Where Have All the Boys Gone?(90)

“All this?” she said. “It’s . . . just great, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“And everyone seems to be having a good time.”

Everyone, reflected Katie, except for the two of them.

Dinner was excruciating, as Katie was completely unable to make any kind of conversation, and it became increasingly clear to Harry that he’d given himself away. She was clearly mortified and desperate to get out of his sight as fast as she reasonably could.

It was just, he’d kind of thought that Iain nonsense was over with once and for all; he’d seen Iain out and about with the cavalcade of ladies who’d arrived, and he knew what Iain was like. Weak. No match really for a bolshy character like Katie. God, why had he been such a stupid prick in London? It hadn’t even hit home, until he realised just how much he missed her when she went back. It wasn’t the same around the office, with just Derek and Francis on hand. He missed her habit of asking awkward questions all the time, and dashing off to do things, and, well, he just missed her and that was all there was to it.

So they talked about the food, which was surprisingly good and almost completely poison free, as far as Katie could tell; the fact that the weather had cleared up; that wasn’t it amazing so many people had come so far, blah blah.

Katie was sure her heart was pounding so loudly he would be able to see it through her chest. For some reason she felt her eyes constantly returning to his hands. He was wearing cuff links on his shirt, and she could see how strong his forearms looked underneath it. He had such big hands, more suited to working on the land than sitting in an office, she thought. She wondered what it would be like to feel them on her.

“Oh God,” said Harry finally.

Katie’s heart leaped. What was he going to say? Was he going to make a declaration? Bring it up? Oh God, what was she going to say? How could she respond?

“I hate speeches,” said Harry.

Katie thought maybe she’d misheard. “Pardon?” she said, her throat dry.

“Speeches. I hate giving speeches.” He drew a small pile of index cards out of his pocket.

“You’re giving a speech?” said Katie stupidly.

“Well, yes . . . got to thank everyone for coming and stuff, remind them why they’re here and all that. Then I think Ewan McGregor’s going to say a few words, and I think Shirley Manson’s going to sing a song later.”

“Oh,” said Katie, mildly wondering why nobody had asked her to say anything. “Great.”

“We would have got you to do it, but somebody said you might encourage inappropriate arse-showing.”

Katie nodded. “I don’t mean to.”

Harry smiled wryly. “You never do.”

Harry rapped his fingers on the table as the puddings came around. “I guess I’d better do it after pudding. Or maybe when they get coffee Or maybe just now.”

In fact, they did have to wait for coffee, by which time Harry looked so uncomfortable Katie wanted to ask him if he needed to be taken to the toilet. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure it will be great.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” said Harry ominously, fingering his index cards.

Derek came bounding up, wearing a dinner jacket that made him look like a waiter. “I’ve got the PA fixed up!” he whispered, indicating a large amplifier with a mike behind them.

“Great,” said Harry, looking like a condemned man. Over the clatter of coffee cups, he stood up with the mike, which brushed his jacket and gave an instant wail of feedback.

“Ah,” he said. “Good start.”

The room gradually quietened down and he stepped to the side. Once he started to speak, thought Katie, he didn’t sound nervous at all.

“Hello everyone,” he said. “I’m Harry Barr, and I’m the person who runs the forest you’re all helping by coming here tonight, so I’d just like to thank you.”

There was a little cheer, and a round of applause went around the room. Harry grinned and went pink.

“Every year, we lose twenty million acres of forest in the UK. Organised lines of replantings can’t even begin to replicate the complexity of original woodlands that have developed over centuries; the different species interdependent on one another the way they were always meant to be.

“Golf courses are the opposite of the wild woods. They’re manicured and organised. They are an attempt to impose order on the world, to bend it to man’s will. To smooth its rough surfaces and expose its secrets.

“I’m glad you’re all here tonight, because I’m glad to be part of a group of people which doesn’t want all the mystery and adventure gone from their lives. Which believes that our great forests deserve to flourish in peace, which believes that a little bit of Scotland can always remain wild, just as a little bit of our hearts can never be tamed.”

There was a huge nationalistic roar at this, and much thumping of feet on floors, and glasses on tables. Katie couldn’t understand why Harry had been so bothered about giving a speech; he wasn’t bad at it at all.

“Anyway, we’re about to commence the slave auction . . .”

There was massed girly screeching.

“So, I would ask everyone to give generously, as we all make massive tits of ourselves, just like Mother Nature intended.” Harry squinted at the index card he was holding, as if he didn’t want to read out the next bit. “Very quickly, there’s a few people I have to thank for putting tonight together. Kelpie MacGuire, who has run the kitchen like . . . well, like one of Stalin’s gulags, I think, but I’m sure you’ll agree, she’s done a fine job . . .”