Tidings of Great Boys (26 page)

Gillian sat at the piano as if that had been her aim all along, and began to ripple out something complicated. A Schubert
sonata.

“So.” Gordon raised his voice over the music. “What do you think of all the goings-on? Pretty exciting, yeah?”

“That’s not what I’d call it,” Carly replied.

“Oh, right. It’s your friend they’re after. Seen Mac?”

“No.”

“I know where she is,” Lily said smugly. “She hates stuffy parties like this. She’s probably out back in the garage. You can
smoke there, Gordon.”

“Why would Mac be in the garage?” The sonata stopped in mid-phrase and Gillian got up, her dress whispering with irritation
as she strode over to stand next to Carly. “This is her party. And frankly, I’m surprised to see you here, Carrie. Since you’re
pretty much responsible for all this ‘excitement,’ as you call it.”

Carrie shrugged, but the little smile curling her mouth told me she was quite chuffed that her posting that clip had resulted
in helicopters and Secret Service agents and a story she could live off for years. It probably trumped anything I’d ever done,
and that was the biggest score of all.

“You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it,” Carrie said. “You’ll never be famous on YouTube, will you?”

“I’m already on YouTube.” Gillian’s tone was crushing. “Dozens of places. I’ve been performing on the piano since I was little.
And that’s not even counting the clips from
E! News
at the premiere, or the ones from Fashion Week in New York. It’s not that big a deal.”

Again I thought of the difference in the stage Carrie played on and the one my friends and I played on.
Score one for you, Gillian.

“Besides,” Carly said, “we would never post something about a friend just to make ourselves look good.”

“Your little unprincess wasn’t my friend. And Mac sent that to me for fun. You should be preaching at her, Christian girl,
not me. She’s the one who started this, if you want to get right down to it.”

“Nothing like pushing off the blame,” Gillian said as if she were commenting on a bad movie. “I know, let’s see how many friends
we’ll lose if we never own up to anything!”

“Oh, sorry,” Carly deadpanned. “I stopped playing that game when I was five.”

Carrie tried a withering smile, but didn’t quite pull it off.

“So is it true the Hanna girl has ditched you all?” Gordon wanted to know. “Gone? Shoved off?”

“That’s none of your business,” Gillian snapped.

“Because if she didn’t, you, like, lied to government agents.”

“I bet they
did
lie.” Lily’s eyes filled with hunger for yet more scandal. “But I bet they wouldn’t stand up to those guys in a one-on-one
interrogation. You know, like on
Prison Break
.”

Gordon swung an arm toward the door in invitation. “You go find Mac and that Shani girl. We’ll make sure these ones don’t
escape. I’d love to see Mac have to back down and admit she lied in front of everyone.”

How had I ever been friends with that big galoot? I’d had about enough of their idiocy. One more word and I was tripping the
latch on this bookcase and giving those eejits a piece of my—

Shani’s fingers closed on my wrist and squeezed.
Don’t lose it.

Right. Carly and Gillian, of all people, were quite capable of taking care of themselves.

“Touch me and you’ll regret it,” Gillian told Gordon pleasantly.

“What, have you got a black belt or something, Christian girl? What happened to turning the other cheek?”

“Nice racial profiling,” Carly noted. “Have you ever had a single thought that wasn’t a cliché?”

Gordon didn’t know which insult to respond to first. As a result, he just gaped and sputtered. Carrie rolled her eyes. “Come
on, you lot. This is a bore. I’m out of here.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Gillian told her.

Carrie reversed direction abruptly and got up in Gillian’s face. “Don’t take that tone wi’ me. We all know Mac is dead bored
with all yer Bible thumping and more-Hollywood-than-thou nonsense. She knows who she can trust.”

Gillian smiled into Carrie’s angry eyes. “I believe it.”

“I didn’t mean you.”

“Neither did I.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Are you talking about God? That’s a laugh. Mac never paid two cents’ worth of attention
to that fairy tale, and you’re deluding yersel’ if ye think she’s any better than we are. In fact, compared wi’ her, we’re
a bunch of angels.”

Wasn’t it nice to know what my old friends really thought of me?

“She’s arrogant and selfish and we only put up with her because she’s got the dosh to have a guid time.” Carrie took a deep
breath. “In fact, you’re welcome to her, Christian girl. She can ignore you and stab you in the back and kick you to the curb
and
you
can see how it feels. And then you can come back and tell me who you trust.”

“Are you done?” Gillian asked. “Because if you are, Carly and I are going to go get some supper.”

Carrie flung her hands in the air and Gillian didn’t even flinch. “Fine. You’re welcome to her. I hope I never see Lady Lindsay
MacPhail again.”

“I’d say chances of that are pretty good,” Carly said to Gillian as my ex-friends practically trampled themselves in their
hurry to get out the door with the last word.

“Uh-huh,” Gillian agreed. “Hey, girlfriend. Check out the bookcase. I could use a really good book on hunting.”

MUMMY PUSHED OPEN the sitting-room door with one hip and carried in two plates heaped with food. Dad followed her with a tray
of drinks.

“Lindsay, darling, it’s all clear,” she told us through the bookcase. “The helicopter just took off.”

“Is that for us?” I tried not to sound too pathetic as I pushed the latch, and the books and shelving swung slowly outward.

“I sure hope so.” Shani stumbled into the room on my heels and zeroed in on the table like a heat-seeking missile.

“Of course it is. Here.” Dad handed her a tall glass of punch and pulled out a chair. Then he got a good look at me. “Good
heavens, child. Have you been scrambling about in the walls in your petticoat? How did you not freeze?”

“There wasn’t time to think about it. And I’m perfectly decent for present company. I’ll go up and change as soon as I’m fed.”
Both of us tucked in as if we hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Dad, are you sure it’s going to be okay?” I asked a few minutes later, round a huge mouthful of baked Brie and olives. “How
angry were they?”

“Not half as angry as I was.” Dad’s smile faded, then revived again as he met my eyes. “When they couldn’t turn you up in
the house and were threatening to do a sweep of the grounds, I finally lost it.”

Mummy pulled in her chin and mimicked him. “ ‘If two girls in evening clothes can hide themselves outdoors in twenty-degree
weather, you’re welcome to look, but you’re no’ coming back inside.’” She relaxed into a grin. “Well done, darling. Very much
the threatening laird.”

Dad’s face held a mixture of pride and sheepishness. “I could not have them chasing my guests all over hill and dale. And
speaking of well done—nice work, Lindsay. I’d completely forgotten about the hidey-hole in the games room.”

“If Carly hadn’t told us what you planned to do, I’d have been frantic.” Mummy touched my hand. “You kept your head. I’m proud
of you.”

I blinked back the sudden rush of tears. “I couldn’t very well let them drag poor Shani off to who knows where to be interrogated
or screeched at or tossed in prison or whatever the Sheikh planned to do. I mean, how illegal.”

“I’m sure he would have just asked her a few questions in his hotel suite,” Mummy said, “but that doesn’t mean he has to use
high-handed methods like sending helicopters. A letter would have done the job, or a simple phone call. In any case, we would
not have allowed it, Secret Service or not. The only bad thing is, the press have gone away with a nice, juicy story about
the missing pretender to the throne.” She sighed and gave Shani a glance filled with regret. “We couldn’t cover everything.”

“I can handle it,” she said. “First thing tomorrow, I’m calling Rashid to give him an earful about his parents. At least I
can do
that
before the story hits the papers.”

“Look at it this way. You’ll have done your bit with publicity for Strathcairn.” Then, a second too late to take it back,
I glanced at Dad. “Um. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “If your friends don’t mind your using them ruthlessly for publicity, why should I?” Shani grinned at him,
and he turned to me and went on, “Your mother and I have been talking.”

I looked from one to the other. There were so many things to talk about I hardly knew where they might begin.

“I can leave.” Shani pushed herself away from the table. “Give you guys some privacy.”

“Oh, but—” Mummy began.

“Seriously.” Shani picked up her plate and glass of punch. “I’ll go find the girls. After this great food I’m going to need
to dance some more, anyway. And maybe sign some autographs.”

“Hang on. Madame’s got spiderwebs.” I brushed off the back of her dress. “Thanks, Shani.”

She smiled into my eyes from the door. “I’ma call it even, girlfriend.” Then she closed it behind her, leaving me with my
parents.

“You won’t have… trouble because of all this, will you?” Mummy asked.

“What, from Shani?” I shook my head as I sat and picked up my fork. “No. She knows the whole thing with the movie clip was
a mistake. We all know who was really responsible. I’m just sorry it took me so long to see who my real friends are, that’s
all.”

We only put up with her because she’s got the dosh to have a good time
. Whether it was true or not, Carrie’s scornful voice would ring in my memory for a long time. Which was good. It would guarantee
I wouldn’t do anything stupid, like trust her with my friendship, ever again.

Under the table, Dad took Mummy’s hand. “It’s good to know the people in your life who really care.”

I glanced pointedly at their hands, and Mummy’s jerked briefly, then relaxed. “So I see.”

“I’ve been stubborn and stupid and ridiculous,” Mummy said. “And your dad has been nice enough not to call me any of those
things.”

“There are things I’d rather call you,” he told her. “
Mo cridhe.
”

Oh, gag. But still, I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face, or the warm glow of happiness growing in my chest.

“Would you be very upset if we didn’t live in London anymore, darling?” Mummy asked.

I shrugged and speared a sausage tart. “It’s nowt to me. I’ll be living in the dorms at the University of Edinburgh soon enough,
probably.”

“Over your grandmother’s dead body,” Dad told me. “She says if you’re living anywhere while you go to classes, it’s with her.”

“What, have you been talking about me behind my back?”

“I’m afraid so. She ambushed me behind the potted palms and gave me an earful about responsibility and loss and all the things
that have been plaguing me ever since you and your friends came to visit.” He smiled at me. “And the position of Managing
Director of the Strathcairn Hotel and Corporate Retreat Centre just… sort of… came up.”

I laid my fork down. “Dad. You’re going to do it? Mummy, you’re coming home?”

“The two events are not necessarily related,” my mother said, “but yes. As soon as you’ve finished the last term at St. Cecelia’s,
I’ll put the house in Eaton Square up for sale. And we’ll both come home. For good.”

I swallowed the tart past the huge lump in my throat. And then I did what I never do. I burst into tears of sheer happiness.

Sometimes the best-laid plans really do work out.

With a little help from your friends.

AT A QUARTER before midnight, the chemist from the village spun me into a turn—and right into the chest of Alasdair Gibson.

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all,” the chemist said, red-faced. “I need a few more lessons before I try this again.”

I smiled as the music segued into a nice slow number from the early nineties. The DJ and I were thinking as one being. Either
that, or he really wanted to be paid and had listened to every one of my threats.