Where Have All the Boys Gone?(74)

“You can stay in and look after yourself for a change. What, you need Katie to babysit?”

“She likes keeping me company.”

“Katie, you need your eyebrows waxed,” ordered Louise. “Olivia would have a shit fit. In fact, she will, because we’re meeting her in twenty-five minutes. Come on. We’re out of here.”

Leaving Clara protesting on the sofa, Louise bundled Katie into the only decent clean top she had left in her wardrobe and out of the door, into a cab and straight off to YYY, a gorgeous new bar which had opened up on the river, just underneath the big wheel, where you could drink overpriced cocktails and stare at tourists as they looked inquisitively at the one-way mirrored glass that made up the walls. It was noisy and air-conditioned on the inside; the terrace, however, was quiet, and they could watch a heavy and beautifully sallow pollution sunset sink behind the Houses of Parliament.

“What’s this?” asked Katie. “An intervention?”

“Yes,” said Olivia, as soon as she’d put gigantic vodka and tonics in front of the three of them. “You have been useless since you came home and chucked that job in.”

“I did not ‘chuck’ the job in. The client was impossibly rude to us, and I’d finished the work anyway. Pretty much. Kind of. Well, nothing they can’t handle.”

“They can’t handle it,” said Olivia.

“NO,” said Katie. “No no no no no. I’m not going up there again. I can’t handle the humiliation. Plus, I can’t, anyway. In case you hadn’t noticed, Clara’s having a baby.”

“And you’re the father?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Well, you’re certainly behaving like it.”

“The Forestry Commission have been in touch,” said Louise. “They want you back up there.”

“Well, you seem to know a lot about my business,” said Katie.

“She snoops,” said Olivia. The two girls looked at each other. It didn’t seem like the last few weeks had been a particular bundle of laughs for them either.

“They want someone to help out on their big party night.”

“Have they thought about hiring some waitresses?”

Olivia ignored her and went on regardless. “So, anyway, you’re going. You need to write up the final report so we can bill them for it.”

“I can’t! The ball’s next month, which is exactly when the baby’s due.”

“The ball’s in two weeks, which is three weeks before her due date,” said Louise. “You’ll have plenty of time. Get your mum in to look after her. Or she could look after herself. Plenty of people do.”

Katie considered this. Inside, she couldn’t help it, there was a part of her that wanted to go back again, just to see what was happening. And, God, she really really needed to get her car. It hadn’t mattered much at first, and she’d put it to the back of her mind, but now she needed to pick up cribs, and get car seats, and what not . . . yes, all the fuss of having a baby without actually having one.

“It’s not up for consideration,” said Olivia. “Go finish the job.”

“And I’ll come too!” said Louise. “To help you drive the car home.”

Katie looked at Olivia.

“I found the money in the budget to authorise that,” said Olivia, her face a mask. “Of course, she’ll have to help out . . . maybe stay a few days.”

Katie wasn’t entirely convinced about using company funds just to get a few days of peace and quiet, but from the look on Louise’s face, it was entirely worth it.

“Now—let’s have a few drinks and verbally emasculate any remaining men in the room!”

“Yay!” they all chinked glasses.

CLARA WASN’T PLEASED. This was an understatement. Clara acted as though she’d never been betrayed in this way before, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. But Katie reassured her constantly that everything was going to be fine, she was no distance away (a total lie, but Clara had only ever been to Third World countries and the sites of ancient druidic ruins, so didn’t know anything about where rural Scotland was likely to be).

Katie also plucked up the courage to phone her mother to give her an ultimatum, then, just at the last minute, as she was about to go into her pre-prepared spiel, something stopped her. Clara was looking at her bump in the mirror, and self-pityingly complaining how she was never going to get back into her size six hipsters (although at least she’d stopped trying to squeeze into Katie’s “fat day” jeans). When her mother answered, and started complaining about how her ears really hurt when she was too close to the phone when it rang, Katie took a deep breath. Then she handed the phone to her sister.

“You talk to her.”

“Me?” Clara looked outraged.

“If you want her, you talk to her,” said Katie, hands held over the speaking end.

Clara huffed her breath out and gestured with her hands for Katie to talk to her.

Katie put the phone down and walked out of the room.

In her bedroom, heart pounding, she waited, for what seemed like an agonisingly long time. Then, finally, she heard Clara tentatively start to speak. Feeling suddenly as if a weight had been lifted off her, she opened her suitcase and started to pack.