Tidings of Great Boys (19 page)

“Mac, that wasn’t yours, was it?”

“It had to be. Who else was shooting or even there?” Gillian sounded like a barrister at the flippin’ bar. All she needed
was a wig and queue. Who did she think she was, taking that tone with me in my own house?

“But how did it get on TV?” Carly sounded completely mystified.

“That’s the band.” Lissa pulled her ever-present mobile out of her pocket and began to brush the screen with a finger at top
speed. “Ohmigosh. It can’t be the same one. Wait a second. Aha!” She held it up. “Mac? That Anna chick you asked me to check
on about her band? That’s them. Blue Bella. And you know what?”

“What?” Carly answered when I didn’t.

“I just hired them to play Hogmanay for us.”

“Then you’d better unhire them.” Shani sounded grim as she sank onto the sofa. With me kneeling by the hearth, our eyes were
on a level. “I’m not having them play their hit single right in front of me. Which makes me wonder, how did they get that
footage?”

Her eyes were black holes of suspicion.

“I don’t know.” Was that my voice? This was certainly my throat, tight as twisted fabric. I tried again. “I have no idea how
my clip got to that band or how they got it on the show. It’s never left my computer.”

Those eyes said plainly they didn’t believe me, and Shani’s lips tightened on words a new Christian probably wasn’t allowed
to say.

“Have you lent your computer to anyone?” Gillian asked.

Enough was enough. “Look, you don’t need to cross-examine me. That’s my clip, off my camera, and I’ve said I have no idea
how it could have got out of this house, much less onto national television.”

“I’m only trying to—”

“We need to stop blaming and start acting.”

“No one’s blaming you, Lindsay,” Alasdair said quietly from the door.

“Shani is. I can see it in her eyes.”

“It’s kinda hard not to,” she retorted. “Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake and send it to someone?”

“Brett said he got some random group shot,” Carly said suddenly, “when you said in your e-mail it was footage of me. Could
you have gotten the clips mixed up?”

I felt my skin go cold. If Brett had gotten the clip I’d meant to send to Carrie, then what had Carrie gotten? And what had
she done with it?

No. No, that wasn’t possible. My best friend wouldn’t take something I’d sent her in private and post it for the entire world
to see.

No.

Without another word, I scrambled up off the floor and ran down the passage. Someone’s jacket hung next to the door. Didn’t
matter whose it was. I grabbed it and pulled it on, shoving my way outside. It was too snowy to ride the motorbike, but I
didn’t care. It was still the fastest way I knew to get across country to the village.

“CARRIE!” THE BEDROOM light’s subtle glow in the upstairs window told me she was home. At least I wouldn’t have to chase all
over the village looking for her. I pounded on the door.

“Mac.” Mr. Crombie blinked at me, roused from his program on the telly as if he’d been roused from sleep. “A happy holiday
to you. We’ll see you at the bells, yeah?”

“Of course, Mr. Crombie.” I gave him a quick kiss. “We’re expecting all of you. Dancing starts at eight, with supper at ten.”

“You’ll find Caroline upstairs, plugged into some bit of wiring.”

“Thanks.”

When I pushed open the bedroom door—painted white on the corridor side and purple on her side—I saw Carrie stretched out on
the bed, eyes closed, playing air guitar with her earbuds in.

I grabbed her foot and shook it, hard. “Carrie. Take those out and talk to me.”

“What?” She yanked them out and stopped the song. “What are you doing here?”

“You have to tell me something.”

“Did Dad let you in?”

“Of course. D’you think I broke in through a window?”

“Wi’ you, a person never knows.” She pushed herself up against the headboard, careless that her boots left streaks on the
coverlet. I looked round the room. It looked as though a tornado had hit it. It had always looked like that, but when we were
best friends, I’d seen the order in the chaos because I’d known Carrie’s mind.

When we were best friends.

Somehow, the fact that I couldn’t read her mess anymore woke me up. Carrie and I weren’t best friends anymore. Just friends.
Maybe not even that. Had I really grown away from her so quickly? Or had it been coming on for a long time and I just hadn’t
wanted to admit it?

“So, are you going to tell me what’s up, or are you just going to sit there staring?” She reached for a crumpled bag of crisps
and hunted through it. Only salty, oily crumbs remained at the bottom, so she tossed it on the floor.

“A couple of days ago, I sent you a bit of video. But I think I sent you the wrong clip. Do you remember what it was?”

She shrugged and looked away.

Bingo, as the girls up at my house would say.

“Carrie, was it a clip of Shani Hanna saying she was a princess?”

Another shrug. “I don’t pay much attention tae rubbish about your American friends. I thought it was going to be something
juicy about your braw new lad.”

“I don’t think Anna Grange thought it was rubbish. Did you see
London Calling
tonight?”

Color crept up the side of her neck and tinged her ears. “No. Dad’s had the telly on some stupid movie.”

“So you haven’t happened to see the music video that Blue Bella made out of that clip? Do you have any idea what this has
done to Shani?”

She rounded on me like a cat whose tail has just been stepped on. “And what do I care what your stupid American friends feel?
Or you, either? You’ve moved on, haven’t you, and left your old mates behind.”

“I have not. You’re still my friend.”

“But it’s no’ the same, is it?” Her eyes, ringed with mascara and purple shadow, filled. “We were better friends when we were
Skyping across the ocean. Now that you’re here, ye have no’ got even a minute for me.”

“Carrie, for Pete’s sake, I’ve been putting together the Hogmanay party. We’ve been working like dogs.”

“We would have come up tae help. But you’d rather swot through housework wi’ them than let us through the door. Even Gordon
said so, and it takes a lot tae make him notice anything.”

“Gordon just wants to pop down the cellar steps and see what Dad’s got cooking down there.”

“That’s not true.”

“Carrie, just tell me. Did you send that clip on to Anna or not?” She shrugged, and I knew she had. “Do you have any idea
what this is going to do?”

“No, and I don’t care.”

“If you had an ounce of compassion, you would care. Now poor Shani is going to get barraged by the media.”

“Oh, the puir thing. She should keep her mouth shut about her stupid prince, then.”

“She wasn’t talking about the prince at all, you ninny. She was talking about God.”

Blank stare.

“It’s a Christian in-joke. About being a princess in God’s eyes because you’re part of His family.”

Her mouth fell open in complete incomprehension, then snapped shut. “Dinna tell me you’ve become a Bible thumper.”

“No, of course not.”

“You sure sound like it. They’re all Christians, aren’t they, those girls? Every one.”

“So am I, in a different way. And Dad.”

“Just because you fill the family pew on a Sunday doesna mean you’re a Christian.”

I blinked, hardly able to give her credit for this shrewd bit of observation. “Well, maybe not, but at least I know right
from wrong. And spreading something that was meant for you alone was wrong.”

“It wasna meant for me. I thought it was supposed to be something about your new laddie. So where was the harm?”

She was never going to get it. But her stage was no wider than this village. Her prospects went no further than winning a
place at university, which I knew for a fact she had no intention of doing. She was going to stay right here until she and
Gordon decided they’d better get married, just for something to do.

And my stage? It was international. I knew exactly how much harm that video could do, spiraling up out of this village and
spreading like a storm to wreak its destruction on shores as far away as Yasir and California.

I had to get home. Shani would need all the help we could give her for damage control.

I turned to the door. “I’m off, then. Good-bye.”

But she’d already put her earbuds back in and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see her former best friend leave.

THE TRIP HOME, sometimes riding and sometimes pushing the bike, was a lot slower and colder than the trip in. Had I really
used to bike or ride this distance with so little effort that the two miles were gone in a blink? Of course, doing it at night,
in the snow, was a different proposition than on a warm summer’s day.

The fringe of the woods marked the one-mile point. I plunged into the dark grimly. Of course I knew every step of the way—every
rock and bush growing across the path. But with the pines blocking the moon, the going was slow, and keeping the bike in the
track it had made half an hour before wasn’t easy. On the steepest slope, I had to be careful because the rear wheel kept
sliding out from under me.

A light glimmered through the trees, bobbing and weaving. “Lindsay!” a male voice called. “Mac, is that you?”

I coasted to a stop and shut off the ignition. “Alasdair? What on earth are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you, obviously.” A dark shape materialized through the trees, half illuminated by the torch. Then it slid wildly
sideways.

“Watch it!” I helped him to his feet and brushed snow from his jacket. “Puddles. They must have frozen.”

“I can’t believe you’re out here on a motorbike. Are you crazy?”

“I had somewhere to go.”

“The girls are freaking. Your dad had to hold Carly back from the door by main force.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, I see that.” He picked up the bike where it had fallen over and began to push it down the path. “But they don’t know
it. They think you rushed out to do yourself harm or something.”

“If you’d let go of my bike, I’ll ride home and tell them it’s all right.”

“Not a chance. No, don’t grab. We’ll walk home together.”

“Yes, Dad.”

He handed me the torch and ignored that. “Make yourself useful and shine this ahead of us, will you?”

“You’re the only one who needs it. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

“Maybe so. But you still gave everyone a fright. What was so important out here in the freezing dark, anyway?”

Old loyalty fought with new. For about five seconds. “I had to find out who sent that clip of Shani. And I did.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t want to say. It’s too late now, anyway. But I gave them an earful and I think I’ve lost a friend.”

“Ah.” Silence while our feet crunched and slopped through the snow. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I suppose I should have expected it. She’s been jealous of the girls for months. It must have seemed like a fine joke to
play when I sent that video by mistake. She sent it to Anna, and the band made hay with it. And now all you-know-what is going
to break loose.”

“Maybe it won’t. Who pays attention to all those celebrity gossip programs?”

“Everyone.” Did he live under a rock? “Including St. James’s Palace.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong.”

“Meanwhile, the girls all think I sent it off on purpose.” I sounded miserable, even to myself.

“And did you?”

“Of course not! I mixed up the clips. I was in a hurry and made a mistake. That’s all.”

“I’m sure when you explain it to them, they’ll understand.”

“Maybe they will, but that won’t make anyone feel better. Especially if the tabs get ahold of it.”

“The tabs are always barking after something. Someone else will make a mistake and it’ll all be forgotten in the rush.”

“I wish I could think so.”

It might be five degrees below zero, and my feet in my trainers were soaked, but the rest of me felt warm. Maybe it was the
physical effort it took to stay upright on this path, but I thought it was probably the fact that Alasdair had come out in
the dark and cold to find me.