Where Have All the Boys Gone?

by Jenny Colgan

  Katie was almost lost for words. ‘Don’t you listen to village gossip?’ she managed, weakly.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Harry. ‘I absolutely do not.’

  And he turned and walked smartly out of the bar.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Louise was staying in bed the next day. Katie moved the television into her room with strict exhortations not to miss the show. Katie’s good intentions to have an early night had been somewhat thwarted by her lying awake half the night worrying about everything. What on earth did she think she was up to, messing about with her boss? She couldn’t even believe that was what she was up to, particularly considering how annoying she found him. Meanwhile, she’d checked her mobile a million times – now it had a signal again, she found she’d forgotten how agonising it was. Nada. Nothing from Iain, nothing at all. She was the only girl in the world who could fail to pull in an all-boys’ town. It was Louise’s fault, really. That outburst about feeling left behind had given her a panic attack, and she’d gone temporarily nuts.

  Well, she was just going to have to put a brave face on it and pretend last night had never happened. Ah, the humiliation, though, when Harry found out that although she was sleeping with Iain, he’d never called her. She hated how cheap that made her feel in his eyes. Mind you, it was none of his bollocking business who she slept with, after all, and it wasn’t as if she was swapping enemy information. So, they had had a boyhood spat – that wasn’t her fault either, for Christ’s sake. Why couldn’t they all behave like grown-ups about this?

  Three strong cups of fantastic coffee later and Katie was in more of a fighting mood by the time the car came to pick her up to take her to the television studios. She certainly didn’t fancy stupid Harry Barr, she fancied Iain and she would call him as soon as the programme was over and tell him to stop being such a bloody idiot, then she’d go back to Fairlish and have the kind of historic sex that she’d been thinking about for, well, quite some time.

  Delighted to be let loose on her wardrobe again without having to bolster it up with thermal underwear, shapeless sweaters and wellingtons, she went for her absolute favourite wraparound red dress – which was a bit much for five o’clock in the afternoon, but would certainly make her stand out – and a vertiginous pair of heels. London woman indeed. Well, Harry was going to see London woman, and he was going to respect her. Grrr.

  Arriving at the studios, she insisted on heading straight for hair and make-up. They plastered it on, of course, so it would look better under the lights, and she felt she could do with a bit of that right about now. The lady also teased her hair into a large sticky-up section at the back, which Katie thought might be a bit eighties’ Mrs Thatcher, but the hairdresser assured her was very ‘now’. And it certainly added to the height of the shoes. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was practically unrecognisable, and certainly not a Katie Watson who enjoyed herself at county shows, which was precisely the desired effect.

  Harry was sitting in the green room. He looked up when she entered and his face momentarily registered shock at her appearance, which annoyed her all over again.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, cordially.

  ‘You look like a tart’s breakfast,’ observed Harry, looking up from where he was pretending to be engrossed reading a copy of The Field. ‘That should please Iain.’

  ‘Ah, sexual harassment,’ said Katie. ‘Good, I’ll be sure to contact my big scary London lawyers.’

  Harry went back to ignoring her, but Katie herself felt angry and shaky inside. How dare this pompous git think he had some moral high ground, just because she’d felt sorry for him for one tiny moment in a cocktail bar? It wasn’t the law that everyone had to avoid sex was it? Or had she missed a memo? She shot Harry a dirty look, which he pretended not to notice.

  Hortense entered, projecting an air of supreme busyness, wearing a headset and carrying an impressive clipboard. A small gaggle of people walked in behind her.

  ‘OK, chums. How’re you doing?’

  Both of them grunted at her. This discomfited Hortense, who was used to people being delighted to be on television.

  ‘I said – HOW’RE YOU DOING!?’ she repeated.

  ‘We’re great,’ said Harry.

  ‘Great! Fantastic! We’re going to have a fantastic show then! Great! Now, let me introduce you –’

  She stared at her clipboard, until there could be absolutely no doubt that she had no idea who she was introducing to whom. She indicated an elegantly dressed, very slender woman with an anxious expression and a large mane of put-up hair.

  Harry leaped to his feet.

  ‘…this is Fennellopy Crystal. She’s just written a book on crosstraining dogs and men.’

  Harry stared at her. ‘You’re crossbreeding dogs and men?’ he asked, in incredulous tones. ‘How does that work?’

  ‘Crosstraining,’ she said in an annoyingly patient voice, as if she’d been asked this question a lot before.

  Katie snorted.

  ‘You just have to teach them all the same. Talk to men sternly and reward them with praise.’

  ‘To get them to do what? Eat your post?’

  The woman laughed an annoying tinkly laugh. ‘It’s the latest way to get a man, you know.’

  ‘By whistling at them in a very high pitch?’

  ‘It’s sold four hundred thousand in paperback.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hortense, nervously. ‘And this is Star Mackintosh.’

  Star Mackintosh looked about twenty years old and was wearing odd ankle boots that zipped up the middle, pink fishnets, a pale pink leather bomber jacket tightly fitted over enormous boobs, and a tiny fringed denim skirt that only just covered her arse. There didn’t seem to be anything underneath the bomber jacket.

  ‘Hello!’ she said in broad Mancunian tones. ‘I’m the new girl in Coronation Street. I always just say what I do, otherwise it’s embarrassing for people to come up to me.’

  Katie nodded. She’d stood up too, as standing around seemed to be what they were doing at the moment.

  ‘That’s why I changed my name to Star. From Tina. It saves time with people having to ask me what I do, ha ha ha!’

  ‘That’s great, well done,’ said Katie.

  Star leaned over conspiratorially. ‘You know, I’ve got nothing on under this bomber jacket.’

  Katie nodded.

  Star checked out Hortense, who was busy shouting into a walkie-talkie.

  ‘So, I was thinking, the show’s live, innit?’

  Katie was there ahead of her. ‘You’re going to get your norks out?’

  Star smiled. ‘Well, it’ll get me the coverage, innit? And Judy’s like, already famous for it. I can’t believe nobody’s done it before.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Katie. ‘Considering it goes out at teatime in a family slot.’

  Star shrugged. ‘I’ve tipped off the tabs, and they’re going to try and get one of the cameramen to do a close-up of Richard’s face.’

  ‘That’s not very sporting.’

  Star smiled again. ‘Gets me in the papers, dunnit!’

  ‘You should do that too,’ said Harry to Katie. ‘In case there’s anyone out there who hasn’t seen them.’

  Katie glared at him. ‘Jealous?’

  Harry sneered. ‘God no.’

  ‘You can’t do the tit thing,’ said Star, sounding agitated. ‘It was my agent’s…I mean, it was my idea first, but I’m the biggest star, so I’m on last. So you can’t do it first.’ She took out her mobile and started texting furiously on it.

  ‘Don’t worry Star,’ said Katie, putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder, ‘I won’t. I’m afraid we’ve just ended up on a show with a horrible sexist pig.’

  ‘I thought Richard was meant to be really nice!’ said Star, as Katie wandered off to the catering table by herself, to get away from Harry and try to eat a sandwich without getting it covered in lipgloss.

  ‘OK everyone,’ said Hortense. ‘Richard and Judy will try
and pop in to say “hello”.’

  ‘Ooh,’ said Star.

  ‘Now just remember, be yourselves and have fun – we want to see your natural personalities come through. Although I trust you’ll remember this is a teatime show, it’s not Frank Skinner.’

  Star let out a tiny giggle.

  Katie sighed. If Harry could stop being a prick for five tiny seconds, she could concentrate on this – their biggest break so far – being a success, get the job done, get the attention levels up, scare the developers off, job done, go home and forget the whole bloody thing. Plus, this was her first time on telly – her mum would be watching and everything. She didn’t want to mess it up. She wondered if Iain would be watching. Well, of course he would – the entire town would be out in force. She smiled ruefully. Well, at least her make-up was nice.

  The studio was much smaller than Katie had imagined, although she’d been to these things before, on the sidelines, and she always thought that. It was hot, and there were cables everywhere – she heard Harry curse as he hit his foot as they were led along the dark passageways behind the cameramen.

  In front of them now, Fennellopy Crystal was talking to Richard in her slow, modulated, somewhat infuriating voice.

  ‘So, if you kept on doing it, I’d simply change the position of the sofa, until you’d learned.’

  Richard looked suspicious. ‘So, your book is basically just telling women to tell men off until they do what they’re told?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t,’ said Judy.

  ‘See, you’re doing it now.’

  Fennellopy was wearing a very tight smile on her very tight face. ‘It’s about rewarding positive behaviour in a positive way.’

  ‘I’m not a dog,’ said Richard crossly. ‘I’m a tiger.’

  ‘It’s not about calling men dogs,’ said Fennellopy. ‘It’s about finding stability in your life.’

  ‘By buying a dog,’ said Richard helpfully.

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a lovely book,’ said Judy, patting Fennellopy’s knee. Fennellopy flinched like a nervous Pomeranian. ‘And thank you so much for coming on and telling us all about it.’

  She turned towards one of the cameras. ‘Now, from one extreme to another – whilst Fennellopy’s talking about how to keep your man in London, at the other end of the country they’ve got the opposite problem. Yes, in the town of Fairlish, in Sutherland, there are fifteen men to every woman!’

  As Judy was talking, Fennellopy was briskly whisked away without ceremony, and with much shushing, Katie and Harry were led onto the famous sofa.

  ‘What time does the next bus leave, I hear you ask. Well, here to tell us what it’s like, and why they don’t want a new golf course built, which will mean even more men, here’s Katie Watson and Harry Barr.’

  Tinkly music played, and Katie and Harry tried to arrange their faces into natural-looking rictus grins. Up behind them on screens came large superimposed shots of Fairlish, looking rather lovely.

  Judy turned towards them in a smiling fashion as they murmured hellos.

  ‘So, you’re Harry, that’s right?’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘And you live in Fairlish, where there are, how many…?’

  ‘Five hundred and seventy-five men and sixty-six women,’ said Richard helpfully.

  Harry smiled.

  Judy clutched his arm in a motherly fashion. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’

  ‘It’s not so bad,’ said Harry. ‘You know, it’s an outside kind of life out there…you’re living close to nature, there’s always lots of work to do, seasons changing.’

  ‘But you don’t have a girlfriend,’ said Richard. ‘Tricky.’

  ‘Well, we’re quite a quiet community,’ said Harry. ‘Most of us.’

  Katie chose to ignore this.

  ‘Well, you’re not quite the quiet community any more, are you, uhn, Katie?’ said Judy, reading her notes.

  ‘No,’ said Katie. ‘Pluto Enterprises want to knock down our local forest and replace it with a golf course, and we’re saying “NO”.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Judy. ‘So, you’re actually from London, aren’t you?’

  ‘She certainly is,’ said Harry.

  Katie nodded.

  ‘So, did you find yourself suddenly terribly popular when you arrived there?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said Katie.

  Harry snorted. She shot him a look.

  ‘I mean, compared to London, how did you find it for men?’

  ‘Well, there’s a lot of them about,’ said Katie. ‘But mostly they’re really insecure with women and tend to get really jealous.’

  ‘No they don’t,’ said Harry. ‘But the local men tend to like to stick to the more traditional type of girl. We’re not really into the racy city-girl type. Most of us are actually quite old-fashioned in our ways. I don’t know how many girls want that kind of thing any more.’

  ‘Well, quite a few, judging by our switchboard!’ said Judy, sounding calm, although there was clearly somebody shouting in her earpiece.

  ‘So, I mean, Harry, how do you cope, with the whole, lack of girls thing?’ said Richard. He sounded as if he wanted Harry to reply with an intimate rundown of his masturbation timetable.

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Harry. ‘I walk my dog a lot, you know.’

  ‘Ooh, you’ve got a dog, how lovely,’ said Judy.

  Katie rolled her eyes.

  ‘And you must be having the time of your life!’ said Richard to Katie.

  ‘You’d think,’ said Katie. Richard and Judy weren’t quite sure how to take this rudeness and Katie felt a pang of embarrassment.

  ‘So, would you recommend any lady viewers watching right now who might be feeling a little bit lonely to get themselves up there right now?’

  ‘If they want to save a forest, then, yes, we could do with them!’ said Katie, trying to redeem things with a cheesy grin.

  ‘Or if they’re quite loose and just desperate to cop off,’ said Harry. ‘That seems to work quite well too.’

  There was a sudden silence in the studio.

  ‘OK,’ said Judy, still in a smiley way, but with a desperate edge to her voice. ‘Lovely! Thanks! So nice of you to come in! So that’s the town with too many men there…and, coming up, just after the break, You Say We Pay and we’ll be greeting Star Mackintosh, the youngest hot new star on the block…’

  They were ushered off the sofa quickly, without time to say goodbye to their hosts.

  Hortense was waiting for them outside. ‘That was great, guys, thank you so much for coming.’

  ‘Great? Did you actually see it?’ said Katie. She was shocked and mortified beyond belief at what Harry had just said. I mean, there was banter and then there was…well, he’d just called her a slut in front of ten million people.

  ‘No, no, far too busy, but I’m sure you were great.’

  There was a car waiting outside to take them back to the airport. Katie slammed her way into the front seat before it slowly drew out into the heavy London traffic. It was a gorgeous, heavy hot day, and the air looked golden and thick as they pulled out alongside the Thames.

  Harry could have kicked himself. He was…he had to admit it to himself…he was jealous. He hadn’t thought that this would happen; hadn’t recalled that Iain always had to have things absolutely his own way. But it wasn’t just that. He definitely…the thought was so alien to him…it had been such a long time since he’d felt this way…that he’d completely overreacted. But the fact was, he thought he liked her. No, he definitely did. She was sparky, and he liked that. Needed it. Harry was conscious, for the first time, of how…how steady his life had been. For such a long time. Nothing changed, particularly. And he’d thought he liked it that way. But he didn’t. He wasn’t happy, not at all, really. Otherwise, why would he be getting himself so worked up by something this stupid? And then blowing it all…on television! He should never even have been on television in the first place. What was he th
inking? Really, he was only trying to please her. That had been it all along. Christ, he was an idiot.

  ‘Look,’ said Harry, who was looking uncomfortably red. How could he have said that? What kind of a man was he? His face went even redder. ‘I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  ‘You were thinking “I’m a really horrible prick and I’m going to say something really disgusting live on television”,’ said Katie. ‘Now, don’t talk to me.’

  She stared out of the window. There were hordes of people on the South Bank promenade, sitting on benches or wandering around, looking at the second-hand bookstalls or just staring out at the river. Couples walked along hand in hand; gaggles of office girls on their way to the pub; families of all colours with little children running about enjoying the sun and the space.

  Harry stared too at the passing cityscape, not really seeing it. Towns weren’t really his thing, never had been. It was completely beyond him why people would choose to live crammed one on top of the other and, worse, pay exorbitantly for the privilege. But one thing was clear to him now. He wanted…he wanted Katie. He actually did, and he cursed himself for not realising this fact earlier.

  ‘Katie,’ he said, leaning forward, softening his voice. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain, and he didn’t even know if he could explain it or even if she was going to be interested now – maybe her and Iain were loved up, anyway. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he’d just been too wrapped up in himself all along. Bugger bugger bugger.

  ‘Katie,’ he said again. She was talking, though, and he couldn’t quite hear what she was saying.

  ‘Stop the car,’ she was saying to the driver.

  She turned to Harry, her hands visibly shaking. ‘I think my job’s done, don’t you? I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to the airport any more. I’m going home.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Late spring, and the weather was scorching already. London automatically becomes nicer in the sunshine; people almost smile, and eat their lunch outside, or even sit at pavement cafés wearing sunglasses and drinking lattes (cuntinentals, Louise called them, but Katie liked it). This was great, Katie had decided. It was fantastic and wonderful and she wasn’t even going to moon for a second about green fields and falling-down houses and mince and tatties and friendly dogs and the way the fresh air smelled of heather, bright and pure and sweet, as the wind swept down the mountains first thing in the morning. She wasn’t thinking about that, and horrible men and stupid cobbles.