Where Have All the Boys Gone?(76)

“Um, something of a magnet for, uh, hen nights.”

“You are joking,” said Louise.

“I think maybe we’re better off with the golfers,” said Katie.

The pinkmobile stopped short at the lights, then whisked onwards. Coming the other way, a large black limo with six women inside it wearing cheap veils honked their horns.

“Oh God,” said Katie, “we’ve created a monster.”

“That’s why we need you,” said Harry. “We’re completely overrun. They’re frightening the life out of the techies. And the sheep.”

“Well, this is good, isn’t it?” said Katie. “Lots of people around, lots of money coming in, and lots of the types of girls that frighten the types of men who like to play golf.”

“Not everyone sees it as a good thing,” said Harry. “Aunt Senga, for example, is beside herself. She thinks western civilisation is coming to an end.”

“I’d have thought she’d like nice girls getting married,” said Katie. Ahead, the pink convertible was stopping. One of the girls got out to be sick.

“Ah,” said Katie.

“Kennedy is very excited,” said Harry. “The ball is going to be huge. We promised him a cut, so he can fix his roof.”

“I guess that’s fair,” said Katie. “What about his cut for when marauding hordes of girls vomit all over the priceless antiques?”

“It’s not the girls so much,” said Harry as they drove through town. Everywhere, there were women, of every shape and size, pretending to look in shop windows or be admiring the view, but all the time their eyes were searching everywhere. Every lone male walking past was under intense scrutiny. It was entirely peculiar. “It’s more the older ladies who come on their own. They stand in the town square and dart after men, like bairns chasing chickens.”

“Bloody hell,” said Louise, endearingly blind to her own romantic history. “Blooming mad slappers.”

“Has your aunt kept a room for us?” asked Katie.

Harry nodded. “It’s the same one, I’m afraid. Just because she disapproves of our new visitors doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to make money out of them.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Katie. “Do you know what would be a good way to keep out a golf course? Build a luxury hotel.”

Harry smiled at her. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your coming up with ideas part of the job is over. Now, you’re just helping us with crowd control. Come on anyway, we need to get to the office. Louise, we’ll drop you off.”

“Show us your arse!” shouted three girls at Harry from the street. “Is it blue?”

“Crowd control and damage control.”

“OH MY GOD, we have so much to do,” said Katie, looking around the familiar office. Paper seemed to have piled up everywhere since she’d been away.

“Hello Derek,” she said. “It’s good to be back. How are you enjoying the influx then? Found a nice girl?”

Derek didn’t look happy at all. “I suppose,” he said. “They’re making a bit of a mess up at the caravan park.”

“Good,” said Katie. “Hopefully all those retired golfers will think it’s an encampment of travellers and run a mile. Gosh, I should have got some of my sister’s old cronies up here, to do naked dances around the trees in the moonlight. How could I not have thought of that?”

“Because you were busy thinking up all the other naked things people could be doing?” said Harry. He had a pencil in his mouth and was carrying huge sheaves of paper. “OK,” he said. He took a slug of the coffee Katie had brought him. “You know, this stuff isn’t actually that bad when you get used to it.”

“Horse piss,” said Derek. The other two looked up, surprised. “Sorry,” he said, hanging his head. “Haven’t been myself lately.”

“OK,” said Harry. “Here’s the to-do list. Number one: ‘have a ball.’ Number two: ‘stop the golf course.’ Number three: ‘save the forest.’”

“You’ve never written a to-do list before, have you?” asked Katie gently.

“Uh, why?” asked Harry, looking defensive.

“No reason. OK, have you got a sub-list for the ball?”

“A what?”

“A list of all the things you need to sort out for the ball. Tickets and things like that.”

“We’ve sold all the tickets!” said Harry. “In fact, the town shop ran out.”

“Ran out of what?” said Katie.

“Raffle tickets. That’s what I was using for tickets.”

Katie took a deep breath. “So, for the most exclusive and exciting ball in Scotland . . . you were using tickets identical to those that can be bought for twenty pence in the local shop?”

Harry thought about that for a second. “But people wouldn’t . . . they wouldn’t cheat like that, would they? Would they?”

“You wouldn’t,” said Katie. “The rest of them, we’ll just have to see. At least you’ll have the stubs of the tickets, so we can compare serial numbers if we have to.”

Harry looked at Derek in some consternation. Derek ducked out of the room.