Where Have All the Boys Gone?(78)

Sure enough, opposite them were two women who could have been anywhere between thirty-five and fifty, caked in make-up, favouring the bright red and pink style of Christine Hamilton. Over the top of their button-up shirts they were both wearing T-shirts that read, “Going like a blue-arsed fly to the men of Fairlish.”

“Oh Christ,” said Louise.

Katie covered her eyes with her hand. No wonder Harry had called her; he really had been desperate.

They paused briefly at the door of the Mermaid.

“Come on then,” said Louise. “If they’ve turned it into a theme pub we’ll just turn tail and go home.”

It wasn’t quite that bad. In fact, as the evening light shone through into the bar, Katie realised that someone had washed the windows.

“Hello Lachlan,” she said.

Lachlan’s little head was popping over the bar as usual, but there was something different about him.

“Lachlan—are you wearing a Von Dutch cap?” asked Louise, moving forward.

The bar was absolutely spilling over with women. The men were lined up against the windows and the fireplace, with an expression of hunted animals on their faces.

“Why, I’m sure I don’t know,” said Lachlan. His little pink face was even pinker than usual. Two blondes of uncertain vintage were leaning against the bar, drinking the yellow wine and looking at him in an adoring way.

“Hullo lassies.”

Louise and Katie looked around nervously. Katie in particular wasn’t exactly sure how popular she’d be with the locals, now she’d brought hermageddon down on them. After all, everything had been just fine before they’d arrived, give or take a forest or two.

Lachlan’s face, however, had broken into a large grin and he was already reaching up for the vodka bottles. As they moved forward, several of the chaps nodded at them and waved.

“Louise!” said a booming voice, someone leaped in front of them from the dartboard. Katie thought it might have been Iain, and took a nervous step back, but it was just Craig the Vet.

“Craig!” squealed Louise. “What’s going on? Have you turned half the men into women as some sort of grisly experiment?”

“No,” said Craig. “They all just kind of turned up one day. It’s a bit like that movie.”

“What . . . if you build it they will come?” asked Katie.

“No . . . Dawn of the Dead,” said Craig the Vet. “Can I buy you two a drink?”

“Aren’t you getting me a drink?” cooed a highly-pitched, instantly grating voice from the corner. There sat a pudgy-faced woman, whose more than ample form was poured into a milkmaid top which laced up at the bodice.

“Um, in a minute,” said Craig nervously.

“Ah. The new Mrs. The-Vet?” asked Louise brightly.

“No . . . no, just some woman.”

“I’ll have a double please, Craig dear,” yelped the newcomer.

“Well, Craig, dear . . . what on earth has been happening?” asked Louise.

Katie, having ascertained that there was no sign of Iain in the bar (almost certainly off in the sand dunes having it away with one of the new residents, she thought immediately), had relaxed a little, and was looking around with interest. Who were these people?

“It was after you were on television—you were very good, by the way,” said Craig, even though Katie knew this was clearly a lie. “Suddenly all the caravans over at Lochmanagruich were booked, just like that. Then they just started arriving. They’re all mad.”

“Craig,” said Katie. “You don’t have a sniff of a woman for years and years, then you turn into every other man on the planet and insist we’re all crazy and you’d never commit to one. Next thing you’ll be saying you like curves on women, then only go out with sticks with grapefruits stapled onto their chests.”

Craig looked at her. “Has being famous gone to her head?” he said to Louise. “I didn’t understand a word of that.”

“She’s ranting,” said Louise. “Now, tell me, how are all the animals?”

“What, all of them? Well, I’ve got this crocodile with dysentery . . .”

Katie kept half listening in to the conversation, but wasn’t really that interested. Instead, she took a leisurely look around. There weren’t half the men she remembered from last time.

“It’s great, you know, really,” said Lachlan to her in a quiet voice. “Thanks for all the muff you’ve sent our way.”

“Lachlan!” said Katie.

“Sorry, sorry. Young ladies, that’s what I mean. Young and not so young ladies of course . . . yes,” he said, serving two largish women pints of cider and black.

“But, where is . . . everyone?”

She meant Iain, but Lachlan didn’t know that of course.

“Well, mostly they’re at home, up to their nuts in guts . . . sorry, I mean, entertaining some of our new guests. Particularly the techies. It’s been a godsend to them. Although probably a terrible drawback to medical science.”

“I bet,” said Katie.

Lachlan mistook her glumness for being offended. “I’m sorry about the way I speak . . . not really used to lassies, you ken what I mean?”

“’Course,” said Katie, watching him beam with pleasure as a curly-haired girl patted him on the head and declared he was just the cutest thing she’d ever seen.