Lingerie Wars (Invertary 1)

The twins exchanged a look. They hadn’t thought of that.

Kirsty tried not to smile.

“It’s not fair.” Megan said. “Everyone else gets to have fun and we have to make doughnuts. We’ll never get that greasy smell out of our hair.”

“I hope that isn’t your sales pitch,” Kirsty said.

They stared at her blankly.

“It really sucks, Kirsty,” Claire said. “We apologised to Mrs Baxter and everything. We are awfully sorry about the sheep.”

They shared a look where they tried not to grin.

“They were pretty, though,” Claire said. “Sheep should be pink.”

Kirsty rolled her eyes and wondered what it would take for these two to learn a lesson. Kirsty left them to it. She waved goodbye to the carol singers, who, for some reason, were now singing a Michael Bublé song. She shook her head. If the vicar heard that, he’d whack them with his stick. When she pushed through the shop door, she found Magenta looking even paler than usual.

“I’m so nervous,” Magenta told her. “I might pee myself.”

“Delightful,” Kirsty said.

She picked up the last few items that she needed to take with her to the fashion show. Apart from Magenta, everyone else was already in their designated caravan getting ready. Kirsty and Magenta had popped back to pick up some things, but she’d been calling her mum every ten minutes to check on everyone. Her mum sounded fit to burst with excitement and had announced during their last call that Helena was teaching all the amateur girls how to walk better on the runway.

“Are you nervous?” Magenta asked as they locked the door behind them.

“Well, I don’t need to pee, if that’s what you mean.”

They fought their way through the crowded market and down to the loch. The place was buzzing and every second person wanted to wish her well.

“Have some tablet,” said Mrs Kirk as they passed her stall. “A little sugar will keep you going.”

Kirsty took the bag gratefully; she’d never needed a reason to eat her favourite sweetie.

“We’re all rooting for you,” Mrs Kirk said. She eyed Kirsty speculatively. “I’m sure you’re going to kick that man’s behind. Although, he said if we voted for him we’d get an extra ten percent off after the show.”

Kirsty’s eyes narrowed.

“Did he, now?”

“You wouldn’t be doing anything like that, would you?” Mrs Kirk said hopefully.

“You mean like bribing the voting public?” Kirsty said.

Mrs Kirk flushed.

“No, I don’t suppose I would,” Kirsty told her.

They carried on towards the marquee.

“The gall of the man,” Kirsty told Magenta. “Bribing people to vote for him.”

“You wish you’d thought of it, don’t you?” Magenta said with a cheeky grin.

Kirsty didn’t answer her. Dougal waved them over as they passed the marquee on their way to the caravans at the back of it. He had on a green tartan waistcoat, a green tartan bow tie, black trousers and a gold lamé shirt.

“I hope you girls are on top of things,” he said. “There’s going to be standing room only. Your mum is doing a rare trade in renting out blankets.”

“We’re all set,” Kirsty told him. “Everything is under control.”