…I mean, when you didn’t want to see me, I quite understood…’

Katie swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean,
I didn’t want to see you?’

‘Well, I figured…you know, after the time…and then you fucked off back to London, I guessed that was that…I mean, I know what you girls are like.’

Katie folded her arms.
‘What?
What are we like, Iain?’

‘Well, you all sit around in coffee shops and tell each other how rubbish men are in bed, then you don’t see them any more, and that’s it.’ Iain hung his head.

Katie stared at him. Surely he couldn’t be so dumb. ‘Iain…Iain, did you get
everything
you know about women from watching television?’

Iain shrugged. ‘No.’

‘Iain.’

‘Yes?’

Katie put a hand up over her eyes. ‘I went to London because I fell out with my boss, and because I felt the job was done, that was all. And you didn’t call, or get in touch, or anything.’

‘I…I kind of thought, after everything that had happened, you wouldn’t be interested.’ Iain’s left eye had developed a nervous twitch.

‘And you never bothered to find out?’ asked Katie, full of indignation. ‘Oh, then I come back and you’re all over town, squiring blonde bits and pieces up at the caravan park.’

‘Well, yes,’ said Iain. ‘I think we can both agree I needed the practice.’

They were both silent for a second after that.

‘Anyway, you didn’t tell me you were back in town.’

‘You PHONE girls you sleep with!’ said Katie. ‘That is absolutely obvious rule number one! EVERYONE knows that! You could ask Francis that and he’d dial a number with his paws!’

‘Yes, well, if you’d bothered to let me know you were coming back EVER, I might have done something about it. Anyway, I did leave you a message.’

‘I can assure you you didn’t,’ said Katie.

Iain unfastened his sporran and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Here,’ he said, looking disgruntled. ‘I thought you’d get it.’

She took the crumpled sheet from him.

‘Come
on
,’ came a voice suddenly. Katie looked down. It was Lachlan, looking crossly at them. ‘It’s about to start. If you want your dinner, you have to get in here right away…’

The marquee looked awesome. Tables stretched away as far as the eye could see, twinkling with little candles and thistle centrepieces. Of the errant donkey, there was no sign. At every turn, Katie was amazed. OK, she happened to know that the tablecloths were mostly paper, and several young techies had ended up requiring first aid after deciding that the middle of the night, after a long session at the Mermaid, was the ideal time to go thistle-gathering, and about sixty of the candles were slowly melting Santa Clauses she’d finally found in one of the gift shops at the last minute, rather than the plain whites…but, with the lights turned down, it was a fairyland.

Everyone was already seated, with an artillery of waiters standing ready to go. Lachlan led them right into the middle, and everyone fell silent, as if they were about
to start dancing or something. Katie felt terribly uncomfortable.

‘You’re over there,’ said Lachlan to Iain. ‘Table seventy-nine.’

Iain looked at Katie and headed off to the left. She couldn’t read his expression.

‘And you’re here,’ said Lachlan, as he led Katie to the biggest table, right at the top of the marquee. There was an empty space at Harry’s right hand.

He was looking at his drink when she approached, then, just at the last minute, lifted his face to meet her eyes.

It was like a lightbulb going off in her head. From completely out of left field, she knew straight away. His normally brooding, guarded expression had dropped completely. She’d thought the scene in the nightclub was just a drunken aberration; she was so focused on her own loneliness, she’d never even considered his. She just…she was so unused to any kind of male attention, she’d bypassed it altogether.

And now of course he thought it was all up, all done for, the moment she and Iain had walked in through the entrance together. She blinked, still staring at him. But he’d dropped his eyes again and was staring at his empty dinner plate.

She had. She’d backed the wrong bloody horse. She’d been blind to what was right under her nose. The crack in the door she’d seen…the glimpse of the desired life. Maybe it hadn’t been Iain at all. Maybe it had been Harry all along.

Lachlan cleared his throat behind her and, conscious of five hundred pairs of hungry eyes staring at her, she slipped into the seat beside him.

‘Busy?’ asked Harry, pain evident in his voice as the
chatter around the room started up again and Kelpie’s army leaped into motion, rushing forward to start serving soup.

‘Look, Harry…’ Katie started, and then didn’t know how to go on. She could hardly say, ‘If you’re in love with me…’ Plus, what if she were wrong? Plus, what was the end of that sentence anyway? She swallowed and looked up at him. He had turned to his left, where a very grand woman Katie didn’t know was sitting looking snooty. He was trying to chat to her whilst looking completely unperturbed. The back of his neck was giving him away though. On Katie’s right was Kennedy, who was talking about the number of his bedrooms to a wide-eyed busty blonde on his other side. Katie concentrated on her broth when it came, and took a few gulps of wine, her mind racing furiously. Louise was on the other side of the room, where she seemed to be engrossed in a very deep conversation with Craig the Vet. Olivia was already up and going around the room, chatting to one and all in what looked like harsh anti-golf course tones. She certainly wasn’t touching any food that might have been made with anything other than soya.

There was no help at hand. Katie winced at herself. How could she have been so naive? OK, so she wasn’t Beyoncé Knowles, but things were different up here. She could probably have looked like Harry Knowles, and courted a bit of attention. And Harry must have thought she was taunting him all this time. She closed her eyes.

The posh woman had turned around to talk to someone else, and Katie was suddenly very aware of Harry’s bulk at her elbow.

He cleared his throat. ‘Well, who’d have thought it, eh?’ he said, in a growly tone of voice.

Katie sneaked a peek at him. He looked as though he was trying incredibly hard to be Very Brave. Her heart went out to him immediately.

‘All this?’ she said. ‘It’s…just great, isn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘And everyone seems to be having a good time.’

Everyone, reflected Katie, except for the two of them.

Dinner was excruciating, as Katie was completely unable to make any kind of conversation, and it became increasingly clear to Harry that he’d given himself away. She was clearly mortified and desperate to get out of his sight as fast as she reasonably could.

It was just, he’d kind of thought that Iain nonsense was over with once and for all; he’d seen Iain out and about with the cavalcade of ladies who’d arrived, and he knew what Iain was like. Weak. No match really for a bolshy character like Katie. God, why had he been such a stupid prick in London? It hadn’t even hit home, until he realised just how much he missed her when she went back. It wasn’t the same around the office, with just Derek and Francis on hand. He missed her habit of asking awkward questions all the time, and dashing off to do things, and, well, he just missed her and that was all there was to it.

So they talked about the food, which was surprisingly good and almost completely poison free, as far as Katie could tell; the fact that the weather had cleared up; that wasn’t it amazing so many people had come so far, blah blah.

Katie was sure her heart was pounding so loudly he would be able to see it through her chest. For some reason she felt her eyes constantly returning to his hands. He was wearing cufflinks on his shirt, and she could see how strong his forearms looked underneath it. He had such
big hands, more suited to working on the land than sitting in an office, she thought. She wondered what it would be like to feel them on her.

‘Oh God,’ said Harry finally.

Katie’s heart leaped. What was he going to say? Was he going to make a declaration? Bring it up? Oh God, what was she going to say? How could she respond?

‘I hate speeches,’ said Harry.

Katie thought maybe she’d misheard. ‘Pardon?’ she said, her throat dry.

‘Speeches. I hate giving speeches.’ He drew a small pile of index cards out of his pocket.

‘You’re giving a speech?’ said Katie stupidly.

‘Well, yes…got to thank everyone for coming and stuff, remind them why they’re here and all that. Then I think Ewan McGregor’s going to say a few words, and I think Shirley Manson’s going to sing a song later.’

‘Oh,’ said Katie, mildly wondering why nobody had asked her to say anything. ‘Great.’

‘We would have got you to do it, but somebody said you might encourage inappropriate arse-showing.’

Katie nodded. ‘I don’t mean to.’

Harry smiled wryly. ‘You never do.’

Harry rapped his fingers on the table as the puddings came around. ‘I guess I’d better do it after pudding. Or maybe when they get coffee Or maybe just now.’

In fact, they did have to wait for coffee, by which time Harry looked so uncomfortable Katie wanted to ask him if he needed to be taken to the toilet. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it will be great.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure,’ said Harry ominously, fingering his index cards.

Derek came bounding up, wearing a dinner jacket that made him look like a waiter. ‘I’ve got the PA fixed up!’
he whispered, indicating a large amplifier with a mike behind them.

‘Great,’ said Harry, looking like a condemned man. Over the clatter of coffee cups, he stood up with the mike, which brushed his jacket and gave an instant wail of feedback.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Good start.’

The room gradually quietened down and he stepped to the side. Once he started to speak, thought Katie, he didn’t sound nervous at all.

‘Hello everyone,’ he said. ‘I’m Harry Barr, and I’m the person who runs the forest you’re all helping by coming here tonight, so I’d just like to thank you.’

There was a little cheer, and a round of applause went around the room. Harry grinned and went pink.

‘Every year, we lose twenty million acres of forest in the UK. Organised lines of replantings can’t even begin to replicate the complexity of original woodlands that have developed over centuries; the different species inter-dependent on one another the way they were always meant to be.

‘Golf courses are the opposite of the wild woods. They’re manicured and organised. They are an attempt to impose order on the world, to bend it to man’s will. To smooth its rough surfaces and expose its secrets.

‘I’m glad you’re all here tonight, because I’m glad to be part of a group of people which doesn’t want all the mystery and adventure gone from their lives. Which believes that our great forests deserve to flourish in peace, which believes that a little bit of Scotland can always remain wild, just as a little bit of our hearts can never be tamed.’

There was a huge nationalistic roar at this, and much thumping of feet on floors, and glasses on tables. Katie
couldn’t understand why Harry had been so bothered about giving a speech; he wasn’t bad at it at all.

‘Anyway, we’re about to commence the slave auction.’

There was massed girly screeching.

‘So, I would ask everyone to give generously, as we all make massive tits of ourselves, just like Mother Nature intended.’ Harry squinted at the index card he was holding, as if he didn’t want to read out the next bit. ‘Very quickly, there’s a few people I have to thank for putting tonight together. Kelpie MacGuire, who has run the kitchen like…well, like one of Stalin’s gulags, I think, but I’m sure you’ll agree, she’s done a fine job…’

There was a massed roar of applause, and Kelpie, looking pretty, pink and exhausted in her chef’s whites, stepped in and made a bow. She winked at Katie, who suspected that she was having a fantastic time.

‘…Margaret Senga McClockerty, who has been a
powerhouse
of organisational ability.’

Katie looked around, but she couldn’t see her. She must be here, surely.

‘Olivia Li from LiWebber Associates in London, who’ve been handling the PR, and…’ At this point Harry swallowed and really did go red. He stared at the index card, as if forcing himself to read it out. ‘…our most special thanks go to Katie Watson, who turned up out of the blue one day, and, well, it hasn’t always been plain sailing, but Katie, you’ve worked so hard for all of this to come together…stand up Katie…and, doesn’t she look beautiful?’

Katie was completely blindsided. She hadn’t realised…people started clapping. Slowly she stood up and found they were whooping and cheering. It was the most amazing feeling. For someone whose life was falling apart
at the seams, right now, she thought she was making a pretty good show of it. She felt tears well up suddenly.