Runaway Actress (6 page)

She was just looking out across the sheeny water when her mobile beeped. Service! She took it out of her pocket. There hadn’t been any service in the village but there seemed to be a signal at this side of the loch and it appeared that Connie had a heap of messages waiting for her. She sighed. She really should have left her mobile at home or at least in the B&B. For a moment, she deliberated throwing it in the loch but her curiosity got the better of her and she took it out of her jacket pocket. The first message was from her agent.

‘Connie! Where the hell are you? Samantha told me some crap about you taking a vacation? Are you out of your mind? You can’t do this to me. Don’t you realise you have commitments here? I need you to come back—’

Connie deleted the message before getting to the end of it. The next one was from Samantha.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, Connie, but Bob’s been on the phone constantly. I told him you were away but he won’t believe me. You’ve got to call him.’

Connie deleted it, and several more irate messages from Bob and anxious messages from Samantha.

The final message was from Forrest Greaves.

‘Babe! Where are you? I can’t stop thinking about you. You looked so
hot
in that dress at the awards. Give me a call. You know you want to.’

‘Oooo! What a slime ball!’ Connie said, switching her mobile off and stuffing it into her pocket. She still couldn’t believe that she’d fallen for his smarmy charm.

Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone? Couldn’t she just have some time and space to call her own? She got up from the boulder and dusted down the bottom of her pristine trousers. She deserved a break, didn’t she? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken one. She stormed across the beach towards a nearby wood, feeling her stress level soaring. Why did there have to go and be a mobile signal?

Get rid of it
, a little voice inside her said.
Go on!

‘Right,’ she said, doing an about-turn and heading back to the loch, reaching in her pocket for the intrusive instrument. Taking a deep breath, she stretched her arm back and then flung it as far as she could into the silvery depths of the loch.

It was then that she heard a strange sound. Turning around, she saw a black dog hurtling towards her, its legs and belly covered in thick brown mud.

‘WOOF! WOOF!’ it barked, its great paws eating up the ground as it hurtled full on into the water.

‘What the?’ Connie stared, watching it as it swam out into the loch.

‘BOUNCE!’ a voice called and Connie turned, seeing a dark-haired man emerging from the woods and striding across the sandy shore towards her. ‘Come here, Bounce!’

Connie watched, spellbound as the dog swam on towards the centre of the loch and, only after the man had called his name again, turned and headed back to the shore.

‘
Here
, Bounce!’ the man yelled but the dog didn’t seem to be listening to him and, as soon as it emerged from the water, it took a few leaps towards Connie and only then did it shake the loch water from its coat.

Connie screamed as the icy, muddy water cascaded over her, splattering her pale outfit.

‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘No!’ But the dog didn’t seem to understand. In fact, her response only seemed to excite it more and it began leaping towards her, its puppy paws bouncing off the legs of her trousers until they were more black than blue.

Connie flailed her arms about as she tried to shoo the dog away. She’d only ever worked with well-trained animals on film sets and had no idea how to control such a furry ball of frantic energy.

‘BOUNCE!’ the man yelled, running towards the dog and pulling him away, making the dog sit at a safe distance. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

Connie looked up, her eyes full of embarrassed fury. Her cheeks were blazing with shock and humiliation. ‘What … Who … Look at the state of my clothes! I’m a mess! That dog is … is out of control!’

The man’s dark eyebrows drew together. ‘I said I was sorry. I couldn’t stop him in time. He’s just a puppy.’

‘He should be on a lead if you can’t take charge of him,’ Connie snapped.

‘You can’t keep a young dog on a lead.’

‘Well, you should’ve stopped him!’

‘He saw you throw something into the loch. He’s a Labrador. They like to retrieve things. He didn’t mean any harm. He was just doing what comes naturally to him.’

‘I’ve heard that line from men before,’ Connie said, ‘and it’s no excuse for bad behaviour! Just look at my trousers. They’re ruined.’

‘I’ll pay for them to be dry-cleaned,’ the man said.

‘They’re not just dirty. The material’s snagged. They’ve been tugged and clawed—’

‘Look!’ the man said, sounding impatient now, ‘I said I was sorry but if you’re going to wear unsuitable clothes when you go hiking, you’re asking for trouble.’

‘Oh, so it’s my fault now, is it?’

‘I’m just saying, you should be wearing something a little more practical.’

‘And when did I ask for your advice?’ Connie asked, glaring at him and noticing a pair of blindingly blue eyes. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life and hated the thought of this stranger seeing her in such a state. ‘I’ve got to get back,’ she said. ‘Don’t let the dog come near me again!’

Connie pushed past the man and made her way – as dignified as was possible in the circumstances – towards the village in search of a pair of trousers with slightly fewer paw prints on them.

Alastair watched in amazement as the red-headed woman stomped off in the direction of Lochnabrae, her trouser legs splattered and stained.

‘What were you thinking of, Bounce?’ he asked, bending down and tickling him behind his sopping head. Bounce looked up at his master with big brown uncomprehending eyes. ‘That is no way to introduce me to a lady! No way at all.’ Bounce rolled onto his back presenting Alastair with a muddy wet belly. ‘I’m not tickling that, mate,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ As soon as Alastair stood back up to full height, Bounce sprang up too, running back into the shallows of the loch and splashing himself all over.

Alastair turned and watched the receding figure of the woman. There’d been something oddly familiar about her but he couldn’t think what. He was quite sure he’d never met her before; he would’ve remembered somebody that rude. But there was a quality about her that he felt sure he recognised. And then it clicked.

‘Connie Gordon!’ he said, causing Bounce to turn and leg it towards him. ‘That’s it! She looks
just
like Connie Gordon.’

Maggie buzzed around the house like a bluebottle. Connie Gordon. Here in Lochnabrae! Was it because of her letters? Why hadn’t she written to tell her she was coming?

She flung herself into the shower and washed as quickly as she could and then she started to attack her hair. It was far from ideal having to apply a hairdryer to her fleece-like hair but she couldn’t meet Connie Gordon with unwashed hair, could she? And what was she going to wear? She thought of the sorry pairs of jeans in her wardrobe and the tired jumpers full of holes. There was the dress she’d worn to her cousin’s wedding but wouldn’t it be a bit odd to show up wearing that on a mid-week morning in Lochnabrae?

‘It’ll just have to be the cleanest and least holey things I can find,’ she said to herself, hanging her head upside down in an attempt to dry it before Christmas.

It was half an hour later by the time she got to Isla’s.

‘Where is she?’ Maggie said, breathless with excitement.

‘She’s gone,’ Isla said.

‘Gone! What do you mean,
gone?
’ Maggie looked around in panic.

‘She went out – a walk around the village,’ she said.

Maggie’s eyes widened in horror. ‘And you let her go? You had Connie Gordon here and you let her go?’

‘Well, what was I meant to do?’

‘Keep her here!’ Maggie cried. ‘At least until I got here. Oh, my! She could be anywhere. She might’ve escaped!’

‘Och! You’re getting carried away. She just wanted a breath of fresh air. She wouldn’t just leave. All her stuff’s upstairs.’

‘Stuff ?’

‘Suitcases. Three large ones. Goodness only knows what’s in them.’

Maggie’s mouth dropped open. ‘Can I see?’

‘Well, it’s not usual for me to show people my guest’s rooms,’ Isla said.

‘But it’s not usual for you to have a Hollywood movie star staying here, is it?’

Isla and Maggie’s eyes locked in mutual understanding. ‘Oh, all right then. just keep this between us, for goodness’ sake,’ she said, and the two of them hurried up the stairs together. ‘Did I tell you she touched me?’ Isla said. ‘She actually touched me! I’ll never wash this jumper again.’

‘Come on,’ Maggie said, anxious to get a look at the room before Connie returned.

Just as a formality, Isla knocked on the door. ‘She’s defi-nitely out,’ she said, unlocking the door with her landlady’s key.

‘Let us in then!’ Maggie said excitedly and, once Isla unlocked the door, the two of them entered the room.

Maggie gazed in wonder at the sight that greeted her. The bed had been left unmade and the dressing table was cluttered with all sorts of things: two great bulging make-up bags spilled lipsticks, mascaras and tubes of pale foundation. There were hairbrushes and perfume bottles too. Maggie dared to pick one up. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The bottle was an elegant teardrop shape in ridged glass that felt fabulous under her fingertips. Gently, she removed the golden stopper and sniffed.

‘It’s like heaven!’ she said, spraying herself in a cloud of Wishes. ‘So this is what a movie star smells like,’ she said to herself, inhaling deeply.

‘Maggie! Put that down! You shouldn’t touch those things.’

But Maggie couldn’t help herself. This was as close as she’d ever been to her idol and she was enjoying every single minute of it.

‘Look at this mirror,’ she said, picking up a silver hand mirror that gleamed in the bright light of the bedroom. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’ Maggie turned it over and saw a beautiful ‘C’ had been engraved on the back. ‘Oh!’

‘Maggie!’ Isla suddenly yelled. ‘Look at this!’

Isla had given into temptation and dared to peep inside one of the suitcases. Maggie gasped as she too saw the contents.

‘They’re evening dresses!’ Maggie said.

‘Where does she think she’s going to wear all these around here?’ Isla said, cooing as she touched the silky soft fabric of an ivory-white dress.

‘Would you look at that?’ Maggie said, pulling out a sapphire-blue gown trimmed with sparkling silver beads.

‘Don’t take it out,’ Isla all but screamed.

But Maggie couldn’t possibly leave it in the suitcase. It would be like showing a child a jar of sweets and telling it not to eat them.

The dark blue gown unravelled to the floor as Maggie held it up against her. ‘I LOVE it!’

Isla giggled and pulled out a velvet gown in a sumptuous amethyst. ‘Lordy lord!’ she said.

‘Oh, Isla!’ Maggie said, placing the sapphire-blue gown on the bed and reaching out for the velvet. ‘I remember her wearing this one. It was at a premiere for
Keep Me Close
. She looked so beautiful – like one of those Pre-Raphaelite women with her hair all loose and curly.’

Soon, the bed was strewn with gowns. Golds, silvers, greens and blues, satins, laces and velvets. Maggie was almost jumping up and down with excitement and both women lost themselves in the moment, surrounded by the kinds of couture they’d only ever glimpsed in magazines.

‘Do you think I could try one on?’ Maggie asked, fingering a lacy gown in emerald-green.

‘Well, I don’t think you should,’ Isla said, trying to be stern.

Maggie’s face fell. To be so close to so many beautiful dresses and not to be allowed to try them on …

‘Oh, go on then!’ Isla suddenly said. ‘Just one!’

Maggie squealed and began disrobing quickly.

She’d just got down to her thermal undies when the front door slammed.

‘She’s back!’ Isla gasped.

Maggie’s eyes doubled in size. ‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Put the dresses away!’

Isla began stuffing the gowns back in the suitcase as Maggie hurriedly put her clothes back on, falling onto the bed as she dragged her jeans up her legs and causing a zip-rip of static as she pulled on her jumper.

‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Isla whispered and the two of them legged it onto the landing.

‘Where is she?’ Maggie said, relieved that they hadn’t been caught.

‘She must still be downstairs,’ Isla said, locking Connie’s bedroom door as quietly as she could.

The two of them crept down the stairs and, there by the door, stood Connie Gordon, examining her trousers with a defeated look on her face.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, looking up.

Isla nodded. Maggie just stared.

‘Are you all right?’ Isla asked. ‘Did you have a nice walk?’

‘Yes,’ Connie said. ‘Well, apart from the complete madman I met by the loch.’

Maggie and Isla looked at each other.

‘Angus?’ Isla said.

‘I didn’t ask his name,’ Connie said. ‘And he didn’t volunteer it. But he had a dog with him. A black one.’

Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘Bounce?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The dog’s name,’ Maggie said. ‘That’d be Alastair’s. Alastair’s your madman. Well, he’s a writer actually but that’s the same thing as a madman, isn’t it?’

‘You look like a Dalmatian,’ Isla said, gazing at Connie’s trousers.

‘I’ve got to get out of them. They’re sticking to my legs,’ Connie said.

Isla and Maggie were still standing at the foot of the stairs.

‘Can I get by?’ Connie asked.

‘Oh!’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘Sorry.’ She moved out of the way.

‘I’ll be down again in a minute then we can meet properly,’ Connie said with a smile, disappearing up the stairs.

‘Oh my God!’ Maggie whispered. ‘It’s really her, isn’t it?’ she said to Isla.

‘Well, I told you it was,’ Isla said. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? I mean, apart from those trousers.’

‘Do you think she’ll get them clean or just throw them away? Some stars do that, don’t they? If they get a speck of dirt on something or a little snag, they put it in the bin. Can I have them if she does?’ Maggie asked. ‘I wouldn’t mind if the mud never came out.’