Where Have All the Boys Gone?

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘I should hope not. You’re abominations.’

  ‘We’re abomiwhats?’ said Louise, who suddenly looked as if she was squaring up for a fight.

  ‘Nothing. Nobody,’ said Katie. ‘You’re asleep and having a dream. I’m sorry. This won’t happen again.’

  Mrs McClockerty sniffed loudly. ‘I’m docking one of your breakfast pieces. EACH,’ she said, then stormed back indoors, slamming the door behind her. Half dragging Louise, Katie made her way around to the servants’ entrance at the side, thinking of a few alternative uses for the now denied breakfast pieces on Mrs McClockerty, all of which would require the immediate application of a team of highly-trained surgeons.

  ‘And there isn’t one of those for hundreds of miles,’ she thought viciously to herself. ‘You’d have to make do with Craig the vet.’

  It was with a heavy hangover and a rumbling stomach that Katie turned up to work the following morning, feeling slightly bad. She hadn’t agreed to be a spy, but on the other hand, she’d always prided herself on being a professional, and dallying with the enemy, and his gorgeous green eyes, wasn’t exactly professional. She meditated on this whilst trying to get to grips with the antediluvian computer which was so slow she was wondering if she’d missed the handle you had to turn on the back.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ asked Harry, who had an office of his own, but seemed to spend most of his time in the open-plan section, discussing things with Derek, or out somewhere. ‘You’re looking at my sandwich like Francis does.’

  ‘I am not,’ said Katie, turning her glance to the screen.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘I’m a girl. We don’t get hungry.’

  ‘Is Auntie S not feeding you?’

  ‘Auntie who?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs McClockerty to you. Senga. S.’

  ‘Actually, no, she isn’t. We were only allowed one “piece” at breakfast this morning. Which means one slice of bread. I hope you’re not paying too much to keep us in all this luxury.’

  Harry laughed out loud. Katie suddenly saw that he had a lovely broad smile, with healthy-looking white teeth. It totally transformed his face when he laughed. It was something he didn’t do much of.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What do you mean, what did we do? Nothing. She’s starving us.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but Auntie S’s One Piece Rule is extremely serious. She’s harsh but fair.’

  ‘Exactly the qualities one looks for in the hospitality industry,’ said Katie. ‘Anyway, it’s not fair.’

  ‘What did you do?’ He was grinning now.

  ‘Nothing. If you aren’t allowed to go out and explore your local surroundings in a new environment…’

  ‘Ahh,’ said Harry annoyingly.

  ‘What? “Ahh” what?’

  ‘Scooshed?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were youse scooshed?’

  ‘Do you mean inebriated?’

  ‘I thought so. Don’t go home scooshed, she hates it. Thinks the demon drink is the ruination of young ladies.’

  ‘We know it is. That’s the point.’

  ‘Well then, you’ll have to get used to only getting one piece.’

  ‘Give me a sandwich.’

  ‘And risk Auntie S’s wrath? You must be joking. Come on, I’d better show you around.’

  ‘Show me around where? I’ve seen the Woolworths.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘How many times did I promise myself I wasn’t going to take on any daft city lassies…’

  It quickly became evident that Francis usually sat up front in the Land-Rover and wasn’t delighted at being usurped, so there was an unseemly tussle of Harry and a flurry of muddy paws before Francis dejectedly slunk into the back. The storms of the night before had abated, and although the breeze was still biting, the world looked washed clean and harshly fresh.

  Instead of taking the bumpy cobbled road into town, the Land-Rover bumped around the back of the office and took off down a muddy track, straight into the heart of the forest. The trees closed off much of the morning light far quicker than Katie had expected.

  ‘This is coille mhòr, the forest,’ said Harry. ‘Mostly coniferous trees, planted by us – that’s why they’re in such straight rows. They do a lot for the soil, and they’re useful for lots of timber applications.’

  ‘Christmas,’ nodded Katie knowledgeably.

  Harry looked at her. ‘…including the highly competitive forty-foot Christmas tree market.’

  Katie squirmed. So, she hadn’t quite got the sense of scale right.

  ‘…they also provide a habitat for over two hundred species, including one of the last major outposts of red squirrels in the UK, plenty of deer – actually too many deer. There’s always been deer in Scotland, but we kind of overdid the restocking.’

  ‘Deer are lovely,’ said Katie, peering to see if she could spot a fawn between the trees and thinking of Bambi. ‘I’m glad there’s lots of them.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Harry. ‘Pretty animals are always the best. Actually, they’re a pest. They clear miles of vegetation and make it difficult for the other animals to survive. Even other pretty ones, like rabbits. Oh no, Katie, how would you decide between them?’

  ‘Deer,’ said Katie decisively. ‘Definitely. Unless there were otters involved.’

  Harry closed his eyes in exasperation. ‘You were really and truly the best your office could come up with to come and work here? Seriously, you’re the cream?’

  ‘I was joking,’ said Katie defensively.

  ‘Well, there’s joking and there’s ignorance.’

  ‘I’m trying my best,’ said Katie sulkily. ‘I didn’t ask for this job, OK?’

  He turned on her suddenly. ‘What on earth do you mean by that? You came up here for the interview. Then you came back. Why are you doing us all such a massive favour?’

  ‘I did come up here, but then I met you and decided I didn’t want the job! Then they sent me anyway! But if you want me to do anything for you, you’ve got to explain things to me and not give me evils all the time. I can write, I can place things, I can spin things and I can do my best to influence people to look on the best side of everything you do. If that offends your delicate country sensibilities, then tough. Don’t hire a PR firm then, because that’s what we do. And it’s not my effing fault that we don’t have a branch in Fairlish where we all study five years of pine tree bloody science! You’re the one spending taxpayer’s money, take some responsibility!’

  Harry drove on in silence. Katie bit her lip. Bloody hell. Where had that come from? Oh God, what if he sent her home? Olivia would be fuming and actually she had quite started to enjoy herself. There was a reason why she didn’t get the big jobs at the agencies and she knew it was her inability to keep her big mouth shut and let the client always be right. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

  She reached a hand back in the Land-Rover and Francis licked it. Oh well. She scratched the fur under his chin and he rubbed his head on her wrist, making pleased noises.

  Eventually, Harry sighed. ‘My dog seems to like you,’ he said. ‘I don’t, but he does.’

  ‘Maybe you should put your dog in charge.’

  ‘He hates responsibility.’

  Katie took a deep breath. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. Her least favourite words in the world. ‘If you want to let me go, I understand.’

  Harry rubbed the back of his head and laughed. ‘I think that’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you? Plus, on that evidence, I think it might be a better punishment to keep you.’

  Katie harrumphed.

  ‘Do you think you could at least pretend to listen when I’m talking to you and try to keep down the sarcastic remarks?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Katie, biting her tongue.

  They spent the rest of the day touring the forest in relative calm. Harry described the flora and fauna of each area, how they were important, how they undertook the husbandry and what the gamekeepers a
nd tree surgeons did. Katie was amazed to find it was actually incredibly interesting, and also astonished by how many people Harry’s office employed. She even managed to keep remarks about how much her mother wanted her to marry a doctor to herself.

  ‘You never see any of the surgeons,’ said Harry. ‘They don’t like being indoors. They start pacing, like panthers. Willie Mac spends more time sleeping in his bothy than he does in his house.’

  ‘What’s a bothy?’

  ‘It’s like a little hut in the woods. Not exactly five star, but it suits some. It’s quiet.’

  ‘The woods aren’t quiet,’ said Katie. ‘Full of creaking noises and scary rustlings. I mean, well, just general nature taking its course kind of stuff, of course,’ she added, aware she was going to have to toughen up and get used to country ways quickly. ‘Not scary at all.’

  ‘Don’t know about that,’ said Harry. ‘There used to be lots of boar here, and we’re thinking of bringing them back. Wolves too. And adders.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll just stay in the car,’ she answered, all resolve instantly evaporating.

  Finally, when they were miles away from town and, it felt, any other living human being, Harry forded a stream in the Land-Rover, and brought them to a halt.

  ‘Here,’ he said.

  The afternoon light was settling on the tops of the trees, which were just, here and there, beginning to show signs of green, distant promises of a spring still not quite making its presence felt. This wasn’t a carefully managed forest, like the endless acres they had just driven through; it was natural and running wild. Roots snaked around each other, and the vegetation lay thickly rotting on the ground. Everywhere there were signs of life just flashing by out of reach; a quick streak of silver in the stream, a rustle in the undergrowth; a vanishing pair of sharp yellow eyes.

  ‘Wow,’ said Katie, stepping out. ‘Where’s the gingerbread house?’

  She was glad she’d bought those stout boots at the outdoor shop in Soho (or the ‘Big Outdoor Nerd’s Shop’ as she had called it until that first visit) before they left.

  As she stepped forward, the dead leaves crunched underfoot.

  ‘Shh shh!’ said Harry, grabbing her arm and pointing. Rising out of the woods, outlined by the fading sun was a huge golden kestrel, rearing backwards. As if having seen them and found them wanting, it immediately twirled away and soared upwards towards the sun, lazily batted its giant wings twice, then disappeared into the far yonder. It was one of the most beautiful things Katie had ever seen.

  ‘My goodness,’ she said. In that way you do when something unexpected happens and you’ve had a really mad few days and are feeling a bit homesick and unfamiliar, she suddenly felt like crying. She choked it down hard. Fortunately, Harry hadn’t noticed; he was striding forwards into the forest.

  ‘I love it here,’ he said. ‘It’s my favourite place in the whole…well, the whole world probably.’ He smiled apologetically for his unaccustomed hyperbole.

  ‘Hmm?’ responded Katie, still not quite trusting herself to speak.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Harry, pointing out a thick tree stump, covered in vines, that was exactly the right height for a stool.

  He put his fingers on the rings. ‘See this ring here?’

  Katie nodded.

  ‘When Queen Victoria was alive, she used to come riding here. And this ring was made when Bonnie Prince Charlie was leading an army to London. Here, further in, Mary Queen of Scots was in Holyrood when this was still a sapling.’

  Katie traced the lines with her fingers.

  ‘This tree was over four hundred years old when she fell,’ mused Harry. ‘Sometimes I think they have more claim to the earth than we do.’

  His face looked distant and brooding. Katie found it hard to stop staring at him, and felt the need to break the mood.

  ‘Ah, but can they make pancakes?’ she said suddenly.

  He smiled. ‘No. They can’t make pancakes. They can’t make wars either.’

  They walked on to a glade covered in toadstools. Although still chilly, the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees in slices.

  ‘My mother used to bring me here when I was small,’ said Harry suddenly. ‘I really did think fairies and elves lived here then. Sorry,’ he apologised embarrassedly. ‘That’s stupid.’

  ‘Of course it’s not stupid,’ said Katie. ‘I still kind of believe it now.’

  Harry gave a half-smile. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No, I actually mean it,’ protested Katie.

  ‘You act that daft, I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Don’t talk about the fairies like that – they’ll come and take your teeth.’

  He shook his head. ‘Anyway, this place is called Gealach Coille. It means, “Moon Forest” in Gaelic’

  ‘Oh!’ said Katie.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The language. I just realised what Louise was watching on BBC2.’

  ‘Well, I’m delighted for you. Anyway, this is one of our greatest concerns and, really, at the heart of why we’re recruiting PR now. To strengthen our armoury, if you like.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Katie, crossing her fingers. She’d learned her lesson about that one.

  ‘This cannot get out, do you understand? The only people that know are me and Derek.’

  Katie nodded solemnly.

  ‘This is your job, do you understand? You can be as annoying as you like, but this is the really important stuff.’

  ‘OK, OK.’

  ‘So if you want to go back to London, you have to say now. Once I tell you this, you’re committed to the end.’

  Katie looked around her. Motes from the leaves floated in the beams of sunlight. There was a gentle rustle of breeze through the trees. The peaty earth gave off a rich, dank odour underneath her feet. Without thinking, she leaned her hand out and felt the stump, the lichen damp and the wood flaky underneath her fingers. It felt effortlessly strong, one of the anchors of the world that stretched far beneath the earth. Harry watched her, quiet for once. She wasn’t always a stuck-up harridan, he supposed. When she kept her mouth shut for more than ten seconds, she was almost attractive.

  Katie looked up, and seemed surprised to see Harry staring at her. He dropped his gaze immediately.

  ‘Um, OK,’ said Katie, who had indeed been a little taken aback by the intensity of his slightly craggy stare. He still looked like a young Gordon Brown, but there was a weird bit of her wondering if that was really such a bad thing. It surprised her so much she wasn’t exactly expecting to say what she said next. ‘OK. Yes, I’m ready. I’m staying.’

  His face suddenly cracked into a grin that looked like the sun coming out.

  ‘What?’ said Katie crossly. ‘Stop looking at me like that. What, you think I won’t make it?’

  ‘No,’ said Harry, who was as flustered by his idiotic grin as she was. ‘Don’t know what I was thinking of.’

  ‘Good. So, what’s this big secret then?’

  Harry took a deep breath as his thoughts instantly returned to more serious matters. ‘Well, Gealach Coille isn’t protected.’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought all forests were protected?’

  ‘Well. We’re victims of our own success really. We’ve hit our quotas on replanting; on environmental impact, and, well, I already explained about the deer.’

  ‘They can’t pull this down!’ said Katie, outraged suddenly. ‘This has been here longer than anything, than any one of them!’

  ‘Yes,’ Harry agreed earnestly.

  ‘And there’s millions of animals living here.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the fairies would be furious.’

  ‘Let’s head back to the car,’ said Harry.

  ‘So what are they going to do with it?’

  ‘Well, they can’t knock it down completely – yet. But they can clear a great deal away and build…ahem,’ Harry cleared his throat as
if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Um, I believe they want to build a golf course of some kind.’

  ‘They just want to chop everything down right here – for a golf course?’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘But that’s just stupid. Plus, imagine, golfers everywhere. They’ll all wear yellow sweaters and toast the Queen.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Harry. ‘Although to be quite honest, I wouldn’t care if it was a convent for sick children. I really don’t want to lose this forest.’

  He fondled Francis’s ears, who had been too lazy to come for the walk and was firmly ensconced in the front seat, pretending to be asleep. Katie climbed around into the back without comment.

  ‘And once they’ve got planning for that, they get it for anything. Petrol stations, Holiday Inns, a stupid airport or something.’

  Katie sat in the back of the Land-Rover, looking out of the tarpaulin. Brilliant pink rays of sun were hitting the tops of the trees. They looked as though they were on fire.

  ‘Well – and don’t take this the wrong way, OK, I’m just playing devil’s advocate…’

  Harry’s grunt indicated that he rarely thought of her as anything but.

  ‘…but it’s progress, isn’t it? Isn’t it what people want? Won’t it bring a lot of money to the area? Isn’t it a good thing?’

  ‘Now that,’ said Harry, stabbing the steering wheel with his finger, ‘is exactly what I’d expect that prick from the newspaper to say.’

  ‘I’m just saying,’ said Katie.

  ‘Every single part of this country is “developed”,’ growled Harry. ‘They’ve concreted over all of the south, and now they’re after us. And they won’t be happy until they’ve squeezed every bit of profit out of the soil, and covered it all with golf courses and Starbucks and McDonalds. There’s nothing wrong with our area. Bring outside money in and the same thing happens as it does everywhere else: people can’t afford to buy houses in the towns they were born in and neighbour falls out with neighbour.’

  ‘You know, you talk like someone a lot older than you are,’ said Katie. ‘But I see your point.’