by Jenny Colgan
She felt herself drawn to the windows. Outside, the lawn was growing wild, although it looked like somebody was having a manful stab at it every now and then, with mixed results. Mist was curling in from the sea, entwining in the trees at the bottom of the garden. It was rather eerie. But hang on a minute, was that a croquet hoop?
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!’ she screamed.
‘What is it!’ Louise dropped her handbag and rushed over.
‘A face! A face at the window!’ yelped Katie, her heart thumping so hard it was difficult to catch her breath. Louise looked up. Through the filthy windows it was just possible to make out a very shocked-looking face.
‘LAIRD KENNEDY!’ squealed Louise, although he was already at the door.
‘What on earth was that noise?’ said the Laird. ‘I thought I had a pig in labour.’
Swallowing hard, Louise stepped towards the window, holding Katie’s hand. Katie was shaking violently – and the face had disappeared.
‘He’s gone!’ said Katie.
‘Well, that’s that settled then,’ said the Laird. ‘Tea? In the sitting room I think – it’s a bit draughty in here.’
‘But…there was a man…a man…’
‘Och, there’s people up around about all the time,’ said Kennedy. ‘They think the place is deserted. Can’t think why.’ He turned around.
Katie looked at Louise. Then they all heard a clattering at the back of the house.
‘It’s my mugger,’ said Katie. ‘He’s come up from London, not satisfied with frightening the crap out of me down there.’ She was scared out of her wits.
‘HELLO!’ shouted the Laird.
‘KENNEDY,’ a voice shouted back. ‘I just got the most bollocking fright!’
The girls turned around, as a very pale Iain lurched into the room.
‘Good God, you two,’ he gasped. Then he leaned on the doorframe and smiled weakly. ‘I’m an idiot.’
Katie’s heart nearly dribbled out of her feet with relief – and lust. ‘That was you,’ she said.
‘God, yeah,’ he said. ‘Jings. I was just coming up to have a word with Jock about trying to screw Har… never mind. And I thought I saw a woman kind of dancing about.’
‘I was not dancing about!’ said Katie. ‘Well, not consciously.’
‘And I thought, that can’t be right…no women around here, so I came for a look, and then a banshee kind of started screaming…’
‘Did you think we were ghosts?’ asked Louise, looking amused.
‘No,’ said Iain quickly.
‘Why are you so white in the face then?’
‘Well, look at Katie, she’s shaking.’
‘I’ll go get the tea,’ said Kennedy.
‘I’ll help,’ said Louise quickly.
Iain and Katie looked at each other when they were alone.
‘Sorry,’ said Katie. ‘I got…I got mugged in London. A while back. I scare easily.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Iain. ‘But I’m sorry to hear about that.’
‘Hey,’ said Katie. ‘He didn’t hurt me. Just made me susceptible to weirdo stalkers that creep up through the undergrowth.’
‘Oh yeah, I meant to mention. Most girls I date like to take out the restraining order pretty much straight away.’
Katie swallowed hard. So were they dating now? ‘What are you really doing here, anyway?’
‘Jock wants me to take some photographs. He’s thinking of advertising in a lonely hearts mag, and thinks photos of his house might go down better than him.’
‘He’s got a point,’ said Katie, as they made their way to the room next door, which was a smaller, but still gigantic, sitting room, and this time shabbily furnished. A fire was burning in the grate, and Louise was pouring out tea while sitting in a high-backed floral armchair.
‘You look quite the lady of the manor,’ said Katie, taking a place on a sofa that still had antimacassars.
Laird Kennedy’s ears pricked up. ‘Are you looking for a husband?’ he asked expectantly.
‘Quite the opposite,’ said Louise. ‘I’m just beginning to enjoy the young, free and single life. But I’m sure there are about a million gorgeous girls in London who would jump at the chance.’
Katie nodded enthusiastically.
‘They need to be rich though,’ said the Laird. ‘I need a bunch of money for this place.’
‘Oh well, I wouldn’t have been any help to you anyway,’ said Louise.
The Laird sighed.
‘I’m telling you,’ said Iain. ‘We’ll concentrate on the American divorcee market. It’s the one to go for.’
The Laird dunked a slightly musty-looking biscuit in his tea. ‘So, you’re the lassies working with Harry Barr?’ he said.
Iain sniffed disapprovingly.
‘Just me,’ said Katie. ‘He seems all right.’
‘Oh aye, he’s a nice lad,’ said the Laird, casting a sideways glance at Iain. ‘Lost his mother you know.’
‘I know,’ said Katie.
‘About twenty years ago,’ said Iain.
The Laird looked at him again. ‘What happened to that girlfriend he had? She was an absolute stoater.’
‘He had a girlfriend?’ said Louise, eagerly leaning forward. ‘What was she like?’
‘She was a right beauty,’ said the Laird. ‘Brought her back from Edinburgh. Gorgeous she was, wasn’t she?’ he said to Iain.
‘Yes,’ said Iain grudgingly.
‘So, what happened to her?’ asked Louise.
‘Och, she didnae like it up here, did she?’
Iain shook his head.
‘Not a lot for lassies to do.’ He eyed them both closely.
‘I don’t know,’ said Katie. ‘Sometimes it’s nice…’ she looked closely at Iain. ‘Sometimes, it’s just nice,’ she repeated, smiling at him.
Chapter Nine
‘Hello Olivia!’ Katie said bouncily, answering the office phone the next day to her boss/chum.
‘How goes it?’
Not the grey skies or the falling rain; not the meagre single slice of untoasted bread that appeared for breakfast under a bosom trembling with suppressed tellings off; not the forty-minute traffic jam (traffic jam!) she found was being caused by, of all things, a herd (herd? flock? school?) of Highland coos, funny little stumpy things that looked like dogs done up for fancy dress, could dampen Katie’s spirits that morning as she had turned the car up the track that led to the forest office.
The three of them had walked back into town, Iain’s fingers gradually entwining with hers, and at the entrance to Water Lane, Louise had gone on ahead and they’d stayed behind, snogging outside like teenagers. She was still walking on air.
‘What are you up to?’ Olivia asked, sounding suspicious. ‘Oww!’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, it’s not you, I’ve just got this new Thai masseuse who’s very thorough. That or I’ve been captured by the secret police. Anyway, what are you so cheerful about?’
‘Nothing. Uh, I just think it’s going really well up here.’
‘Really? How come?’
Katie explained Harry’s golf-course predicament to Olivia, who made various expostulations throughout, though whether in response to the proposed development or particularly intense kneading, it was difficult to say.
‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think you have a funny definition of “going really well”,’ said Olivia. ‘It sounds like you’re doing nothing at all.’
‘I mean about what we should be planning.’ Katie didn’t think telling her boss was breaking a confidence; she had to do it, surely.
‘Darling, of course you’re right – ack! I can sue you, you know. This Harry character doesn’t know what he’s talking about. What does he think will happen – big business goes away if you simply ignore it? That’s not very likely, is it?’
Katie admitted it wasn’t.
‘Of course not. So you have to get out there. You know
the drill; the more you annoy them, the quicker you’ll drive them out. What do you think for a USP for Fairlish? What’s its special charm?’
‘Well,’ Katie said hesitantly, ‘they’ve got the highest ratio of men to women in Britain.’
For once, Olivia was speechless.
‘You’re joking,’ she eventually spluttered.
‘Nope.’
‘So I’m here, getting put through torture so I can be nice and bendy for a man who I haven’t even met yet…’
‘And we could eat pies all day here and it wouldn’t matter!’ exclaimed Katie excitedly. ‘Louise has died and gone to heaven.’
‘Arse. But, still, this could be a killer focus, surely? Get all the women of Britain behind the forest, something like that? The Men Preservation Zone.’
‘Yes, possibly.’ Katie shuddered at what Olivia might come up with.
‘Fantastic! Well done darling – and STOP THAT! OK, on to other business. Have you checked your email?’
Katie looked guiltily at the antediluvian computer Derek had provided. It was covered in dust. ‘Um, not as such, no.’
‘What about your mobile?’
‘I can’t get a signal.’
For the second time in five minutes, Olivia went silent.
‘You’re without your mobile phone?’ she stuttered finally. ‘Darling. I would die…I would actually die.’
‘You wouldn’t actually die,’ said Katie. ‘And it’s quite nice when you get used to it. Peaceful.’
Olivia gave an audible shudder. ‘Barbarians,’ she said. ‘Anyway. Uh, check your email.’
Suddenly, the door of the office swung open and Harry barged in, also in an excellent mood by the looks of things.
‘Come on, we hae to go,’ he said, waving his hand in front of the phone for emphasis.
Katie nodded sharply at him.
‘Why?’ she said down the phone.
‘Can’t you just check it?’ said Olivia, sounding more unhappy.
‘I can just check it if you tell me why.’
‘We have to go NOW,’ said Harry. ‘That’s N-O-W – Now.’
Katie looked at him. How on earth did he ever get an utterly gorgeous girlfriend? Very mysterious.
‘Look, Katie, it’s not work stuff…I think your sister’s been trying to get in touch.’
‘Clara? What the hell does she want now?’
‘Please just check it,’ said Olivia. ‘I really have to go.’
‘We really have to go,’ said Harry, indicating he was going to hang up the phone for her if she wasn’t willing to do the job herself.
‘OK, OK!’ said Katie and banged down the receiver, then instantly felt guilty for doing just that. Clara was her sister after all.
‘Come on, come on,’ said Harry bossily, jumping up and grabbing her jacket.
‘Hang on,’ said Katie. ‘I have to check my email.’
Caught in mid stride, Harry looked at her as if she’d just spoken to him in Mandarin. ‘Your what?’
‘Email. You know, tap tap tap then you press send and your message gets rolled up small enough to be sent down a phone line to foreign countries and stuff.’
‘I know what it is. What do you have to do with it? You’ve got much more important things to do right this moment than gassing with your chums,’ he said, pointing at the phone.
‘For your information, that was my boss. And yours.’
‘Ehm, she’s not my boss.’
‘Oh no, neither she is. Well, mine then. Anyway, it was a business call. But this…this can’t wait.’
Katie looked at him imploringly. Harry sighed in a way that clearly meant ‘women’, and went to gossip with Derek.
It took a while to get the computer set up – time spent blowing off dust, mostly. Katie, used to broadband and ISDN, was shocked to find herself under the desk unplugging the phone and listening to the familiar beee…bdp bdp bdp prrrrr as the connection very slowly came to life. She signed into Hotmail thinking with a sigh that it had been four days since she’d checked her mail, so there was going to be a new world record number of people who wanted to sell her prescription drugs to excite her gigantically enlarged penis. But the mail she was actually looking for was about halfway down the page. In typical Clara style it was in bold and festooned with smiley faces and flags.
NOOOOZZZZ!! read the subject line.
Still chill out here in the cross your heart and hope to die, India’s fine and so am I state of Goa, an Mark-Clara hav a bit of fun to announce – yes, the stork will be flyin’ halfway around the world this year so better hope he’s got his Lonely Planet Guide!!!!!! A true gaia event, full of the joy and spirit of the forces of earth are joining these two people into one baby this year, so send your hope and love to the Mother Goddess for all of us!!! Still not sure if comin back, chums – may grant the elf a birth serene and free from western ‘medicalisation’, no what we mean?!
And that was it. There was no other message; nothing solely from Clara to her sister to explain exactly what the hell was going on, just a group email announcing the imminent arrival of an ‘elf’. Katie scanned the cc list automatically. Just as she’d have thought – Clara hadn’t even bothered to include their mum. It did, however, include Louise. The selfish witch. Clara assumed her doctrine of ‘peace and forgiveness’ meant she was free to behave however she liked, and if other people didn’t like, it was their problem.
Katie sat down heavily. Well, this really was going to set the cat amongst the pigeons. But they’d been together, what – six months? What on earth was she going to tell Louise? Louise, whose hopes had all been tied up in Max for years; who genuinely thought that when he had babies, they’d be hers?
She thought of her sister, out there where the air was heavy with dust and car fumes; spices and burning incense. How could she even confirm it for sure out there? She doubted it was that easy to find an over-the-counter pregnancy test there. She probably didn’t even know exactly how far gone she was. And how was she going to make sure she ate good food and drank safe water? And what about soft cheese and eggs and all those things you weren’t supposed to eat, and all those toxic emissions? Katie felt her heart speed up.
Still, she couldn’t deny how happy her sister sounded in the email. And then she thought, with sadness, about how happy Louise had seemed recently.
‘Don’t tell me. Jonny’s broken up with Janey and you just wouldn’t believe what Jemima said to Jessica?’
Katie eyed Harry. After he’d shown a more vulnerable side in the forest, she’d hoped for, maybe even counted on, a cessation of hostilities, but clearly this was not to be. Refusing to deign his stupid remark with a response, she got up and followed him to the door.
‘What’s the matter then?’ he asked, leading her out to the Land-Rover.
‘Nothing.’
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry, but I run a no-sulking office.’
‘I’m not sulking, OK? It’s personal.’
Just as she’d hoped, the very words ‘it’s personal’ worked on Harry like a charm. He shrank back from her as if she’d said ‘it’s leprosy’, and put the car in gear.
Ten minutes later and Harry’s constant sidelong glances were beginning to drive her crazy, as was his furrowed expression. The road was busy, full of cars all going in the same direction.
‘You know where you’re going then?’ said Harry eventually.
‘No I don’t,’ said Katie. ‘I’m toddling along fine in London – well, in post-feminist terms anyway,’ she added, almost to herself, ‘then my idiot sister runs off with my best friend’s man, then I suddenly find myself up here and now my sister is up the stick, and I have to tell my best friend.’
After a ghastly pause, she realised that Harry had been asking if she knew where they were going in the car.
‘Sorry,’ they both spat out at the same time.
‘No, it’s my fault,’ said Harry, quickly. ‘Didn’t grow up knowing lots of girls, you
know. Don’t really understand the rules. Sorry about what I said before too.’
‘Sorry, no, it’s me,’ said Katie, touched. ‘I just got a bit of a shock this morning, that’s all.’
‘From your sister?’
She nodded.
‘Is she…ahem, happy and everything?’
‘Seems to be,’ said Katie. ‘She’s in India. Finding herself. And someone else, as it turns out. She’s probably going to have the baby there.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ mused Harry. ‘Bit like the Jungle Book – the baby can be brought up by bears and things like that.’
Katie cut him a look.
Harry looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, I haven’t spent that much time around babies either. Or in India, really.’
Katie smiled for the first time that morning. ‘What have you done?’
‘I’ve done things,’ said Harry. ‘Once I nursed a sick badger back to health, even though you’re meant to turn them in.’
Katie nodded. ‘Anything else?’
Harry squinted. ‘Nope. That’s pretty much it.’
They were drawing near to a large field that was covered in tents and stands, with as many cars parked there as Katie had seen in the entire time she had been in Scotland.
As they parked in a muddy corner, Katie made her eighteenth mental note to get Olivia to send her up some of those new pretty wellies with the flowers on them; her boots were downright clumpy.
‘Where are we anyway?’ she asked, getting out of the car. ‘Literally.’
‘We’re at the county show of course,’ said Harry. ‘They’re about to start the judging. That’s why I needed you to hurry up.’
‘Why?’
‘Because everyone’s here. We need to speak to as many people as possible.’ He attempted to take on a wolfish expression, which failed him utterly. ‘Find out – subtly – if anyone’s been approached, you know, about selling off a bit of land for anything…’
‘Anything like a two-thousand-acre golf course, you mean?’
‘Subtlety, remember?’
‘Harry, are you absolutely sure you want to keep this a secret? After all, won’t you just start millions of rumours by asking shifty questions like this?’