The young guy in charge of audio-visuals pressed some buttons and a photo of The Scotsman’s front page appeared on the wall.
“This is what we need to deal with,” Dougal said at a more normal level. He tugged his green tartan waistcoat over his belly and pointed at the wall. “We’re attracting a lot of attention and we need to put it to good use—before we become a national laughing stock.”
Kirsty cringed as she read the headline: InverTARTY, the sexy side of Highland living.
“I think it’s great,” said Lake.
“You would,” whispered Kirsty.
“Now,” Dougal said. “The unofficial town council has had a talk about this and we think that it’s best to take it in good humour. If we kick up a fuss, it will make us look like we’re small-minded. Instead we think that we should capitalise on it and use the publicity to get more people into town for our famous market.”
“I’m guessing the market is only famous in Invertary,” Lake whispered in her ear.
Kirsty narrowed her eyes at him.
“Caroline?” Dougal bellowed, although she was right beside him.
Caroline walked to the lectern, her back ramrod straight as usual. She was wearing another grey suit. Kirsty made a mental note to buy her something colourful for Christmas—if the shop made enough money by then for her to buy presents.
“The market website has received a lot more hits than usual,” Caroline was saying. “Accommodation at the Scottie Dog is now full and Mrs Granger’s Bed and Breakfast only has one bed left. The campsite has reported that people are planning to bring their caravans.”
“Can we at least agree to tell anyone with a tent to get lost this year?” someone shouted.
Lake nudged Kirsty with his elbow.
“Someone almost died of hypothermia when they camped out last year,” she told him.
“Amateurs,” he said.
“There will be no camping this year,” Caroline said firmly. “A dead tourist wouldn’t be good for business.”
“No kidding,” muttered Lake.
Kirsty ignored him.
“What we need,” continued Caroline, “is for more houses to open up as temporary B+B’s. Raise your hand if you’re interested and someone will come around, inspect the place and give you an official certificate.”
She pointed at the boy on audio-visuals and a copy of the certificate appeared on the wall. It said: Official accommodation approved by the unofficial Invertary council. Kirsty could feel Lake’s shoulders shake beside her as he laughed silently.
“We’ve also decided to advertise the market a little more aggressively in the next few weeks,” Caroline said. “Needless to say, Kirsty’s fashion show will now be the headline event and everything will revolve around it.” She glanced at her notes. “The show will take place on the last weekend of the market. That’s the Saturday before Christmas.”
Kirsty felt a flush of pure joy. One minute she had no money for advertising and the next the town was going to pay for it. Then Lake stood up.
“As half of the ‘tarty’ in ‘InverTARTY’,” he said in that lazy drawl of his, “I think it’s only fair that all of the lingerie shops in town get to take part in the fashion show.”
Caroline’s cheeks turned pink as she realised she’d let the cat out of the bag.
“No,” shouted Kirsty. “It’s my show.”
She shot to her feet beside Lake and appealed to the room.
“I planned it. I’ve been working on it and it wouldn’t be fair for Lake to take part. He can do his own thing.”
There weren’t as many nodding heads as she would have liked.
“Well,” he said with a smile, “I planned an opening, I paid for it and I worked on it, but that didn’t stop you elbowing in—did it?”
“That’s not the same thing and you know it,” she told him.