Just a Fan (40 page)

I bit my lip worriedly, a thought coming to me. I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that I seemed to be distracting him slightly from his work...he usually got so many more films and promotional guest appearances done, but here he was idling his time away with
me
in a completely different part of the world. I knew perfectly well that everybody needed a holiday at
some
point, but at the same time I began to feel concerned about his career. I hadn't forgotten how many devoted fans he had...if I was still one of them, I would be devastated if Connor gradually started fading away. And if they knew that
I
was the cause of it, they would
all
hate me - even more so if they ever found out that their favourite actor had disappeared from the public's view and gotten
married
.

I couldn't be so selfish...I firmly decided that the moment I got back home, I would tell Connor right out that I loved all the time we were spending together and would still happily marry him, but thought that maybe he should be more careful about his job - after our wedding especially - in case he neglected it.

Feeling much better and far more decisive now this had come to light, I let the car roll smoothly over a short dip in the road. Maybe I should start heading back now, as the sooner I got this said the better...

I frowned to myself. Something was bothering me.

Had I come from the left fork in the road or the right? I hadn't been paying attention to it at the time, since I was so wrapped up by the easy handling of the car and by thoughts of Connor. I immediately began to regret that. Oh, God...if only I hadn't been distracted by all the beautiful mountains and my own thoughts - then I would know for sure which way I had come from!

Slowing down then turning the car around on the deserted road, I started back the way I came. Surely there were some familiar landmarks around...signposts, maybe?

I arrived at the fork in the road, completely uncertain which way I had come from. I decided to take a gamble and choose the left one...after all, if I didn't recognise anything down that road I could always go back again...

Just about managing to supress my momentary panic at the possibility of being lost, I carried on along the flat expanse of clear road, hoping that I'd be able to -

Suddenly, a big blob of white in the middle of the road caught my attention.

'
Whoa
!'

I swerved sharply to avoid it, missing it by inches, and skidded clean off the road, rattling noisily over the stones and short grass. In that moment of wild confusion, I turned the steering wheel frantically, but was unable to keep the car from running straight into a part of grassy ground that instantly gave under the front tyres. The whole car juddered to a halt, and I almost smashed my nose against the wheel.

'Oh, great.' I took a deep breath, trying to calm down my racing heart, and put the car into reverse gear. I put a foot down on the accelerator...and nothing happened. Just a horrible, useless whirring sound.

I was stuck.

'Crap, crap,
crap
,' I hissed, slamming my foot down with more force, as if that would help the front wheels gain purchase on the ground. When after a whole minute of trying nothing happened, I cursed and opened the door, getting out to see if I could -

'Argh!'

The moment I stepped out of the car, I sank shin-deep in cold, thick mud. Startled and disgusted, I groaned and waded out of it, struggling up the small slippery slope and onto the bank. It seemed I had driven right into some sort of peat bog, so thickly covered by grassy stalks that I had not realised it at first. There was no way I could pull the car out of
that
...the front tyres had almost completely sunk into the sticky mud, and I would have to be some kind of female bodybuilder to be able to haul them free.

On top of all that, from the knees downward my jeans were brown with mud, and my shoes were filled with watery earth that reeked of rotting vegetation. With a grimace, I pulled them off, turning them upside-down to spill the worst of it out. This was
not
my day...

I looked around myself, scanning my surroundings for someone to help me. As I had feared, all I could see was broad, bare mountains and wild marshland, inhabited only by birds and deer.

'Crap...' I growled again, squishing my way up to the road in my soggy socks. 'Tourists! Where are you when I need you?' Not a single car was in sight; the area was completely deserted.

Well, not
completely
completely deserted...

Frowning angrily, I marched up to the stupid, brainless sheep that had deemed it proper to take a nap in the middle of the road. It looked at me with slanted, amber eyes, its white-speckled black ears flicking around its curled horns.

'Baaa.'

I glared at the creature. 'How dare you make me run Connor's beautiful hired car into a horrible bog!' I ranted at it bitterly. 'I'm sure you have better places to sleep than in the middle of a
road
- look, you have thousands of acres of lush Scottish hillside to lie down on!'

It stared at me, white muzzle pointed up curiously, wondering if I had food for it.

'Of all the worst places to break down...' I grumbled angrily, casting a frustrated glance at the stuck car. 'God...my jeans are muddy, my shoes are soggy, and now I'm talking to a bloody
sheep
!'

'Baa.'

I sighed, a stirring breeze beginning to chill my feet. Hopelessly, I sat down on the road in front of the sheep, my head in my hands. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to girlfriends of movie stars - surely this fate was reserved for ordinary people? I had never heard of somebody whose new fiancé was a world-known actor getting stuck on the side of a deserted road because of some clueless
sheep
.

'Now where the hell can I find some help?' I wondered aloud, then looked at the animal, that was still staring at me blankly. 'You must belong to someone, mustn't you? A farmer, maybe?' I began to get hopeful. 'Yes, a strong, hardy farmer who can get the car out of that bog and help me get back home to Connor...'

The sheep gave me a look and then decided that I had no food and was therefore not worthy of its attention, getting up on its spindly black-and-white legs and ambling off. I frowned after it irritably.

'Why couldn't you have done that five minutes earlier?'

Chapter 26

Very Slightly Lost

I walked for a very, very long time. The more I walked, the more evident it became that I was perhaps very slightly lost. Even though the mountains and trees were still beautiful, the road seemed to stretch on endlessly, and a sweeping wind was beginning to freeze my soaking-wet lower legs, where the mud had now dried to an unpleasant crust. I was feeling increasingly desperate; what if night fell before I could find my way home, or find somebody else's home? I shuddered to think what wild animals crept out of the bogs and forests at night...

I wished Connor was here with me; he would know how to give me moral support and reassure me. But right now he was still at home, busy, with no way of knowing that I was in a bit of trouble...

Something cold landed on my nose, and, when I turned my face up, another fell directly onto my forehead. A few seconds later a few more raindrops spilled out of the sky, and before I knew it it was well and truly raining. Now feeling
very
bad-tempered and cold, I stomped my way resolutely along the empty road, my clothes becoming drenched and my hair plastered flat against my head most unattractively.

'Bloody Scotland with its bloody sheep and bloody bogs and
bloody
weather...' I grumbled under my breath. There was no shelter for at least a mile or two, and it was all I could do not to scream out with frustration and hopelessness.

As soon as I reached the top of a small crest in the road, feet burning with blisters, my heart sank as I realised that this was
not
the way back to Connor. Up ahead was a large lake, its surface shimmering with raindrops, which I had definitely
not
passed on my way down. I let out a strangled groan of despair and frustration, knowing that I had come all this way for absolutely nothing. I would have to turn around and walk all the way back if I wanted to get home again -

Then, over the hiss of the rain on the grass and trees, I heard the glorious sound of an engine.

A blue car was coming towards me along the road. Its headlamps, turned on to light the way through the storm-darkened valley, illuminated the raindrops that fell in sheets onto the ground. Its bonnet glistened with white spray, and I was relieved beyond words to find another living soul in this wild remote area.

I waved a hand, and the car slowed down, finally grinding to a halt next to me. The heat of the engine so close felt lovely and warm in contrast with my cold, rain-soaked skin. The driver wound down the window. He was a young man with short, fair hair, and looked mercifully sympathetic.

'D'ye need a ride, lass?' he asked over the hiss and rumble of rain, his voice less deep than Connor's but still with the same distinguishable accent.

'Oh - yes, please!' I replied earnestly, thankful I had come across an understanding soul who was well used to weather like this. The man smiled at me, opening the door for me to get in. It was certainly lovely to get out of the cold rain, but at the same time I felt very embarrassed about my muddy jeans and bog-soaked shoes - not to mention my soggy clothes. 'I'm sorry - I think I'm getting your nice car all wet and muddy,' I apologised in shame, but the man just laughed and shook his head.

'Ah, don't worry!' he countered kindly. ''I always get it muddy maself when I'm up here visitin'...' I noticed that although his accent was Scottish, his words sounded somehow more twangy and exaggerated than Connor's smooth burr that I was so used to. 'Where're ye aff tae, anyway?'

'Erm...I'm staying up at the Willow Cottage near here,' I told him, but he only frowned.

'
Willow
Cottage?' he repeated slowly, apparently hearing it for the first time. 'Na, I've no' heard of any Willow Cottage roond these parts...where's it by?'

I wracked my brains. 'It's near Loch Torridon...'

'Upper or Lower?'

I sighed. 'I have no idea.'

The man chewed his lower lip for a while, then said: 'I'm no' from roond here, see, but I've got some relatives in Shieldaig who might know where your Willow Cottage is.'

'Oh, really? Is it far? I mean - I wouldn't want -'

'It's just up ahead, don't worry yerself,' chuckled the man. 'I was just headed there anyway, it's no trouble. I live in Lanark, ye see, 'n' I sometimes come up here to visit, like today...'

I nodded, then thanked him for his kindness.

'Anytime, lass, anytime,' he answered, then after a while said to me: 'Ye don't sound like ye're from roond here...you English?'

'Yeah,' I told him. 'I'm on holiday too, with my boyfr-..fiancé.' I allowed myself an exhilirated little smile, and I noticed that the man was smiling too. 'I went on a drive and a sheep made me swerve right into a bog,' I added.

'Oh, dear,' he said. 'Tha's the trouble with these Highlands...ye get all sorts of animals walkin' all over the roads. Sheep, deer...an' of course, the occasional Highland coo.'

I thanked God that it had been a sheep in the road instead of a big hairy orange cow. I had seen postcards of them before, and I was uncertain whether I ever wanted to meet one.

'I'm Kenneth, by the way,' the man told me.

'Lillian.' I replied. The man, Kenneth, smiled, and as the rain lashed the car while it travelled along the winding road, I sincerely hoped that the heaters weren't making me stink of bog vegetation...

This wasn't good - Kenneth and I had just arrived at the little village of Shieldaig, and after I had been introduced to his aging aunt, it turned out that nobody in their house had heard of the Willow Cottage.

'Theer's a fair few wee cottages roond here, but I don't know their names...' Kenneth's aunt, Mrs Boylan, told me regretfully. I looked down dejectedly into the cup of tea she had very generously made for me, trying to quell the dreadful rise of panic.

'Oh...'

Mrs Boylan looked sympathetic. 'Are ye stayin' with anyone, lass?'

'Yes, my boyf-...fiancé,' I replied, nearly forgetting our new, exciting relationship status again.

'Ye've been gone a while, I hear - puir lad'll be worried sick,' Mrs Boylan remarked.

'Maybe he'll have gone searchin'...' Kenneth supplied, then cast a concerned look through the darkened window. 'Ye said ye're on holiday, Lillian? If yer man's gone out lookin' for ye in this gloom, chances are he'll get lost too. This corner o' the Highlands is pretty rough, especially for some of the English holidaymakers that come here...'

'Oh - he's not English, though, he's from Glasgow,' I corrected him. 'And he comes here often, so he should be fine...' I cast a worried glance at the impenetrable darkness outside anyway, trying to reassure myself as well as them...but then I remembered he no longer had a car, and I sincerely hoped he hadn't gone out on foot to find me...

After a short moment of reflection, Mrs Boylan said: 'Did ye no' mention this cottage of yours is close to Torridon, the village? If tha's so, then I'm sure there's someone there who deals with the holiday homes and knows what cottage we're talking aboot...Kenny, can ye get the phone, please?'

'I'll call them, I think I've got a number here...' Kenneth said, going over to the phone on the sideboard as he rummaged in his pockets. Eventually he drew out what looked like a much-folded touristic leaflet, and scrutinised the contact numbers at the back. 'Aha...theer's an information thingie here...' He began to dial in the number, and as he did so, he asked: 'What's yer fiancé's name again?'

'Connor...Connor MacGowan,' I told him, and he immediately stopped what he was doing, eyes wide as saucers. For a few seconds he stared in surprise, then gave a little incredulous laugh.

'No...ye don't mean
Connor MacGowan
as in the tall guy who plays Steele in Heyday?' Kenneth said.

My single, deliberate nod made him gasp.

'Oh, God...oh, this is so
crazy
!' he laughed, sounding shocked. 'Connor MacGowan...he's
here
, in
Torridon
? And...I'm talkin' to his
fiancée
?'

'Is he famous, then, this MacGowan?' enquired Mrs Boylan, sounding rather lost. Kenneth gave her an exasperated look.

'Of
course
he's famous!' he replied. 'I know ye've seen him - he's in tha' Esquire film ye said ye watched...the guy with the slicked-back hair.'

Mrs Boylan's wrinkled eyes widened abruptly, and her mouth became a perfect 'O' of surprise.

'No...'

'Aye!'

She turned a wondering gaze to me. I was beginning to flush a little, half of me sharing their startled excitement while the other, more sensible half felt very shy.

'What a lucky young lass ye are...engaged to such a charmin' an' brilliant actor...' she said, with open admiration.

'I still can't get over it myself,' I replied with bashful sincerity.

'Oh, God, oh, God...' Kenneth was murmuring excitedly, dialling the number in with visibly shaking hands. 'I can't
believe
this...Hello? Hi, there - I'd like to enquire about a cottage near you...the Willow Cottage? There's a man stayin' there that I need to get through to...'

Mrs Boylan and I sat in silence, listening while Kenneth talked to the person on the other end. I began to feel ominously disheartened as I saw his face fall, his lips pursing and brow furrowing in disappointment and consternation.

'Is tha' right?' he said. 'He's borrowed a...? Well...don't you have his mobile number, or something? Because we've got her right here, and she's fine, he'll need to know tha'...' He chewed his lip again. 'When d'ye suppose he'll be back?' Another grimace. 'Well, I guess he'll have to drop by at number twenty-five in Shieldaig...I'm no' tha' much of a brilliant driver, especially not on these roads at night. OK, thanks...'

We both looked at him expectantly as he hung up, then turned to face us.

'Right,' he said, taking a deep breath. 'The guy said he knows the cottage, and has the number and everything, but Mr MacGowan's been gone for a while. He said that he'd dropped by the village to say ye were missing, and to ask them to keep an eye out if ye came back. Then apparently he went off in a car one of the people lent him, 'n' he won't be back for some time, probably.'

I sighed, a horrible, roiling sensation of fear and worry writhing in the pit of my stomach as I cast another look out of the black window.

'But the guy said that when he came back, he'd give him a ring and tell him to come by,' Kenneth went on hurriedly, wanting to reassure me. 'I'm sorry that I can't take ye to the cottage maself...I'm not tha' great in the dark, an' some o' these roads have no lights. Wouldn't want a second crash into a bog, eh?'

I tried to smile. 'It's fine...' I assured him. 'He'll probably be back soon, anyway...'

But he wasn't. After two more cups of tea and a lengthy, rambling chat around the rickety old table in the stone house's main room, there was still no call on the phone to tell us that Connor was on his way. I felt shivery and slightly afraid; what if something had happened to him? What if he had gotten lost or had some dreadful accident on these dark, unlit mountain roads? What if, after having to spend the night in a different house, I was eventually taken back to the cottage only to find him still gone? Then what would I do?