Where Have All the Boys Gone?(84)

But the whole town had definitely developed a carnival atmosphere. Ceilidh music could be heard everywhere, as people spilled out onto the streets to practise dance steps. Some of the small shops in the high street had put up signs welcoming the visitors and saying “NO TO GOLF,” and within about five minutes, it seemed, there were many signs in people’s windows too.

Couple this with the news that, yes, Ewan McGregor would be coming, as well as Hamish Clark and at least one hobbit, and the whole town had turned into one heaving hormonal mass of excitement, and shops as far away as Edinburgh were reporting their ball dresses completely sold out. Even Clara and Mum, at home, sounded envious, although Clara said she was simply envious of anyone at the moment who could walk more than two paces without collapsing in a heap and needing to go to the toilet, and warned Katie against getting involved with any of the men, even if there were any left after the locust girls had been at them. Katie assured her this was very unlikely to be the case.

LOUISE THREW HER little black dress on the bed. “I wish I’d brought something fancier now,” she said.

Olivia looked up from where she was attempting to apply Touche Eclat at the wall-mounted sink unit. Being Olivia, of course, she had known about a divine little hippy spa only open to muesli-munching yoga freaks, in a castle down the road—“It’s a gorgeous place, you should see it. Only you can’t, non-believers mess up the chi lines, you see”—and was ensconced in some splendour, after choking and spluttering at Louise and Katie’s attic.

“I’m so sorry,” she’d said. “I didn’t realise it was this bad. But surely, you could have a total life detox in here?”

“Yes,” Katie said, who had actually got used to the house by now, and rather liked its Presbyterian ambience, stability, and deep deep quiet. “Total detox of everything except spiders.”

“And dust bunnies,” said Louise. “That’s a very friendly name for a very nasty thing.”

It was the day of the party. Still raining outside. Katie had done, she thought, as much as she could possibly do, and indeed, their phones had gone eerily quiet, at least for now. Harry was at the site all day, making sure marquee pegs were put in place and collecting umbrellas to help transport people from their cars across the muddy grounds. Kennedy had offered his main hall as a mingling area, which they’d accepted with relief—it looked like their fantasies of people swanning about the lawn, champers in hand, were going to have to be put on hold. Derek had got hold of a list with guests’ names on it, which should hopefully keep out the worst of the gatecrashers. Kelpie had done a forced march around the farms and the institute and recruited forty young men as waiters with a mixture of threats of sex and/or violence.

Louise was staring sadly at her dress. Katie turned back to the paper. Still no sign of Iain. She assumed he was up at the caravan park, where most of the women were staying, and she certainly wasn’t going to stalk him. She was going to anti-stalk him, in fact, and avoided the high street unless absolutely necessary.

In fact, Iain had also been avoiding town and doing a lot of walking across the moors, and a lot of thinking. If this party was a success, he could see his dad losing this one. Which would be interesting. And Katie would go. He still couldn’t believe how much he’d messed it up, what an idiot he’d been. He remembered back to college; he’d been great then. No probs, girls all over the place in a big city. But coming back to a small town . . . he’d lost his confidence somewhere along the way. And he had to be brave, and go for it. But, deep down, he didn’t think he was a very brave person. In fact, from the age of eleven, he’d known for a fact he wasn’t.

KATIE TURNED TO the editorial. All week it had been wonderful, bigging up the night, and the town, and never stopping from hammering home the anti-golf message. The second page today was taken over by “A Message from This Paper.”



* * *



Don’t mistake it for a moment. Every hundred years or so, an event comes along that defines a town, for ever. And this is ours. Reading between the lines, this is not just a party for us. Kind of, more the start of a whole new age. Attracting a new profile for the town. Today, Fairlish—tomorrow, the world? It’s certainly a chance to put ourselves on the map. Even if we’re not all sure we want so much change.

I say, yes we do. Maybe some people will see change as difficult, as new to this town. I think we should embrace it with all our hearts. Some people say our little home is all right as it is. Sod them, say I! Yes, Fairlish is changing, but it’s still our place in the world, and letting other people in to share it can only be a good thing. Often in this life, people don’t act in time, or act at all, to do the right thing. Until now—and our time is now.



* * *



IT WAS A little floral, thought Katie. Not Iain’s style at all. Oh well, maybe he’d just got a bit overemotional—nothing wrong with that.

“The thing is,” Louise was saying, “I never really thought you’d pull it off.”

“You are joking,” said Katie. “We’ve got the cream of Scottish society coming. Plus five hundred sex-crazed maniacs from around the world.”

“I know,” said Louise sadly. “OK, put it this way—I never thought I’d have to work that hard to stand out.”

Katie thought of her own outfit—she hadn’t, subconsciously, really thought about it either, and was going to have to wear a white sheer top with her fifties’ skirt. She was slightly concerned that she’d be mistaken for one of the waitresses.