Where Have All the Boys Gone? (21 page)

‘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 thinking? 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.’

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.

She was back into the London life and Olivia had taken pity on her, and considered her job – raising the profile of the Forestry Commission – absolutely completed, considering they’d made it to
Richard and Judy, and
subsequently, into various national papers and women’s magazines who’d gone in search of this mystical Brigadoon full of hunky men who walked their dogs and wished for nice old-fashioned women. ‘Are you absolutely
sure we’re doing the right thing in telling them?’ Louise had said, scandalised. ‘You’ll ruin it just as surely as that golf course definitely will when they definitely build it now you’re not there.’ To which Katie had replied ‘lalallalallala’ with her fingers in her ears.

She ignored it all. If she even caught the name Scotland in the papers, she quickly turned the page and concentrated on something else, like her new clients, who were trying to market a new range of alcoholic milkshakes and ice creams which were undeniably delicious but, Katie felt, possibly a little unethical. Olivia had said, don’t talk nonsense, anyone who ate dairy was already taking their life into their hands, so Katie spent her time on arranging lots of theme nights at bars, then turning up and drinking the milkshakes. It was fun, kind of, and it was uncomplicated, definitely. She got recognised once or twice for being on
Richard and Judy,
and was something of a minor celebrity amongst her workmates, who were constantly threatening to go off and live in the land of endless men, but that didn’t last beyond a week or so, particularly as the half-naked Star Mackintosh had garnered the lion’s share of the publicity.

Iain – who hadn’t even called after the show – began to fade to something of a dull ache in her memory, like a not-quite-healed scab that you forgot about most of the time, until it catches on something. She wondered occasionally what his newspaper was saying, but wouldn’t let herself find out.

‘I don’t miss it, do you?’ she’d say to Louise when they were sitting in a nice restaurant or the back of a taxi, and Louise would do her best to shake her head stoically and say no, she didn’t miss it either.

As for Harry, well, sod him. A bit of her wondered if maybe he was jealous, but she quickly dismissed the
thought. No, he was just a boor, and one she could well do without. Her mother had called to say he looked like a lovely young man, but Louise had been shocked too by his behaviour. Harry might have been grumpy and brusque, but they’d never thought him unkind.

Louise was better now too. She’d calmed down a little, and didn’t talk very much about Fairlish either; just a quiet sigh now and again when the weather grew a little too hot and oppressive and there was no breeze coming in off the hills, because there weren’t any hills. And life carried on much as before, and the three of them went to smart new clubs and bars and the occasional desultory date that didn’t seem to amount to anything much. At least Katie had started walking about the streets again. The spring sank into a muggy, warm summer, and the heat seemed to settle close to the ground, with the car fumes almost visible over the top. People became less cheerful as the sticky nights intensified until it was difficult to breathe. Although, sales of alcoholic ice cream went through the roof.

And then, out of the blue, Clara came home.

It was Sunday, and they were around at Katie’s as usual. If you didn’t mind stretching through and handing things in and out, you could sit on top of the picture window of the downstairs apartment, which was covered in gravel. Katie wasn’t sure it was strictly legal, but it was nice, in the heat, to be outside.

They had the papers, some bacon sandwiches and good coffee and were happily sitting down to explore the tabloids, when, out of the corner of her eye, Katie caught sight of an oddly-shaped, but grimly determined-looking figure, hauling a huge misshapen rucksack up the road. There was something familiar about the walk. Katie put down her sandwich.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Louise. ‘Can I have yours? Apparently bacon sarnies are OK on the all-new celebrity bikini diet. It says so right here.’

‘You’re all going to die,’ said Olivia, munching on something brown she’d brought herself in a Tupperware container that smelled of old car tyres.

‘I think…’ Katie was careful not to lean out too far, in case she fell over. ‘Hang on here, guys.’

She went downstairs and ran into the street, conscious of the other two watching from above. It was her sister, but not the tanned, slender happy-go-lucky Clara she’d seen last year. This Clara was huge, greasy, brown and sweating from pulling her huge bag behind her.

‘What…what…are you
doing
here?’ said Katie.

Clara put her bag down and burst into tears.

Katie led her inside, as the other two came in from the window ledge.

Louise’s face was a mask; trying to look cool and unconcerned, she merely looked pale and strange and mildly homicidal. She looked at Clara’s face, which was streaked with dirt. She was wearing an old dirty poncho, which didn’t really cover her massive, wide bump.

‘Hello Clara. You look great,’ she said stiffly. ‘It really suits you. I’m off out. Anyone want anything?’

Clara’s crying redoubled. ‘I’m sorry, Louise,’ she sobbed.

‘I’m amazed you remember my name,’ said Louise. ‘You didn’t before. Excuse me.’

And she walked out, with some dignity, Katie thought.

Olivia brought in a pot of herbal tea, which was disgusting, as usual, but Clara liked it.

‘OK,’ said Katie. ‘Tell me the whole story.’

Except there wasn’t much to the story, of course, although it took a while to come out between the choking
sobs. Turns out being unmarried and pregnant in India wasn’t quite the barrel of laughs she’d thought it was going to be, with the added stress of Max suddenly getting an acute attack of the middle-class boys and wanting to go home and get a job, and realising that actually he’d always wanted a family but in fact really would have preferred it with someone a bit more down to earth, like, say, Louise, instead of a flighty free spirit, like, say, Clara.

‘He just got so
cold,’
she sobbed. ‘Like, it wasn’t fun any more. So he didn’t bother.’

‘How pregnant
are
you?’ said Katie. ‘I thought you were only a few months along.’

‘No, we got pregnant really early, but I didn’t notice for ages. I was throwing up all the time anyway, and my periods have always been all over the place, what with being so thin and stuff…’

Katie was internally rolling her eyes but tried not to show it. ‘So?’

Clara looked down. ‘I think, about seven and a half.’

‘Months?
Good God!’

Katie was pleased Louise wasn’t around to hear that; she’d have flown at her. Obviously, despite years of cautioning Louise to patience, Max had forgotten all about contraception within about fifteen seconds of meeting Clara.

‘I know,’ said Clara miserably. ‘Then the monsoon rains came, and we were staying in a little hut, because we’re nearly out of money, and Max starts kicking everything about, and swearing, and saying this is all shit and how can we bring a baby into this, and that he must have gone completely crazy when he met me, and he wished it had never bloody happened.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ said Katie, putting her arm around
Clara’s neck. And she was, too. It doesn’t matter how much you might be annoyed with someone, if they truly get their comeuppance, it doesn’t make you feel good in the slightest; especially if they’re family.

Clara sniffed. ‘So, I got a rickshaw into town then caught a train, which took ages, then I caught a plane – I used your credit card number by the way.’

Katie let this go for the moment.

‘And here I am. And I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I’m going to have a baby with a complete pig, and I don’t know where to go or how I’m going to look after it and I’m going to turn into one of those benefits mothers and end up having to go on
Trisha…
’

Her sobs began to take on a hysterical quality.

‘You’re just very tired,’ said Katie. ‘We are going to do bath, then bed, then figure out what we’re going to do later. It’s going to be all right, I promise.’

Clara looked at her with an expression that betrayed how much she really really needed this to be true.

‘Thanks, sis. I knew I could count on you.’

Once Clara was safely despatched to Katie’s bed, they felt it safe to call Louise back.

‘Guess I’d better start packing,’ Louise said when she returned, refusing Olivia’s tea with some disdain.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Katie, shocked. ‘Give her two days and I’ll pack her straight off to Mum’s.’

‘Your mum won’t want the fuss.’

‘Nobody wants the fuss! And Mum started it.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Louise. ‘You know, it looks like friends aren’t the new family after all.’

Katie looked at her with huge fondness. ‘Don’t move out. Please.’

‘Honestly,’ said Louise. ‘I couldn’t…after what she
did to me. I couldn’t spend one night under the same roof as her.’

‘I understand,’ said Katie sadly. ‘But where are you going to go?’

Louise made a funny noise at the back of her throat. ‘You know a funny thing? I bet Max would take me back.’

‘I bet he would too,’ said Katie. ‘You wouldn’t go though, would you?’

Louise’s eyes were shining with tears. ‘I’d rather eat kittens.’

Katie crossed the room and gave her a huge hug. Which didn’t quite solve the immediate problem.

Louise’s parents had retired to Wales. Both Katie and Louise were suddenly very conscious of continuously hugging, and not looking at Olivia. Olivia hated having anyone to stay. Olivia wasn’t entirely keen on having people around at all, for any length of time. Olivia’s house was a Feng-Shuied shrine in white, cream and taupe, with candles burning everywhere and expensive, fragile pieces of pottery. There was a gigantic Buddha at one end of the sitting room, and lots of expensively-covered cushions scattered around to create a ‘womb space’. Personally Katie would hate to live somewhere you couldn’t spill tea on the floor, but it was Olivia’s temple.

There was a very long silence, followed by a very long sigh from Olivia’s direction.

‘Well, I
suppose
you could stay at mine,’ she said. ‘For a little bit.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Louise. ‘I could always go live under Waterloo Bridge. Katie, pass me that newspaper. I’ll need it for insulation.’

‘No, no. Please. Come and stay…until you find somewhere of your own.’

‘That will be very,
very
soon,’ said Louise. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Katie, fervently.

Looking after Clara, Katie felt she was getting a sense of what it would be like to have a baby of her own. She cried all day, hated getting bathed and slept at peculiar times. It was fascinating to spend time so close up with a huge pregnant belly. Great big blue veins pulsed from her breasts (now huge) to the top of her stomach. You could actually see it move, kicked from the inside out.

‘That is the weirdest thing,’ said Katie one day, resting her hand on it as they were watching
EastEnders.

‘I feel like I’m in
Alien,’
Clara grumbled. ‘That I only exist to ensure the survival of this…parasite.’

‘You do,’ said Katie. ‘That’s how the survival of the species works. That’s why women always used to die in childbirth.’

Clara sighed again and eyed her big belly with some distaste. Max had phoned, but really just to check she was all right (‘how can I be all right?’ Clara had screamed, ‘I’m carrying the spawn of Satan!’), and to work out how much money she wanted. When Katie spoke to him, he seemed more interested in getting Louise’s new telephone number than he did in having any access to his baby.

Katie told Clara he’d feel differently when the baby came, but she wasn’t sure about that. Max sounded wretched. He was having terrible trouble getting back in the job market, and now he was carrying the mortgage all by himself, having given his tenants notice. He was, thought Katie, someone who deep down did just want to settle with someone like Louise and have a family. Then he’d seen the men around him swan about with a different gorgeous girl on their arm every night of the week and felt he was badly missing out on something all the other
lads were enjoying. So he’d panicked. It wasn’t really him. She’d feel sorry for him, if he hadn’t cheated on her best friend, then got her sister up the duff, then ditched her. So, as it was, she was icy cold on the rare occasions he got in contact.

Katie had put off phoning their mother, who would get awkward and antsy and not know what to do, but she really had to. If there were two of them around who didn’t know what to do, surely that would make things a little easier. At least her mother had been through childbirth, though you wouldn’t necessarily think to look at her that she’d approve of something that messy.

It went without saying that Clara’s hippy, on-the-road friends had vanished completely. Presumably someone in Clara’s circumstances who was not overjoyed and planning on calling the baby Rainbow Sugardrop was just too much of a bummer, man.

So it was just the two of them, and, oddly, although it was much more work, and the future looked vaguely threatening, as sisters, they were getting on better than they ever had before.

The heat rolled on into July. London was suffocating now. Old people were dying in their homes. Dogs were getting trapped in cars. People, suffering from the lack of sleep at nights, were becoming snappish, fraught. The roads were melting, cars were overheating. Clara, lugging about another person, was finding it very difficult, and spent most of the day drinking frappucinos underneath the electric fan, a habit Katie was finding a little expensive. It occurred to her that Clara had never had a job more complicated than massage or making rubbish little pieces of jewellery to sell at music festivals, but she didn’t feel able to bring that up – after all, she could hardly ask her
to get her feet on the career ladder now. She couldn’t even see her feet.