Where Have All the Boys Gone?(81)

“Don’t be stupid. He’s a stuffed shirt.”

“A beef-stuffed shirt,” said Louise.

“Who else is doing this stupid auction thing?” asked Katie, changing the subject. She didn’t want to discuss Iain any more. Too painful. Or Harry for that matter. Too confusing.

“Well, Laird Kennedy said he was up for it, but I pointed out that as he owned the castle they were eating in, that should probably do it for the ladies. He said no, he needs the money to fix the roof, and he’s going to open the bidding at ten thousand pounds.”

“OK,” said Katie. “Who else?”

“Willie, of course.”

“They’re tempting him out of his bothy? Wow.”

“I know,” said Louise, looking dreamy for a second. “Lucky girl who gets him.”

“OK, OK. I thought we were pretending you were just going on long country walks those times.”

“Were we?” Louise blinked. “OK then. Lachlan too. A bunch of techies—I think they’re doing it as a group prize.”

“Don’t tell me—if you win them you get to play Dungeons and Dragons with them for a whole night?”

“They also said they’re going to order pizza from Inverness. It costs ￡100 apparently.”

“To order a pizza?”

“Newsflash: ‘we’re not in North London shocker.’”

“It will be if we can’t get rid of all these women and this bloody golf course.”

Having lost their bakery pariah status, they felt confident in ordering the apple pie, which was slightly better than the shepherd’s pie, though somewhat similar in consistency.

“Iain of course,” said Louise, after a period of time.

“Of course,” said Katie. “Cocky idiot.”

“I take it you won’t be bidding?”

“I might, to save another woman from having to go through what I went through,” said Katie.

“And Harry, I suppose.”

Katie sniggered. “You wish.”

“Why not? He’ll have to. It’s his party.”

“Getting Harry in a toga? I think not.”

“Well, don’t forget a lot of women came because they saw him on telly. I think he’ll make a lot of money.”

Katie shook her head. “Well, if that happens, it’ll be something of a miracle.” She scooped up the last of her apple pie. “You know, I’m almost starting to look forward to this.”

“What do you mean, almost?” asked Louise.





Chapter Eighteen


So, I thought we could get the Cubs in to clean it,” Laird Kennedy was saying.

Katie was following him around the house. It had certainly been a lot better in her memory than it was in watery daylight. There were cobwebs and missing windowpanes everywhere.

“The Cubs?” she said.

“Yeah, you know, bob a job.”

Katie kicked at some bird poop, which had come through the rickety ceiling and encrusted itself on the floorboards. Her head felt dusty just walking through the door.

“So, you think the Cubs will overhaul this place in time for Saturday for five pence?” she said wearily. This was a stupid idea. Stupid stupid stupid. OK, she’d managed to find a marquee, but it was only useful for dinner and dancing. Drinks and general meanderings were meant to take part in the main house. And the main house at the moment looked slightly more fit for playing the film set of a condemned haunted mental institution. “Maybe there’s a big contract cleaners in Inverness,” she said. “There must be, surely.”

She thought worriedly about their finances. They’d sold a lot of tickets, but she wanted to preserve as much money as she could, so Harry could fund lawyers and anything else he might need after she’d gone.

“Naw, it’ll be fine,” said Kennedy, clearly oblivious to the huge hole in the elbow of his hacking jacket. “In fact, they’re on their way over.”

For a split second, she had the image in her mind’s eye of a thousand tiny wee boys running over the house like rats. “Really?”

The Laird steered her out to the sadly overgrown lawn. “Of course,” he said, “it’s really their dads we’re after.”

As he spoke, in the distance, Katie suddenly caught sight of a line of men and boys walking towards them, silhouetted against the trees. They were carrying brooms and mops.

The Laird watched them happily. “Fishermen,” he said. “Best cleaners in the world.”

Katie thought of the times she’d seen them washing out their boats and fixing their nets down at the port, and was inclined to agree.

“There’s not enough work for them any more,” said Kennedy sadly. “It’s all going. And if the golfers come here and price them out of their homes, they’re done for. They know that.”

Katie felt suddenly overwhelmed with melancholy watching these strong men, who’d farmed the same oceans for so many generations, get in line to fight for their village and their forest. She felt a lump in her throat.

“Thank you,” she found herself saying.

“Hmph,” said the Laird gruffly. “Now, if you don’t have time to get stuck in with a duster, I’d get out of here, sharpish.”