Runaway Actress (25 page)

‘But what about you?’ Maggie said.

‘What about me?’

‘
You
made the break –
you’re
here!’

‘That’s different,’ Alastair said.

‘How?’

‘I’m not an actor. I’m just a playwright. I can settle anywhere.’

Maggie pouted. ‘But you were as famous as any actor.’

‘What do you mean?’ Alastair asked, suddenly anxious that Maggie might know more about him than he’d ever let on.

‘Don’t you miss London?’

‘No, I don’t,’ he said.

‘Then Connie might not miss Hollywood,’ Maggie said proudly, as if she’d just made the greatest discovery ever.

‘Actors are different.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Maggie said. ‘She’s just a woman underneath all the glamour. She wants the same things we do.’

Alastair looked closely at Maggie. ‘You think?’

Maggie nodded. ‘I’m sure of it.’ She looked across the bar to where Connie was sitting with Bob, a new drink in her hand. ‘She’s lonely,’ she said, ‘and she’s been let down. That’s why she came here – to be with real people, not people like him. She wanted to be somewhere where people just treat her normally.’

‘And you do that, do you?’ Alastair asked her with a chuckle.

Maggie blushed. ‘I might’ve been a bit star-struck at first.’

‘A bit?’ Alastair teased.

‘What?’ Maggie said.

‘I thought you’d have Connie locked away in the fan club HQ by now, charging admission for the privilege of seeing her.’

‘Och, you do talk some rubbish, Alastair McInnes.’

‘What’s that saying?’

‘What saying?’

‘About freeing something?’ Alastair paused. ‘
If you love something, set it free
. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘I hate that saying,’ Maggie said. ‘If I love something, I want to keep it right by me. I want to cuddle it and hold it and never let it go.’

Alastair grinned at her. ‘You can’t do that, Maggie.’

Maggie sighed. ‘I know.’ And they both gazed over to where Connie was sitting, each of them knowing that she was slipping away from them.

‘Look, kid,’ Bob said with a grin that Connie found most disturbing, ‘I know you need a break – we all do every now and again. But there comes a time when you have to come back. Think of it like
Roman Holiday
. You know what I’m talking about?’

‘Of
course
I know,’ Connie said. ‘It’s one of my favourite films.’

‘Right. Well, Audrey Hepburn takes her break, don’t she? She goes mad, has an affair, does a lotta crazy things but—’ Bob held his hand up in the air, ‘she goes home. She becomes the princess again and takes up her responsibilities.’

‘And leaves the love of her life behind,’ Connie whispered to herself.

‘Look, you’re a good actress – the best. You know the true meaning of work.’

‘Do I?’

‘You always do your best and that shows.’

‘Not to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s got to be more to life, Bob.’

‘More than work? You’re kidding me, right?’

‘And I want to try and find it.’

Bob’s eyes narrowed. ‘Here? You want to try and find it here – is that what you’re saying?’

‘It might be.’

‘But you can’t exist outside of LA.’

‘No, Bob –
you
can’t exist outside of LA. I’m existing very well.’

Bob glared at her in undisguised horror. ‘Do you know who I’ve got clamouring for me to handle them? Do you?’

Connie sighed. She knew he’d turn nasty sooner or later. ‘I’m sure you’ve got half of Hollywood clamouring for your services,’ she said.

‘You’re damned right I have. So why do I waste my time on you?’

Connie didn’t bother to try and answer him. It was best she let him get it all out of his system.

‘Do you know the strings I pulled to get you that part in
The Pirate’s Wife
? Do you know who they wanted for that role? You weren’t even on their long list.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she’d never asked for the role in the first place but it wouldn’t do her any good.

‘And what’s going to happen now? What about your acting?’

‘I’m going to be acting here,’ Connie said quietly.

‘What do you mean? The new Tod Fordham film? I thought that was shooting in London.’

‘No, not the new Fordham film. I mean
here
, in Lochnabrae.’

‘On location?’

‘No. In the village hall. Shakespeare.’

Bob’s face fell. ‘You mean amateur dramatics?’

Connie nodded with glee. ‘Why not?’

That was the last thing Bob wanted to hear and Connie watched as his face turned at least four shades darker than usual. ‘You can’t stay here, Connie! I’m telling you that right now,’ he said, his voice mean and menacing.

For one dreadful moment, Connie thought he was going to physically attack her. ‘Are you threatening me, Bob?’ her voice rose an octave and the whole pub heard her words and, before either of them had a chance to say anything else, the great bulk of Euan Kennedy was shadowing their table.

‘Is this man bothering you, lass?’

Connie looked up. So did Bob.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Bob demanded.

‘I’m Euan,’ Euan said, seeming puzzled that anyone wouldn’t know who he was.

‘Well, this is a private conversation,’ Bob said.

‘Not when the whole pub can hear it,’ Euan said, which made Connie smile. ‘We don’t like shouting here. Especially where women are concerned.’

‘God almighty!’ Bob seethed through clenched teeth.

‘Perhaps you should leave,’ Euan suggested, looking at Bob rather than Connie.

Bob hesitated. He obviously didn’t want to be seen to back down so easily. ‘I’m not standing for this,’ he said, immediately standing up, which also made Connie smile. ‘Come on, Connie. Let’s finish this somewhere else.’

Connie didn’t move.

‘Connie,’ Bob shouted.

She took a deep breath. ‘I think we’ve finished already,’ she said.

The whole pub fell silent.

‘Fine,’ Bob said. ‘If that’s the way you want it. But this isn’t it, Connie,’ Bob said. ‘You’ve not heard the last of this.’ Bob looked at her a moment longer as if trying to work her out. ‘You’ve let me down, Connie,’ he said and then he stalked out of the pub.

Connie’s head sank down onto her folded arms.

‘Don’t take it to heart, lass,’ Euan said, sitting in the seat vacated by Bob. ‘He’s gone now.’

‘I wish he’d never come,’ Connie mumbled without looking up.

‘At least you’ve said your piece now. You’ve made it clear what you want,’ Euan said.

‘Have I?’ Connie said, looking up. ‘Then why do I feel so nervous about it? Why do I feel like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life?’

Euan looked at her and his eyes were warm and understanding. ‘Because change can be scary,’ he said. ‘What you’ve just done was a very brave thing.’

‘It certainly was,’ Sandy said, pulling up a chair and joining their table. ‘He needed putting in his place.’

‘You were amazing, Connie!’ Maggie said a moment later. ‘Really amazing. A real heroine!’

Connie smiled weakly, pleased to have their praise when she was feeling so low.

‘If Euan hadn’t broken things up, I was going to throw him out of The Bird myself,’ Hamish said. ‘Nobody should speak to our Connie like that.’

‘Do you think he’ll stay?’ Alastair asked.

‘I hope not,’ Connie said. ‘I expect he’s packing.’

‘Good riddance,’ Angus said. ‘Although I should’ve liked to have told him my idea for a new type of western.’

Everyone groaned, but Connie laughed. ‘You’re all so wonderful,’ she said. ‘What would I have done without you?’

‘Probably caved in and gone back to Hollywood with that creep,’ Maggie said with a wink.

‘Oh, no,’ Connie said. ‘I’d never have done that.’

‘So, you’re staying?’ Alastair asked, not bothering to disguise the smile that was so evident in his voice.

‘If you’ll have me,’ she said.

‘Aye, we’ll have you!’ Hamish said.

But Connie wasn’t looking at Hamish. She was looking at Alastair and the look that passed between them made a very strong case for Connie staying in Lochnabrae just a little bit longer.

Connie was right about Bob Braskett. He’d left that very evening, throwing a wad of cash at Isla and waiting for his taxi further along the road to Strathcorrie in his attempt to avoid any more of Connie’s bodyguards.

‘I threw him out!’ Isla said dramatically when Connie returned from the pub. ‘I told him exactly what I thought of him. “You can’t go around treating people like that”, I said. “And certainly not someone like Connie”.’ Isla stood with her arms folded across her puffed-up chest.

They went upstairs together and Connie checked Bob’s room as if she didn’t quite believe he’d gone.

‘Was he really here at all?’ she asked.

‘Oh, aye,’ Isla said. ‘There are towels all over the floor and the loo seat’s up.’

When Maggie awoke the next morning, she felt like a prisoner just out of jail. Since the arrival of Connie’s agent, she’d been holding her breath, terrified that she was going to lose her idol after such a short time, but that wasn’t going to happen now and she wasn’t going to listen to Alastair’s warnings about her going at some point in the future. She was here now and that’s all that mattered.

Opening the shop that day, Maggie was in such a good mood that she even welcomed Mrs Wallace with a smile.

‘And how are you?’ she asked. ‘Is your cold any better?’

Mrs Wallace stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. ‘Oh, my cold,’ she suddenly said, ‘it’s just a light one.’ And she gave a little sniff.

Maggie thought nothing of it. Until later that morning.

With the first read-through of
Twelfth Night
taking place that evening, Connie was becoming more and more nervous. Maggie had already told her the basic plot but it was the language of the play Connie was worrying about, and that’s why she was going to do some more preparation with Maggie first.

When Connie entered the shop later that morning, Maggie flew across the room and flung her arms around her.

‘What was that for?’ Connie asked once Maggie had released her from her stranglehold.

‘For staying,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

‘And I’m glad to be here,’ Connie said.

‘And you’re not going, are you?’ Maggie said.

‘Well, not just yet,’ Connie said.

Maggie nodded, knowing that that was the best answer she could hope for at the moment.

‘How’s about we get down to a bit of Shakespeare?’ Connie said and Maggie nodded, producing their two copies from behind the counter.

‘I’ll make a cup of tea first,’ Maggie said.

‘Let me,’ Connie said and went into the back room.

As soon as Connie disappeared, the shop bell tinkled and in walked Colin Simpkins.

‘Good morning, Maggie,’ he said.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Maggie said.

‘A lovely welcome – as ever.’

Maggie tutted. Ever since Colin Simpkins had planted a slobbery kiss on her at one of the high school end of year dances, she’d done her best to avoid him.

‘What do you want?’

Colin walked up to the counter and leant on it. ‘I’m looking for someone, actually.’

‘Oh, Desperate Dates dot com not work out for you, then?’

‘Not that kind of someone,’ Colin said, smoothing a hand through his oily hair. ‘Someone famous, actually.’

Maggie was instantly on her guard. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean, Maggie.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ Maggie said, busying herself with unpacking cigarette cartons and all too aware that Connie could surface from the kitchen at any moment.

‘There’s been a report that Connie Gordon’s in town,’ Colin said.

‘A report?’

‘From a reliable source,’ Colin said. ‘A
very
reliable source.’

Maggie gasped inwardly. She knew exactly who the report had come from: Mrs Wallace. She’d not had a cold at all, had she? She’d stayed at home yesterday so she could ring the local paper and tell them that Connie Gordon was in Lochnabrae. But why? Why would she do that when Connie had been so sweet to her? But Maggie knew why. Mrs Wallace wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to inflate her own self-importance. She could just imagine the story now.

‘Connie knew she could come to me in her time of trouble and I was very happy to help her.’

There’d be no mention of sewing machines swapped for expensive bottles of whisky. Oh, no. Mrs Wallace would twist the truth and make it sound like she was the movie star’s confidante, and scare Connie off in the process.

Maggie was seething but she couldn’t let Colin see her like that.

‘So, you’re going to help me, Maggie?’

Maggie thought quickly and walked towards the doorway on the pretence of putting something in the bin.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said. ‘Do you really think Connie Gordon,’ she said, raising her voice as much as she could without being too obvious, ‘would be here in Lochnabrae? The idea’s ludicrous.’

‘You think so?’ Colin said, edging forward and looking in the same direction as Maggie. ‘You wouldn’t be hiding her here, then, Maggie? She wouldn’t be staying at Isla’s B&B, then?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Get out of my shop!’ Maggie said, pushing him from behind the counter.

‘All right then,’ Colin said. ‘Have it your own way, Maggie Hamill.’

‘I will,’ she said.

‘But I’ll find her – mark my words.’

Maggie slammed the door in his face and turned the sign around to ‘closed’.

‘Has he gone?’ Connie asked, her head popping around from the kitchen.

‘Get back!’ Maggie hissed, hastening across the shop towards her. ‘You heard, then?’

Connie nodded. ‘How did he find out I was here?’

‘I’m guessing Mrs Wallace,’ Maggie said.

‘Really? But what would she gain from it?’

‘Are you kidding? She’d do anything for her name in the paper.’

‘But why didn’t she ring a national? She could’ve been paid for the story then.’

‘I don’t think it’s about the money. The local paper’s more her style. It’s the one everyone reads.’