Free Where Have All the Boys Gone? by Jenny Colgan Page B

to them to just go there.’
    Katie turned back towards the car. ‘Well, there’s no parking problems.’
    ‘Can I sit in your car all afternoon?’
    ‘Yes. And by the way, Iain asked me out for a drink tonight.’
    Louise squealed. ‘You bitch! You cast-iron bitch!’
    By a tremulous stroke of bad luck, around the cobbled corner at that exact moment came Kelpie and her two cronies. They stared at each other for a moment. Then hurried away in barely concealed hysterics.
    ‘CAAARRRRSSSTTTTT AYRRRON BEEETCH!’ echoed up and down the high street.
    ‘I’m actually glad to know we’ve doubled the entertainment available in this town in such a short space of time,’ said Katie, unlocking the car. ‘We should sell tickets.’
    ‘Well?’ Harry barked, somewhat rudely. He seemed preoccupied, eating a large home-made sandwich. Derek was nowhere to be seen. Katie was starving and watched him munch away, salivating. Carelessly, he ripped off a piece of his sandwich and threw it on the floor. Before Katie had time to object, there was a lazy snapping sound. Leaning over the desk, Katie saw the most beautiful black Labrador stretched out at his feet.
    ‘Ooh, lovely doggie,’ said Katie, before she could help herself. Harry looked at her as if she’d just insulted his mother (which of course, she’d already managed earlier).
    ‘Francis isn’t a “doggie”,’ said Harry, spluttering crumbs. ‘He’s a working animal.’
    Francis didn’t look anything like a working animal, unless he was a member of a particularly strong trade union. He batted his long eyelashes at her twice, then fell asleep.
    ‘Sorry,’ said Katie. ‘Does he bite?’
    ‘Yes, that’s the kind of work he does,’ said Harry scathingly. ‘He bites ditzy PR girls. Got his paws full around here.’
    ‘You’re a very hostile person,’ said Katie. ‘Is it the sandwich?’
    For once, Harry looked nonplussed. He soon regained his sangfroid. ‘What did Kinross say?’
    ‘I think you may have something of an image problem,’ said Katie.
    ‘In English?’
    ‘Um, he says…’ she consulted her notebook urgently, ‘that there’s an issue with biodiversity, herons, food chainimplications, blah blah blah…basically you’re killing all the trees.’
    ‘Typical!’ said Harry furiously. ‘I’m going to kill that little prick.’
    ‘And we come back to the image problem.’
    ‘OK,’ said Harry. ‘Now you see our problem. So, what are you going to do about that little shit?’
    This was Katie’s moment. She was usually pretty good at the client pitch of how they were going to find the USP and work it to their point of view, then extend that point of view throughout the nation. Although usually facing her across the table were excited haircare product manufacturers and the implication was that she could get it about that Jennifer Aniston used their gunk. She wasn’t used to trying to convince a homicidal tree-hugger and his gently snoring dog.
    ‘Well, first, I think we need to have a meeting. Have a frank and fearless exchange of views. Really get to grips with what the underlying misunderstandings are. Maybe over a nice lunch somewhere. Then…’
    ‘Well, that’s absolutely out of the question,’ said Harry. ‘Next.’
    ‘There’s nowhere to get a nice lunch?’
    ‘Well, that too. But I hate that lying son of a bitch.’
    ‘Why?’
    Katie was excitedly picking over the possibilities in her head. There must be a girl involved, surely? Hearts broken? Ooh, maybe they were long-lost brothers? TWINS, bitter rivals, born on the same day, to grow up to strive over the heart and soul of the town, nay, the very Highlands themselves…
    ‘That’s none of your business,’ said Harry, heading out of the door.
    ‘He’s such a grumpy bastard,’ moaned Katie later, back at their digs.
    ‘He really does sound like Gordon Brown. Are you sure he’s not a bit romantic and rugged?’
    Louise was putting make-up on, thus intruding on Katie’s