Where Have All the Boys Gone?(75)

Chapter Seventeen


The little trundling train was just as she remembered it from before, except this time someone was carrying a piglet instead of a lamb, and talking to it in a low guttural croon. Watching the little pink body reminded Katie of Clara’s baby, and made her squirm a bit, and she turned to talk to Louise. Louise, however, was elsewhere, staring out of the window dreamily, pausing only occasionally to mention another outrageous habit of Olivia’s, often to do with the “it’s yoga, you must fart at will” programme.

“Have you ever seen . . . you know, a sky that big?” asked Louise. “How come we never noticed it before?”

“Because you were moaning about the cappuccino.”

“Not this time!” said Louise, patting her rucksack, where she had stowed six packets of Starbucks’ finest. “What do you think would happen if I opened up a Starbucks?”

“Kelpie would burn it down.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She went back to regarding the flowering hills—there were still daffodils blooming here, even though all signs of spring were long gone in the sweltering South. There were even tiny patches of snow still visible on top of the mountains. Louise was sighing with happiness.

“So, what happens now?” she asked Katie.

“Hmm,” said Katie. “Well, we put this ball on, I guess. I don’t think . . .” her voice trailed off as she stared out of the window.

“I don’t know how long we can stay on after that. This should get a lot of coverage, and really bring matters to a head if it’s well attended, and if, even better, we get some celebs involved, they’re going to have to face us across the board table sooner or later.”

“Are you sure you can’t just get Iain to go and talk to his father?”

Katie smiled ruefully. She thought of Iain, too scared to go and visit a dying woman. His father was probably even more frightening. She’d done a bit of research into his company, and “ruthless businessman” didn’t even begin to cut it.

“Well, probably not, for two reasons: one, I think he’s probably a bit . . . he probably doesn’t think it will help. And two, I am certainly not going to phone him up and ask him.”

“Is that still getting to you? It was ages ago.”

“Is what still getting to me? The fact that the only man I’ve slept with in a year went completely AWOL the second I left his bed and never contacted me once?”

“Och, nonsense, he’s probably scared stiff of you. Give the boy a chance. After all, who’s the competition?”

“Louise,” said Katie sternly.

“Uh-huh?”

“Did you just say ‘och?’”

“Of course not.”

“You sure?”

“Aye.”

THE STATION HALT was bathed in late afternoon sunshine, with a fresh sharp wind that felt good all the way through Katie’s bones.

“Oh God . . . it’s just so nice to be able to breathe again. Although I’m sure we’ll be moaning about the weather in no time, blah blah blah.”

Louise nodded. Then she pointed across the long moor.

“Hurray! Is that Harry in his Land-Rover?”

It was. He bumped up to meet them, and stepped out, looking a little bit shamefacedly in Katie’s direction.

“Hi,” he said shyly.

“Hello!” said Louise, giving him a big bear hug. “You look great!”

He did look good—he’d caught a touch of the sun on his cheekbones, and his hair had grown longer. He still looked like a young Gordon Brown. But now, Katie, for the life of her couldn’t remember why she had ever thought this was a bad thing.

“Well, I see I’m not in the kennel with everyone.” He smiled.

“Oh, I forgot. You were a pig on Richard and Judy,” said Louise sternly. “Then that actress got her baps out and I forgot all about it.”

Harry looked shamefaced again. “Can I heartily apologise?”

“For sure.” Louise threw her backpack into the back of the Land-Rover. “Hello, Francis.”

“Hi,” said Harry to Katie.

Katie gave him a half-smile. She was remembering the first time they’d met there. It seemed a long time ago now.

“Hey,” she said. Francis padded over to her, which for him was just about running. “Hello there,” she said, as he licked her hand.

“Uh, thanks for coming,” said Harry, looking a little pink.

“No problem,” said Katie. “Once they’d stuck the bag over my head and bundled me into the back of the van, the rest was a breeze.”

“So, what’s new?” said Louise, holding on to Francis in the back seat.

“Actually, ehm, quite a lot,” said Harry. They stopped in the queue at the lights.

“What’s that?” asked Louise suspiciously.

“It’s a new traffic light. They had to put it in because of all the traffic.”

Sure enough, there were cars all over the road.

“Who are these people?” said Louise, a testy note creeping into her voice.

“Uh, well, we seem to have become . . .” Harry’s voice was suddenly drowned out by a pink convertible car screeching past them, playing “Holding Out for a Hero” at full volume. Leaning out of the car and shrieking were at least five women in varying states of undress, waving bottles and with L plates on their backs. Louise and Katie stared at it in disbelief.