Where Have All the Boys Gone?(24)

“Right away,” said Lachlan, and busied himself at the back of the bar.

“I don’t want to come on like a health and safety inspector,” said Katie. “But why are we being served horse piss in a bar? Is it like, a hazing ritual?”

“I’m sure Lachlan just forgot,” said the man. “Or I forgot to pick it up.” He took the bottle and put it down by his briefcase, then held out his hand. Both the girls declined to shake it.

“Craig MacPhee. I’m the vet around here.”

“Yeah? Or are you just taking the piss?” said Louise. “Ha aha aha.”

He smiled. “Can I buy you a real drink?”

“Yes,” said Louise promptly.

“Thank you,” said Katie. The normal hubbub had restored itself to the pub, as the two women ordered vodka tonics (Lachlan had a little step behind the bar, so it wasn’t difficult at all).

It was a quarter past eight, and still no sign of Iain. Katie sipped her drink as Louise pestered Craig as to whether there was more to vetting than horse piss and sticking your hands up a cow’s bottom.

Finally, the little door pinged to announce another customer’s arrival, and it was Iain, his collar turned up against the chill, his lovely green eyes roaming the room as he hung up his coat, to general murmurings of welcome.

“Lovely girls! You both came!” he said as he approached the bar, looking as if they were the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen.

“Hey,” Katie said.

“I hope that’s vodka or gin or something,” he said. “I was going to warn you, this isn’t much of a wine town. Don’t know what you sophisticated London ladies drink.”

“Oh, any old horse piss does us,” said Louise.

“Hmm,” said Iain. “Another?”

KATIE REALISED ABOUT halfway through her third vodka and tonic that she was surreptitiously feeling guilty about something, but couldn’t work out what it was until Iain leaned over closely. She could smell his aftershave (nice, something gentlemanly, like Penhaligon’s, which was a huge relief. She didn’t like those blokes who bathed in Ego?ste) and felt a little faint. What was he going to whisper? She closed her eyes in anticipation.

“So, are you going to be my spy at the Commission?” he whispered quietly. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

She cracked one eye open. “Of course not!” she said. “Anyway, spying’s not fun. Look at David Shayler. He put on six stone in prison.”

“Yeah,” said Iain. “But think of the noble cause.”

“You’re a journalist! You don’t have noble causes!”

“Perhaps I’m the exception.”

“I’ve known you five minutes and you’re trying to bribe me with vodka to spy on my employer!”

“Oh yeah,” said Iain. “I see. Yeah, I can imagine that, viewed in a certain way, that could appear a tad suspicious. Another vodka?”

“Yes please. And anyway,” she said, feeling bold, “maybe I just don’t want to mix business with pleasure.”

His eyes sparkled at her. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I’S SURE THERE weren’t this many steps on the way down,” said Louise, as they negotiated their way back to Water Lane.

“It’s not cold any more,” said Katie, who was quite fired up by all the vodka and the unaccustomed male attention.

“Yezz,” said Louise. “Good. I like it here.” She slipped in a puddle. “I hate it here.”

“Come on.” Katie put her arm around her shoulders.

“That Iain is a veh veh veh veh handsome man,” said Louise, as they turned into the darkened driveway.

“He is,” said Katie. “Deffo.”

A large bosom loomed at them out of the night.

“What time do you call this?” boomed the imperious voice of Mrs. McClockerty.

Louise stumbled a little. “I call it time to avoid the scary lady in the dark,” she hiccuped. “Katie, there’s a scary lady standing here in the dark. I’m frightened.”

“I’m sorry,” said Katie to Mrs. McClockerty, crossing her fingers behind her back. “She’s never like this normally.”

“I should hope not. You’re abominations.”

“We’re abomiwhats?” said Louise, who suddenly looked as if she was squaring up for a fight.

“Nothing. Nobody,” said Katie. “You’re asleep and having a dream. I’m sorry. This won’t happen again.”

Mrs. McClockerty sniffed loudly. “I’m docking one of your breakfast pieces. EACH,” she said, then stormed back indoors, slamming the door behind her. Half dragging Louise, Katie made her way around to the servants’ entrance at the side, thinking of a few alternative uses for the now denied breakfast pieces on Mrs. McClockerty, all of which would require the immediate application of a team of highly-trained surgeons.

“And there isn’t one of those for hundreds of miles,” she thought viciously to herself. “You’d have to make do with Craig the Vet.”

IT WAS WITH a heavy hangover and a rumbling stomach that Katie turned up to work the following morning, feeling slightly bad. She hadn’t agreed to be a spy, but on the other hand, she’d always prided herself on being a professional, and dallying with the enemy, and his gorgeous green eyes, wasn’t exactly professional. She meditated on this whilst trying to get to grips with the antediluvian computer which was so slow she was wondering if she’d missed the handle you had to turn on the back.