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“Okay, old woman, what did you do?” Lake said, his stomach sinking with the words.
She stuck her nose in the air and made a humphing noise.
“I declared war,” she said primly.
Lake let the curtain fall.
“No. I declared war.”
“That you did, and it was such a piss-poor job I had to do it again. You don’t want a war. All you want is to make googly eyes at the enemy. I saw you last night. Your mind wasn’t on attack. It was on getting your hands on Kirsty. You were teaching her to fight. What the heck is that about? You clearly have no idea what a real war is. So I started one. If you want something done right, get a woman.”
Lake ran a hand over his head. He couldn’t argue. His decision to teach Kirsty how to fight was spontaneous. It had less to do with their war and more to do with getting his hands on her. That and the fact he’d rather see the passionate Kirsty from the paper than the scared one that didn’t know what to do with herself. Unfortunately, Betty was right. It was no way to run a war.
“How exactly did you declare war?” Lake demanded.
He suspected he’d have been a lot more intimidating if he was wearing more than a towel. Rainne sat on the edge of the couch and glared at Betty. It would have been more effective if there weren’t tears in her eyes.
“When I was getting the pies,” Betty said tightly, “I might have mentioned to Morag McKay that Kirsty had started selling edible knickers and sex toys.”
Rainne shot to her feet.
“She has not!”
“I know that,” Betty said. “But Morag has been itching for a reason to stage a protest. There hasn’t been anything to complain about since Agnes Stewart changed the glass in her bathroom window.” She turned to Lake. “The glass she had was supposed to be frosted, but on a dark night you could see Agnes clear as day when she got out of the shower. The Boy Scout hut is over the road; they were charging a pound a time to have a look. It was a great fundraiser until the vicar shut it down.”
Lake pinched the bridge of his nose.
“She’s protesting?” he said.
Betty nodded. She was the image of an evil Yoda.
“Morag heads up the Society for Public Morality. Started it in the ‘60s when she couldn’t get any of that free sex and went bitter. They’re going to try to shut Kirsty down. They might do it and all. We’ll need to see.”
“That is...” Rainne couldn’t seem to find a word that she considered awful enough. “Terrible,” she said at last. “You”—she pointed at Betty—”are plain mean.”
“Smart, too,” Betty said with a chuckle.
Lake pulled back the curtain again. The little group was marching up and down now. The banners said things like “Keep Invertary Smut Free”, “No Sex Here” and “Take Your Dirty Underwear To Glasgow”.
He let out a long, controlled breath. So much for a clean fight. He watched as all his hard work with Kirsty went down the drain.
Kirsty threw open the front door of her shop and glared at Morag McKay. Morag pursed her lips in a way that made you think she was trying to suck her whole face inside out in disgust.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Kirsty demanded.
“I have every right to be here,” Morag said, which didn’t answer the question at all and made Kirsty want to smack her.
“That’s not what I asked, Morag. I asked what the heck you think you’re doing picketing my shop?”
Morag sniffed the air for that rotten smell that always seemed to follow her around.
“We don’t want the likes of you bringing down the tone of the place,” she said.
Kirsty clenched her fists. She could actually see tiny stars floating in front of her eyes. It either meant she was heading for a migraine or she wasn’t on the planet any more.
“The likes of me?” She took a step towards the older woman. “The likes of me?” she said again, and listened to the words rise in pitch. “You mean a successful businesswoman who brings money and jobs into town? You mean someone who grew up in Invertary and who has friends and family here? Or do you mean the ex-lingerie model who can take you in a fight?”
She pushed up the sleeves on her rust-coloured sweater, for once unconcerned about the white scar that wound around her right arm. Morag’s eyes widened.
