Where Have All the Boys Gone?(29)


Smiling, Harry expertly skimmed a stone across the water. Then his face grew serious again.

“A secret for now, OK?”





Chapter Seven


It was a difficult dilemma, but Katie had given it much thought and, fifteen minutes after she’d reached the boarding house, had decided to spill Harry’s secret to Louise. Because she truly didn’t know quite what to think, and Louise would give her some much needed impartiality. Plus, Louise really wouldn’t care that much so she wouldn’t be prejudiced one way or another. They were huddled in the teashop, which was open until seven, thus meaning if they were quick they had half a chance of getting something to eat for dinner that wasn’t from the Spar and thus entirely composed of nuts, refined sugar, E129, FL98, and glucose extract. No Kelpie today: they’d checked. The steam rose from the tea urns and fogged up the small windows that faced the port. The lights from the boats gleamed in the darkening twilight. From the headland, a lighthouse glowed every few seconds, illuminating the bobbing boats, creaking and chattering to themselves up and down on the waves.

“God, he’s quite right,” said Louise, tucking gratefully into a hearty helping of shepherd’s pie. “You don’t want to change things around here. I walked six miles today, and only got rained on twice. I got asked out four times when I passed the research institute. Don’t you think they’re good statistics?”

Katie toyed with her shepherd’s pie. She really wasn’t feeling that hungry. “But, I mean, just not telling anyone and keeping quiet about something that might completely change the community . . . that’s not right, is it?”

“I thought it was part of your job to cover things up?”

“You’re confusing us with Exxon Valdez. No, our job is to tell people things.”

“Or to sit on harmful information. Anyway, it hardly matters. It would be awful if this place got infested with tourists. It would change completely. Everyone would want Sky Digital and complain about not being able to get a mobile signal. Then they’d start putting masts up and, before you know it, Las Vegas.”

Katie stared at her. “You know, Louise, I think you really are a country girl at heart.”

“Bollocks I am. I wouldn’t know a cow if it pissed on my boots. Which, incidentally, one nearly did today.”

Katie noticed, however, that Louise hadn’t said a single thing about going back to London. In fact, her cheeks were flushed pink from the unaccustomed exercise of walking everywhere. In London, she could barely make it as far as the corner shop without whining.

“Anyway,” said Louise, scooping the last of the carrots into her mouth. “Gotta go. Got plans.”

“Under what circumstances do you have plans? You do not,” said Katie, outraged.

“Yes I do. I told Craig the Vet I might see him in the Mermaid. And Fergus. He’s the tree surgeon.”

“He’s not a real doctor you know,” said Katie, dismayed.

Louise tutted. “I know that, stupid. Have you ever met a doctor with biceps the size of a melon?”

“No, and I’m not sure I’d trust one if I did.”

“Anyway, it’s all very casual. Katie,” Louise leaned forwards, as if imparting some knowledge of great import. “Did you know there are LOADS of guys here?”

“As far as I can tell, there are only guys here, Louise.”

Louise’s eyes shone with the fervency of the true believer. “I’ve just realised that this is where they’ve all been hiding! All the decent ones, I mean, not the slime-ball magnets I run into. All the hunky single men—they’re here! Out making themselves even more hunky in the open air! It’s so obvious when you think about it. This place has a disproportionate amount of men. I can’t believe we missed it for so long!”

“We’ve been blind,” nodded Katie.

“Don’t you just want to bring up everyone we know? Maybe we should start a travel company for single women.”

“I think Turkish waiters have already cornered that market, but go right ahead.”

Louise smiled and looked out of the window.

“We are rubbish feminists you and me, aren’t we?” said Katie, playing with the saltcellar.

Louise sighed. “Why can’t I be a feminist and want a boyfriend at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” said Katie. “Honestly, I really don’t.”

“Well then,” said Louise. “Are you coming with me or not?”

Katie looked down at her untouched dinner. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh well—less competition for me,” said Louise. “Hang on—that means no competition at all. Yippee!”

As Louise bounced out of the shop into the twilight, Katie smiled ruefully. So much for help over a delicate issue. She was still convinced Harry was wrong. Surely if they could rally the local people against any schemes to change their environment, that would work best. She recalled the anti-road protesters from a few years ago—all those filthy-looking chaps who lived in trees for months on end. But hadn’t they failed and the roads had been built anyway? Oh, it was so . . .

“Now, what great thoughts are going on in that head?” came a friendly-sounding voice. “You can’t be puzzling out Mr. MacKenzie’s recipe for mince and tatties, that’s for sure, because your dinner looks rum.”

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