Where Have All the Boys Gone?(95)

This was the point at which Katie was supposed to head away and clap at the wall. But somehow she stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

“Please,” he said.

He looked so handsome, and so sad, it was all Katie could do not to fall into his arms there and then.

Suddenly she found herself the eye in the storm, standing completely still, as the first of the women behind her in the circle came cascading into her.

“What the hell!” shouted the woman, an abnormally tall, brassy blonde, tripping over her. “He’s mine next.” She pointed at Iain.

“Yeah, bloody move around,” said the man next in line for Katie, whom she’d never seen before. He had a scaly beard and glasses, like the dad in The Modern Parents.

Iain wasn’t moving either, just staring at her.

“HEY!” came another voice down the line, as they found the dance coming to an abrupt halt, spiked heels bumping painfully into ankles all the way down the tent.

“Yeah, wot the fuck,” came a London squeal. There were several tuts and grumbles in the air as couples collided and came to a pushing, shoving halt down the room.

“Excuse me!” said the blonde rudely, trying to push Katie out of the way. Katie still didn’t—couldn’t—move, and the blonde fell over, exposing the fact that it wasn’t only the men in kilts who were going without underwear that evening. She screamed and grabbed hold of the nearest man—the one with the beard—who promptly tripped over her ankle and pitched headfirst into the crowd.

There was mass screeching, then, as yards of expensive tulle and satin collapsed like a row of dominoes, the band stopped playing and it became apparent that two of the women on the floor had started slapping each other.

“Is that your woman fighting?” demanded one of the men of another. “I’m meant to be dancing with her and she’s fighting?”

“Whit?” said the first man. Then he launched a punch.

Within seconds the whole place was in tumult. Too much free drink and hormones in the air had revved everyone up to a dangerously high pitch. The sound of dresses being ripped and glasses being broken resounded through the tent. Mrs. McClockerty was being spared her cake-related punishment, as pieces of it were flying willy-nilly all over the place. A line of techies decided this was the great time to unleash their super surprise, as they all bent over and stuck their specially painted blue arses in the air, wiggling them as the paparazzi went crazy.

Still, Katie was staring at Iain, as, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a figure struggling to get through the crowds to see what was causing the ruckus. It was Harry. As soon as he saw the two of them, standing quietly on the edge of absolute chaos, seemingly completely unaware, he drew up short in front of them.

“Katie,” he said hoarsely. “Iain.”

He knew it would end like this, he supposed. Iain was going to get her. Maybe not for very long, but this time was probably different. Certainly looked that way from where he was standing.

“Harry,” said Katie. Her face was impossible to read. The three of them stood, motionless, as pandemonium reigned behind them.

“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS ALL THIS!!!???”

Amazingly, a super-deep, almost unbelievably loud voice suddenly cut across the dance floor and right through the tent. And, even more startlingly, people shut up and turned to see who was shouting.

A tall, powerfully-built man, in a very expensive-looking suit, was standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking absolutely furious. He had heavy brows that were pulled down over his eyes—very green eyes, Katie noticed. Behind him was a cluster of men, similarly dressed. The room was silent.

“Dad,” said Iain, finally.

All eyes focused on the two men. The family resemblance was very noticeable thought Katie, as he drew closer. Same height, same brown hair (although Iain’s father’s was fiercely combed back and cut very short), and definitely the same eyes. She found herself thinking of what Iain would look like when he got older, then shook her head to clear the image.

She looked at Harry. He was staring at Iain’s dad with an expression she’d never seen on him before; he looked furious, but at the same time, lost and a little vulnerable. She wondered if Iain’s dad had been something of a formidable presence when they were younger.

Iain’s dad let off a stream of Gaelic suddenly at Iain, who looked sullen and stared at the floor. Then he turned around to face the room.

“I came here,” he shouted, “to see if I could talk to you people. Explain how a golf course could only benefit this bloody place.”

There were instantly boos at this around the hall.

“OH, BE QUIET,” he boomed. “How many of you lot have come up from Glasgow or Edinburgh? Or London? You all say you love the Highlands, but not enough to move up here and build communities and raise your damn families here.”

His voice dropped as he realised people were listening to him. “The population’s dropping year on year. Look at you, advertising for women on the television. It’s a disgrace.”

There was a general muttering at this.

“I’m just trying to put something back into the community, sheesh, ensure it stays a community. I’m just trying to stop you being outnumbered by the bloody sheep, for God’s sake.”

Katie watched him. He seemed genuinely to believe what he was saying. And he seemed to have a point. She looked around the room. People were letting him have his say. Some were even nodding sympathetically.