Where Have All the Boys Gone?(100)

Katie clung on to him very hard.

“I sorted it out with Iain, by the way.”

She looked up at him, tears still streaking her face. “Good.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I will, because I want you for myself.”

“What?”

“He was chatting up somebody else when I left.”

“Good for him,” said Katie, almost ready to smile at the sweet, weak man she’d got to know. She’d have to keep the paper, she thought.

He nodded quickly. “Plus, the women are heading out too. Somebody told them there’s forty men to every woman in Alaska.”

“Cool,” Katie nodded.

“Katie, look. I’ve wasted so much time by not saying anything. And being a bit of a prick.”

Katie nodded again. “You were.”

“I know. Love means, turning into a complete prick. Apparently,” said Harry.

Katie gulped painfully when she heard him mention the L word.

“But I won’t stop any longer. Please, please please please come back with me. For ever. Live with me, my house is much nicer than Aunt Senga’s. Although you can stay there if you like. I don’t want to rush you. Or, you know, we could come to London a lot, I promise. I could even look for a job here if you want, that’s how much I want to be with you.”

Katie half-laughed. “There are NO forests in London.”

“No? Well, I’m sure we could plant one.”

She clung on to him even tighter. “You know, I think you probably could. But, you know, let’s go home first.”

“Where do you mean?”

“Scotland,” she said.

And then he kissed her for the first time, and she realised that actually, it didn’t matter in the slightest. Wherever they were, home would always feel like exactly wherever he was.

“So, why . . . why are you here?” she asked eventually, as he led her back across the road to the waiting Land-Rover, which already had six traffic wardens standing around it, looking at their watches for the second they ticked into penalty time.

He looked at her as if this was the stupidest question in the world. “Well . . .” he said, opening the door to reveal a sleeping dog on the front seat. “Francis wanted a run.”

Francis opened half an eye. On seeing Katie, he leaped up immediately, delighted to see her.

“I always said my dog liked you,” Harry said, unwilling to take his hand away from hers to get around to the other side of the car.

Francis, after greeting Katie hysterically, then did a most peculiar thing. He jumped down from the front seat, circled around the car and jumped in the back, without prompting.

Harry shook his head in amazement. “Shall we go and pick some things up for you?”

“Some proper coffee would be good. You must be knackered!” said Katie. “Did you drive all night?”

“No,” said Harry, “this car can fly.” He got in the car and took her hand. “I just didn’t want to invite myself to lie down on your bed.”

Katie shook her head, unable to believe how happy she felt. “In the future, can you just tell me stuff you want to do? It’ll make everything a lot less complicated.”

Harry looked at her, and grinned wickedly.

“OK, maybe not everything.”

Harry pulled out into the busy traffic. “Which way?”

“Not this way!”

“We’re going to be one of those couples that bicker a lot, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” said Katie. “I think so. Then we’ll make it up and it’ll be lovely.”

“OK,” he said, smiling. “By the way, much as I am dying to hold you for ever and never ever let you go, I’ve already had nine speeding tickets in the last seven hours, and I suspect you should probably take your hand away from under my seat belt.”

“All right,” said Katie. “Can I keep it on your leg?”

“Yes please,” said Harry. “By the way, is this a good time to tell you I’m actually the love child of the Laird and heir to ninety thousand a year?”

“But you were keeping it quiet so you could find a woman who only loved you for yourself?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“Well, are you?”

“No,” said Harry. “Iain is though.”

“Oh shut up.”

And they turned around, and then the car crossed the bridge into North London, up the road where there were millions, then thousands, then hundreds, then, a long way beyond, just a scattering of cars, the end of the line of a great chain heading north, onwards and upwards for hundreds of miles, until they reached the sea, and the big clean sky.