Where Have All the Boys Gone?(49)

“It wasn’t Iain’s fault, really, was it?” protested Katie. “I mean, he was a child, he had to do what his dad said.”

“He was twelve,” said Harry. “And we spent our lives sneaking places. But he never bothered sneaking over to us. So, well, so. Who cares anyway? It’s not really important.”

“It is,” said Katie. She leaned out and patted him gently on the hand. Francis rolled a lazy eye towards them from where he was dozing on the floor. They were silent for a moment, whilst Katie searched for something comforting to say without accidentally blurting out “they’ll build that golf course over my dead body” or something equally terrible and tactless.

“So,” said Harry, after a very long pause. “Still glad you’re not fired?”

Katie nodded. Though inside she was feeling very mixed up about Iain. Surely, when you were so young, and had a really aggressive parent . . . of course Harry would hate him, that was beyond question. But it wasn’t his fault, not really. Kids didn’t even understand dying or stuff like that. Plus, that would explain why Iain didn’t get on with his own father.

“Did he ever try to apologise?” she asked quickly.

“Iain? Yes. So what?”

“Nothing,” said Katie, but she felt slightly relieved. There you go. Such an awful misunderstanding when they were children, and Harry had been so cut up about losing his mother he’d never been able to forgive him. Understandable, but it didn’t make Iain an evil person. She could even understand Iain’s point of view—he was probably really pissed off after all this time that he couldn’t even talk to his old friend. Her heart leaped. Maybe, by their work on this, she could bring them back together. Then Harry would be happy and not miserable all the time, and she and Iain could get together and everything would be great and, and, well . . . There she let her fantasy peter out. Um, maybe they could all move to London, or Surrey or something—it had a forest, didn’t it?—and she and Iain could rear organic chickens or something.

“Are you still here?” said Harry. “You look miles away.”

“I was feeling sorry for you,” said Katie stoutly. “Didn’t think you’d want pity.”

“’Course I don’t,” said Harry gruffly. “I want plans. And lunch. You?”

“You go,” said Katie. “I had enough breakfast to fuel a battleship. Let me get some thoughts on paper.”

“LETTING CHILDREN SPONSOR a woodland creature?”

“Actually, I think most kids would rather shoot the woodland creatures. Plus, nobody ever wants the snakes and beetles and stuff, and all the special interest groups get pissed off.”

“Special interest groups for beetles?”

“You have no idea,” said Harry. “This is one tough job.”

“OK. Road blockades and we build a big wall across the trees.”

“That would be a good idea, Katie, only it’s illegal and would result in us being sent to prison.”

Katie glanced at her clipboard. “So bribing the planning committee should probably go too?”

“I think my aunt’s breakfast is addling your brain.”

After phoning Olivia, who had sent them that morning by Federal Express three packets of Fairtrade coffee and a cafetiere, even though she personally never touched caffeine, wheat, or carbohydrates and who was delighted that the whole thing was moving, and pouring lovely coffee for Louise and Craig the Vet who popped in, Louise blabbering on somewhat incoherently about the miracle of lamb birth (though without mentioning the miracle of Clara and Max’s imminent birth, thankfully) and Craig making gagging gestures over the coffee until she put six sugars in it, Katie had tried to get down to business. It wasn’t as easy as she’d envisaged to come up with a brilliant forest-saving scheme.

In fact, there wasn’t—short of confronting Iain’s dad, which felt like a terrible idea on about sixteen different levels—one single solution at all. They needed at least three categories—money-raising, media, and direct action—and goodness knows how many approaches.

“Getting all the other woodland folk out on a march.”

“When you say ‘woodland folk,’ you do mean people working for other forests, and not elves and pixies and what not?”

“Of course,” said Katie. “Sadly.”

“Well, maybe,” said Harry. “But a lot of them have already been forced into our position. They might not be that disposed to taking our side, when they haven’t saved their own areas and have ended up with holiday parks strewn all over them.”

“One of those naked ‘Calendar Girls’ calendars, except with hot-looking local boys? Louise can do the research.”

“For the fiftieth time, I don’t want any arses in this campaign, blue or otherwise.”

“OK,” said Katie. “Plus, we really need to do a benefit. A big party, to raise money for the fighting fund. Then we can buy advertising, and come up with slogans and do mailshots and proper things. We don’t necessarily have to man the barricades, we just need to suggest we might, and that we’ll make so much trouble they’d better go somewhere else.”

Harry looked askance at this. “That doesn’t seem very fair, does it? If we win, then they just go off and ruin somebody else’s beauty spot.”