Where Have All the Boys Gone?

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Well, this ball thing you thought of…we’re going ahead with it, but it’s getting a bit out of hand.’

  ‘Out of hand, how?’

  ‘Well, there seem to be a lot of people coming.’

  ‘How many?’

  Harry said something which sounded like it might have been ‘five hundred’ but couldn’t have been.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Five hundred.’

  ‘Five HUNDRED?’

  ‘It all went a bit nuts after the telly thing,’ Harry mumbled.

  ‘Looks like it! Who the hell is organising that?’

  ‘Well, me, obviously, and Aunt Senga’s taken over the catering…’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘Then it all started getting a bit crazy with all these women coming, so all the chaps in the Mermaid started adding things and now we’re doing, like, competitions, and slave auctions and things…’

  ‘Slave auctions and things…’ repeated Katie.

  ‘Huh, yes.’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ said Katie. ‘If I could get the time off, I’d almost want to come. I imagine that would be worth seeing.’

  Then she wondered how much Iain would make in a slave auction, and that made her sad and a little bit nostalgic, so she tried to think about something else.

  ‘Well, that’s why we need you to come.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t. You just want someone to put the blame on. Then you’ll probably contrive to call me a whore again and it will not end happily.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ protested Harry. ‘People are always asking after you. And there’s been some…ehm, some nice pieces in the paper.’

  Katie’s heart, despite herself, leaped a little. ‘Well, that’s…but no, definitely not. What else are you up to, anyway?’

  ‘I’m just about to walk Francis.’

  ‘What’s the weather like?’

  ‘Um, bit of a fresh wind blowing. Quite stiff. We’re going to head out for the cliffs, just as soon as I can wake him up.’

  Katie thought how nice it would be to feel a fresh wind blowing right at that moment. Even just standing up to answer the phone had made her sweat.

  ‘Well, good luck with it and let me know how it goes. You remember I told you about my sister?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, she’s going to have the baby a lot sooner than we thought. And she’s come back from India to have it. And she’s staying here. And, um, there’s no one to look after her but me.’ This came out in a bit of a rush.

  ‘What about your mum?’ asked Harry.

  ‘We don’t want to upset her,’ said Katie. ‘She’s…she’s a little nervous.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Harry. ‘That’s what mums are for. Honestly, you should really use her. Get her in to babysit and come and see us. Soon.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Katie. ‘But it’s not really practical. Nice to hear from you, though.’

  And she meant it. It felt like a little bit of fresh air in her world. And whenever she thought about it over the next few days, she felt a little fresher inside too.

  Alcoholic milkshakes came to an abrupt end a week later, after the fifth schoolchild collapsed in the street and the papers started going for their guts, and the pressure really came off at the office. That meant early days and heavy, sleepless nights spent hanging around the flat.

  Katie had called their mother, who sounded so nervous and put off by the whole thing that she’d almost washed her hands of her – her mum kept asking stupid questions, like whether Clara was getting married, and where was she going to have the baby, in a way that made it quite clear that, whilst mildly interested, she had absolutely no intention of getting involved more than she absolutely had to. Harry might complain about not having a mother, thought Katie uncharitably, but having one that was more interested in the price of carrots in Blackburn than her first grandchild was no picnic either.

  Clara, meanwhile, had become fretful and clingy, constantly asking Katie where her maternity bag was and whether or not all this was going to hurt. Neither of them, though, touched on where the baby was going to live when it was born. At the moment, Katie’s money was on her sock drawer.

  Katie couldn’t be bothered going out either. It was too hot, buses and Tubes had become instruments of torturous death by stinkification, and every bit of outside space was taken up with really young people drinking Smirnoff Ice, shrieking and having millions and millions of chums. Half of Katie’s chums had had babies and moved to Brighton, which was almost the same as if they’d all just died. The rest couldn’t be rounded up at the same time and required three weeks’ notice to plan a social event in the diary, something Katie simply couldn’t be arsed with at the moment. How people simply managed to drift together for a night out was completely beyond her. So, she and Clara stayed in, the two of them watching television and drinking iced water, and both, secretly, fretting.

  ‘RIGHT,’ said Louise, crashing through the door with her own key. She looked around the front room. It was covered in pizza boxes, empty ice-cube trays and grass, a craving Clara was pretending to have to annoy Katie.

  ‘You,’ she pointed at Katie. ‘You’re coming with me. For a drink. Somewhere nice, that doesn’t smell of cardboard and pepperoni.’

  ‘What about me?’ asked Clara who, eight months gone, now looked like one of the M&M men.

  ‘You can stay in and look after yourself for a change. What, you need Katie to babysit?’

  ‘She likes keeping me company.’

  ‘Katie, you need your eyebrows waxed,’ ordered Louise. ‘Olivia would have a shit fit. In fact, she will, because we’re meeting her in twenty-five minutes. Come on. We’re out of here.’

  Leaving Clara protesting on the sofa, Louise bundled Katie into the only decent clean top she had left in her wardrobe and out of the door, into a cab and straight off to YYY, a gorgeous new bar which had opened up on the river, just underneath the big wheel, where you could drink overpriced cocktails and stare at tourists as they looked inquisitively at the one-way mirrored glass that made up the walls. It was noisy and air-conditioned on the inside; the terrace, however, was quiet, and they could watch a heavy and beautifully sallow pollution sunset sink behind the Houses of Parliament.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Katie. ‘An intervention?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Olivia, as soon as she’d put gigantic vodka and tonics in front of the three of them. ‘You have been useless since you came home and chucked that job in.’

  ‘I did not “chuck” the job in. The client was impossibly rude to us, and I’d finished the work anyway. Pretty much. Kind of. Well, nothing they can’t handle.’

  ‘They can’t handle it,’ said Olivia.

  ‘NO,’ said Katie. ‘No no no no no. I’m not going up there again. I can’t handle the humiliation. Plus, I can’t, anyway. In case you hadn’t noticed, Clara’s having a baby.’

  ‘And you’re the father?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘Well, you’re certainly behaving like it.’

  ‘The Forestry Commission have been in touch,’ said Louise. ‘They want you back up there.’

  ‘Well, you seem to know a lot about my business,’ said Katie.

  ‘She snoops,’ said Olivia. The two girls looked at each other. It didn’t seem like the last few weeks had been a particular bundle of laughs for them either.

  ‘They want someone to help out on their big party night.’

  ‘Have they thought about hiring some waitresses?’

  Olivia ignored her and went on regardless. ‘So, anyway, you’re going. You need to write up the final report so we can bill them for it.’

  ‘I can’t! The ball’s next month, which is exactly when the baby’s due.’

  ‘The ball’s in two weeks, which is three weeks before her due date,’ said Louise. ‘You’ll have plenty of time. Get your mum in to look after her. Or she could look after herself. Plenty of people do.’

  Katie considered this.
Inside, she couldn’t help it, there was a part of her that wanted to go back again, just to see what was happening. And, God, she really really needed to get her car. It hadn’t mattered much at first, and she’d put it to the back of her mind, but now she needed to pick up cribs and get car seats, and what not…yes, all the fuss of having a baby without actually having one.

  ‘It’s not up for consideration,’ said Olivia. ‘Go finish the job.’

  ‘And I’ll come too!’ said Louise. ‘To help you drive the car home.’

  Katie looked at Olivia.

  ‘I found the money in the budget to authorise that,’ said Olivia, her face a mask. ‘Of course, she’ll have to help out…maybe stay a few days.’

  Katie wasn’t entirely convinced about using company funds just to get a few days of peace and quiet, but from the look on Louise’s face, it was entirely worth it.

  ‘Now – let’s have a few drinks and verbally emasculate any remaining men in the room!’

  ‘Yay!’ they all chinked glasses.

  Clara wasn’t pleased. This was an understatement. Clara acted as though she’d never been betrayed in this way before, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. But Katie reassured her constantly that everything was going to be fine, she was no distance away (a total lie, but Clara had only ever been to Third World countries and the sites of ancient druidic ruins, so didn’t know anything about where rural Scotland was likely to be).

  Katie also plucked up the courage to phone her mother to give her an ultimatum, then, just at the last minute, as she was about to go into her pre-prepared spiel, something stopped her. Clara was looking at her bump in the mirror, and self-pityingly complaining how she was never going to get back into her size six hipsters (although at least she’d stopped trying to squeeze into Katie’s ‘fat day’ jeans). When her mother answered, and started complaining about how her ears really hurt when she was too close to the phone when it rang, Katie took a deep breath. Then she handed the phone to her sister.

  ‘You talk to her.’

  ‘Me?’ Clara looked outraged.

  ‘If you want her, you talk to her,’ said Katie, hands held over the speaking end.

  Clara huffed her breath out and gestured with her hands for Katie to talk to her.

  Katie put the phone down and walked out of the room.

  In her bedroom, heart pounding, she waited, for what seemed like an agonisingly long time. Then, finally, she heard Clara tentatively start to speak. Feeling suddenly as if a weight had been lifted off her, she opened her suitcase and started to pack.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The little trundling train was just as she remembered it from before, except this time someone was carrying a piglet instead of a lamb, and talking to it in a low guttural croon. Watching the little pink body reminded Katie of Clara’s baby, and made her squirm a bit, and she turned to talk to Louise. Louise, however, was elsewhere, staring out of the window dreamily, pausing only occasionally to mention another outrageous habit of Olivia’s, often to do with the ‘it’s yoga, you must fart at will’ programme.

  ‘Have you ever seen…you know, a sky that big?’ asked Louise. ‘How come we never noticed it before?’

  ‘Because you were moaning about the cappuccino.’

  ‘Not this time!’ said Louise, patting her rucksack, where she had stowed six packets of Starbucks’ finest. ‘What do you think would happen if I opened up a Starbucks?’

  ‘Kelpie would burn it down.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’

  She went back to regarding the flowering hills – there were still daffodils blooming here, even though all signs of spring were long gone in the sweltering South. There were even tiny patches of snow still visible on top of the mountains. Louise was sighing with happiness.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ she asked Katie.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Katie. ‘Well, we put this ball on, I guess. I don’t think…’ her voice trailed off as she stared out of the window.

  ‘I don’t know how long we can stay on after that. This should get a lot of coverage, and really bring matters to a head if it’s well attended, and if, even better, we get some celebs involved, they’re going to have to face us across the board table sooner or later.’

  ‘Are you sure you can’t just get Iain to go and talk to his father?’

  Katie smiled ruefully. She thought of Iain, too scared to go and visit a dying woman. His father was probably even more frightening. She’d done a bit of research into his company, and ‘ruthless businessman’ didn’t even begin to cut it.

  ‘Well, probably not, for two reasons: one, I think he’s probably a bit…he probably doesn’t think it will help. And two, I am certainly not going to phone him up and ask him.’

  ‘Is that still getting to you? It was ages ago.’

  ‘Is what still getting to me? The fact that the only man I’ve slept with in a year went completely AWOL the second I left his bed and never contacted me once?’

  ‘Och, nonsense, he’s probably scared stiff of you. Give the boy a chance. After all, who’s the competition?’

  ‘Louise,’ said Katie sternly.

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Did you just say “och”?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Aye.’

  The station halt was bathed in late afternoon sunshine, with a fresh sharp wind that felt good all the way through Katie’s bones.

  ‘Oh God…it’s just so nice to be able to breathe again. Although I’m sure we’ll be moaning about the weather in no time, blah blah blah.’

  Louise nodded. Then she pointed across the long moor.

  ‘Hurray! Is that Harry in his Land-Rover?’

  It was. He bumped up to meet them, and stepped out, looking a little bit shamefacedly in Katie’s direction.

  ‘Hi,’ he said shyly.

  ‘Hello!’ said Louise, giving him a big bear hug. ‘You look great!’

  He did look good – he’d caught a touch of the sun on his cheekbones, and his hair had grown longer. He still looked like a young Gordon Brown. But now, Katie, for the life of her couldn’t remember why she had ever thought this was a bad thing.

  ‘Well, I see I’m not in the kennel with everyone,’ he smiled.

  ‘Oh, I forgot. You were a pig on Richard and Judy,’ said Louise sternly. ‘Then that actress got her baps out and I forgot all about it.’

  Harry looked shamefaced again. ‘Can I heartily apologise?’

  ‘For sure.’ Louise threw her backpack into the back of the Land-Rover. ‘Hello, Francis.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Harry to Katie.

  Katie gave him a half-smile. She was remembering the first time they’d met there. It seemed a long time ago now.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. Francis padded over to her, which for him was just about running. ‘Hello there,’ she said, as he licked her hand.

  ‘Uh, thanks for coming,’ said Harry, looking a little pink.

  ‘No problem,’ said Katie. ‘Once they’d stuck the bag over my head and bundled me into the back of the van, the rest was a breeze.’

  ‘So, what’s new?’ said Louise, holding on to Francis in the back seat.

  ‘Actually, ehm, quite a lot,’ said Harry. They stopped in the queue at the lights.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Louise suspiciously.

  ‘It’s a new traffic light. They had to put it in because of all the traffic’

  Sure enough, there were cars all over the road.

  ‘Who are these people?’ said Louise, a testy note creeping into her voice.

  ‘Uh, well, we seem to have become…’ Harry’s voice was suddenly drowned out by a pink convertible car screeching past them, playing ‘Holding Out for a Hero’ at full volume. Leaning out of the car and shrieking were at least five women in varying states of undress, waving bottles and with L plates on their backs. Louise and Katie stared at it in disbelief.

  ‘Um, something of a magnet for, uh, hen nights.’

&
nbsp; ‘You are joking,’ said Louise.

  ‘I think maybe we’re better off with the golfers,’ said Katie.

  The pinkmobile stopped short at the lights, then whisked onwards. Coming the other way, a large black limo with six women inside it wearing cheap veils honked their horns.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Katie, ‘we’ve created a monster.’

  ‘That’s why we need you,’ said Harry. ‘We’re completely overrun. They’re frightening the life out of the techies. And the sheep.’

  ‘Well, this is good, isn’t it?’ said Katie. ‘Lots of people around, lots of money coming in, and lots of the types of girls that frighten the types of men who like to play golf.’

  ‘Not everyone sees it as a good thing,’ said Harry. ‘Aunt Senga, for example, is beside herself. She thinks western civilisation is coming to an end.’

  ‘I’d have thought she’d like nice girls getting married,’ said Katie. Ahead, the pink convertible was stopping. One of the girls got out to be sick.

  ‘Ah,’ said Katie.

  ‘Kennedy is very excited,’ said Harry. ‘The ball is going to be huge. We promised him a cut, so he can fix his roof.’

  ‘I guess that’s fair,’ said Katie. ‘What about his cut for when marauding hordes of girls vomit all over the priceless antiques?’

  ‘It’s not the girls so much,’ said Harry as they drove through town. Everywhere, there were women, of every shape and size, pretending to look in shop windows or be admiring the view, but all the time their eyes were searching everywhere. Every lone male walking past was under intense scrutiny. It was entirely peculiar. ‘It’s more the older ladies who come on their own. They stand in the town square and dart after men, like bairns chasing chickens.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Louise, endearingly blind to her own romantic history. ‘Blooming mad slappers.’

  ‘Has your aunt kept a room for us?’ asked Katie.

  Harry nodded. ‘It’s the same one, I’m afraid. Just because she disapproves of our new visitors doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to make money out of them.’

  ‘I was afraid of that,’ said Katie. ‘Do you know what would be a good way to keep out a golf course? Build a luxury hotel.’