Where Have All the Boys Gone?(35)

But Katie was already walking into the huge room, bewitched. Although it was as dusty and abandoned as Miss Havisham’s party, she could sense the past here; grand nights of dancing and flirtations; silk fans and punch and huge billowing skirts. She realised she was re-creating various Jane Austen mini-series in her head, and the reality up in the remote Highlands was probably rather different, but she couldn’t help live the fantasy just for a moment as she advanced further in, imagining herself filling a dance card, whatever that was, and doing curtseys. Or, she told herself sternly, slotting back on her business head, perhaps an ideal place to hold a fundraising event for the forest. Mind you, it looked like this house needed a benefit more than they did.

She felt herself drawn to the windows. Outside, the lawn was growing wild, although it looked like somebody was having a manful stab at it every now and then, with mixed results. Mist was curling in from the sea, entwining in the trees at the bottom of the garden. It was rather eerie. But hang on a minute, was that a croquet hoop?

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screamed.

“What is it?” Louise dropped her handbag and rushed over.

“A face! A face at the window!” yelped Katie, her heart thumping so hard it was difficult to catch her breath. Louise looked up. Through the filthy windows it was just possible to make out a very shocked-looking face.

“LAIRD KENNEDY!” squealed Louise, although he was already at the door.

“What on earth was that noise?” said the Laird. “I thought I had a pig in labour.”

Swallowing hard, Louise stepped towards the window, holding Katie’s hand. Katie was shaking violently—and the face had disappeared.

“He’s gone!” said Katie.

“Well, that’s settled then,” said the Laird. “Tea? In the sitting room I think—it’s a bit draughty in here.”

“But . . . there was a man . . . a man . . .”

“Och, there’s people up around about all the time,” said Kennedy. “They think the place is deserted. Can’t think why.” He turned around.

Katie looked at Louise. Then they all heard a clattering at the back of the house.

“It’s my mugger,” said Katie. “He’s come up from London, not satisfied with frightening the crap out of me down there.” She was scared out of her wits.

“HELLO!” shouted the Laird.

“KENNEDY,” a voice shouted back. “I just got the most bollocking fright!”

The girls turned around, as a very pale Iain lurched into the room.

“Good God, you two,” he gasped. Then he leaned on the doorframe and smiled weakly. “I’m an idiot.”

Katie’s heart nearly dribbled out of her feet with relief—and lust. “That was you,” she said.

“God, yeah,” he said. “Jings. I was just coming up to have a word with Jock about trying to screw Har . . . never mind. And I thought I saw a woman kind of dancing about.”

“I was not dancing about!” said Katie. “Well, not consciously.”

“And I thought, that can’t be right . . . no women around here, so I came for a look, and then a banshee kind of started screaming . . .”

“Did you think we were ghosts?” asked Louise, looking amused.

“No,” said Iain quickly.

“Why are you so white in the face then?”

“Well, look at Katie, she’s shaking.”

“I’ll go get the tea,” said Kennedy.

“I’ll help,” said Louise quickly.

Iain and Katie looked at each other when they were alone.

“Sorry,” said Katie. “I got . . . I got mugged in London. A while back. I scare easily.”

“I’ll say,” said Iain. “But I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Hey,” said Katie. “He didn’t hurt me. Just made me susceptible to weirdo stalkers that creep up through the undergrowth.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to mention. Most girls I date like to take out the restraining order pretty much straight away.”

Katie swallowed hard. So were they dating now? “What are you really doing here, anyway?”

“Jock wants me to take some photographs. He’s thinking of advertising in a lonely hearts mag, and thinks photos of his house might go down better than him.”

“He’s got a point,” said Katie, as they made their way to the room next door, which was a smaller, but still gigantic, sitting room, and this time shabbily furnished. A fire was burning in the grate, and Louise was pouring out tea while sitting in a high-backed floral armchair.

“You look quite the lady of the manor,” said Katie, taking a place on a sofa that still had antimacassars.

Laird Kennedy’s ears pricked up. “Are you looking for a husband?” he asked expectantly.

“Quite the opposite,” said Louise. “I’m just beginning to enjoy the young, free, and single life. But I’m sure there are about a million gorgeous girls in London who would jump at the chance.”

Katie nodded enthusiastically.

“They need to be rich though,” said the Laird. “I need a bunch of money for this place.”

“Oh well, I wouldn’t have been any help to you anyway,” said Louise.