Where Have All the Boys Gone?(26)

Harry drove on in silence. Katie bit her lip. Bloody hell. Where had that come from? Oh God, what if he sent her home? Olivia would be fuming and actually she had quite started to enjoy herself. There was a reason why she didn’t get the big jobs at the agencies and she knew it was her inability to keep her big mouth shut and let the client always be right. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

She reached a hand back in the Land-Rover and Francis licked it. Oh well. She scratched the fur under his chin and he rubbed his head on her wrist, making pleased noises.

Eventually, Harry sighed. “My dog seems to like you,” he said. “I don’t, but he does.”

“Maybe you should put your dog in charge.”

“He hates responsibility.”

Katie took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry,” she said. Her least favourite words in the world. “If you want to let me go, I understand.”

Harry rubbed the back of his head and laughed. “I think that’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you? Plus, on that evidence, I think it might be a better punishment to keep you.”

Katie harrumphed.

“Do you think you could at least pretend to listen when I’m talking to you and try to keep down the sarcastic remarks?”

“Yes,” said Katie, biting her tongue.

THEY SPENT THE rest of the day touring the forest in relative calm. Harry described the flora and fauna of each area, how they were important, how they undertook the husbandry and what the gamekeepers and tree surgeons did. Katie was amazed to find it was actually incredibly interesting, and also astonished by how many people Harry’s office employed. She even managed to keep remarks about how much her mother wanted her to marry a doctor to herself.

“You never see any of the surgeons,” said Harry. “They don’t like being indoors. They start pacing, like panthers. Willie Mac spends more time sleeping in his bothy than he does in his house.”

“What’s a bothy?”

“It’s like a little hut in the woods. Not exactly five star, but it suits some. It’s quiet.”

“The woods aren’t quiet,” said Katie. “Full of creaking noises and scary rustlings. I mean, well, just general nature taking its course kind of stuff, of course,” she added, aware she was going to have to toughen up and get used to country ways quickly. “Not scary at all.”

“Don’t know about that,” said Harry. “There used to be lots of boar here, and we’re thinking of bringing them back. Wolves too. And adders.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay in the car,” she answered, all resolve instantly evaporating.

Finally, when they were miles away from town and, it felt, any other living human being, Harry forded a stream in the Land-Rover, and brought them to a halt.

“Here,” he said.

The afternoon light was settling on the tops of the trees, which were just, here and there, beginning to show signs of green, distant promises of a spring still not quite making its presence felt. This wasn’t a carefully managed forest, like the endless acres they had just driven through; it was natural and running wild. Roots snaked around each other, and the vegetation lay thickly rotting on the ground. Everywhere there were signs of life just flashing by out of reach; a quick streak of silver in the stream, a rustle in the undergrowth; a vanishing pair of sharp yellow eyes.

“Wow,” said Katie, stepping out. “Where’s the gingerbread house?”

She was glad she’d bought those stout boots at the outdoor shop in Soho (or the “Big Outdoor Nerd’s Shop” as she had called it until that first visit) before they left.

As she stepped forward, the dead leaves crunched underfoot.

“Shh shh!” said Harry, grabbing her arm and pointing. Rising out of the woods, outlined by the fading sun was a huge golden kestrel, rearing backwards. As if having seen them and found them wanting, it immediately twirled away and soared upwards towards the sun, lazily batted its giant wings twice, then disappeared into the far yonder. It was one of the most beautiful things Katie had ever seen.

“My goodness,” she said. In that way you do when something unexpected happens and you’ve had a really mad few days and are feeling a bit homesick and unfamiliar, she suddenly felt like crying. She choked it down hard. Fortunately, Harry hadn’t noticed; he was striding forwards into the forest.

“I love it here,” he said. “It’s my favourite place in the whole . . . well, the whole world probably.” He smiled apologetically for his unaccustomed hyperbole.

“Hmm?” responded Katie, still not quite trusting herself to speak.

“Look at this,” said Harry, pointing out a thick tree stump, covered in vines, that was exactly the right height for a stool.

He put his fingers on the rings. “See this ring here?”

Katie nodded.

“When Queen Victoria was alive, she used to come riding here. And this ring was made when Bonnie Prince Charlie was leading an army to London. Here, further in, Mary Queen of Scots was in Holyrood when this was still a sapling.”

Katie traced the lines with her fingers.

“This tree was over four hundred years old when she fell,” mused Harry. “Sometimes I think they have more claim to the earth than we do.”

His face looked distant and brooding. Katie found it hard to stop staring at him, and felt the need to break the mood.