Where Have All the Boys Gone?(41)

“Working in a pie shop in the middle of nowhere? Wow, that does sound happy,” said Katie, who was angry enough to have her mouth/brain overdrive popping into gear. “Hey, maybe next you could eat all the pies and win Pop Idol.”

The girl took a step back, narrowing her eyes. Katie realised straight away she hadn’t been to an all-girls’ school. Katie was a girl’s girl, no doubt about it, but she had spent her formative years in an all-female psychotic bitch fight and had picked up a few tricks along the way. Kelpie, on the other hand, was probably more used to boys laughing and teasing her. Which was good, in that Katie could say lots of mean things to her. But bad, in that Kelpie was entirely capable of turning around and punching her in the face.

Both sides eyed each other warily.

“Do you often pick on people for no good reason?” asked Katie, trying to defuse the situation.

“Just bitches who deserve it,” said Kelpie.

“How incredibly pathetic,” said Katie, and walked off, trying her best to look cool, even though her heart was bursting through her ears.

“Right, that’s it—youse are fucked,” said Kelpie, her voice becoming swamped by the people milling around them. Katie was desperately trying to reach Louise before she disappeared into the marquee, but she was just too late; with a flick of her flowery skirt (where had that come from? Katie wondered—at home Louise lived in Earl jeans and high-heeled boots) Louise had vanished.

INSIDE THE TENT, it was hot and crowded, the smell of sugar slightly cloying amidst the mass of male bodies in muddy boots. Katie was shorter than everyone else there and couldn’t see over the flat caps. But, inching closer to the shortbread miniature castle, she heard Louise’s voice.

“Mmm, yes, this is just lovely . . . so tasty and delicious.”

Katie rolled her eyes. For goodness’ sake, Louise, these men were already sex-starved—they didn’t need flirting with. She could just make them form an orderly queue.

Katie found a gap in the crowd. Behind each pile of baking stood a different man, trying to look humbly proud of his offerings, and blushing formidably as Louise sampled each one. Making a mental plea that there wouldn’t be any cream horns on offer, Katie found a space by the side of the tables and tried to slip through.

“Katie!” Louise greeted her joyfully. “Come and help me sample these lovely treats!”

Katie caught sight of Harry standing at the far end of the tent, eyeing her with consternation. She shot him an apologetic look.

“Louise, I have to talk to you. Also, there’s some girls chasing us who want to beat you up.”

Louise stared at her. “Why?”

Katie looked around, agonised, at Louise’s cohort of companions. “Um . . . for being too pretty to live in the village.”

Louise screwed up one eye. “Did they call me a slut-bag?”

“No. Um, I believe the word they used was, err, slut-bucket.”

Louise looked disgruntled. “Oh well. The boys like me.”

Katie grabbed her hard by her floral sleeve. “Just come over here.”

Louise actually batted her eyelids dramatically at the men waiting with their pinnies on. “Back soon, boys.”

Katie dragged her to the ladies’ bathroom, which she imagined would be completely deserted, until she noticed the man washing the chicken in the sink. “Nice cock,” said Louise sotto voce as Katie bundled her out of the door.

A small Portakabin was standing there, with a little rough wooden staircase leading up to it. Katie headed up it, checking around to make sure nobody could see them enter, then tried the door. It opened into a completely bare room with some technical equipment stacked at the far end.

“It’s probably for the best,” Louise said. “You know, keep ’em mean and all that.”

“Louise,” said Katie, trying to intimate by her tone that she was being serious. “Louise, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“You’re chucking in the job with tightass Barr,” said Louise instantly. “And you’re going to run off with that foxy newspaper man and do a Jennifer Lopez.”

“No! God, no, I can’t leave this job. Harry’s completely clueless. If I leave, and he continues his ‘sit on his arse and wait until Tuesday’ policy, those guys will buy up his huge precious forest, bulldoze it, stick a golf course there, and that’ll be it, job done. I can’t leave. Plus, yes, Iain is a bit foxy . . . anyway, that’s not the point. It’s not.”

Louise looked up at her.

“Look, Louise, it’s Clara. And Max.”

There was a pause. It lengthened into an uncomfortable one as they looked at each other.

Finally Louise spoke. “See, I think if you were about to say that they’d split up and Max desperately wanted me back, you might have said it by now.”

Katie nodded her head.

Suddenly, the door to the Portakabin burst open.

Harry was standing there, white-faced and trembling with fury. The girls stared at him. Too cross even to speak, he pointed his head at the roof of the trailer. On it were several large black shapes which, if you looked at them closely, resolved themselves to be speakers, whilst, as if in a magic eye picture, the black boxes at the end of the room resolved themselves in front of Katie’s eyes to be a microphone and recording equipment for the show’s PA system, which was apparently switched on.