Connie took a great breath. ‘I think so but it seems so strange that everyone’s so friendly. I mean – are they genuinely friendly or are they after something?’
‘After something? What do you mean?’ Isla asked, looking puzzled.
‘I mean, whenever people get close to me, I usually end up getting hurt. People pretend to be my friends and then – sooner or later – they sell me out.’
‘You mean to the papers?’
Connie nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And you think that’s going to happen here? With the people of Lochnabrae?’
‘I don’t know. How would I know?’
Isla looked genuinely hurt by this. ‘Because we all adore you!’ she said. ‘My goodness! We might not be the sharpest pins in the tin here but we know how to treat people and nobody – I swear nobody would ever even think to sell you out!’
Connie could feel herself blushing and felt ashamed for having doubted the people who had so far shown her nothing but kindness. ‘I’m sorry, Isla. It’s just – well – I’m so used to—’
‘You don’t have to explain, my dear. I read the papers. I see what goes on.’
They were silent for a moment and then Isla spoke.
‘Something else is worrying you, isn’t it?’
Connie sat looking down at the swirling carpet before speaking. ‘They want me to be in their play.’
‘The LADS?’
Connie nodded.
‘Well, that’s grand. That’s really grand,’ Isla said. ‘Only, will you be around that long? The play’s usually on at Christmas.’
‘I know,’ Connie said.
‘But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?’ Isla said, with the perception of someone who’d seen all sorts of people – and their problems – come and go over the years.
‘No,’ Connie said, looking up from the carpet. ‘It’s a play,’ she said.
‘Aye. It usually is.’
‘I mean, I’ve never done a play. I’ve only acted in films.’
‘Then it’ll be a new experience for you,’ Isla said but, on seeing Connie’s face, she added, ‘Oh. Is that not what you want?’
‘I don’t know what to say to them all,’ Connie said. ‘They all seemed so keen.’
‘Aye. The play’s the thing,’ Isla said. ‘Och, listen to me – “the play’s the thing”, indeed.’
‘What?’
‘That’s Shakespeare. From Hamlet, if I remember correctly.’
‘And it’s Shakespeare they’re doing too.’
‘Really? Not one of Alastair’s plays?’
‘No. Tenth Night.’
Isla looked puzzled. ‘You mean Twelfth Night.’
Connie sighed. ‘I don’t care if it’s Tenth or Twelfth, I’ve never read Shakespeare in my life.’
Isla’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘Never read—’
‘Not a word of it.’
‘But you’re an actress,’ Isla said.
‘I know but I’m a movie actress. I’ve never been on a proper stage – only that make-believe one in that film I did when I was a kid.’
‘I can’t believe you’ve never done Shakespeare,’ Isla said.
‘It’s never come up,’ Connie said. ‘My agent tends to steer me towards the popcorn movies. You know, he once told me that I’m not a thinking-man’s actress.’
Isla’s mouth dropped open. ‘He said that?’
Connie nodded. ‘I once asked him to look out for a more serious role for me. You know, something a little darker than the usual fluff that comes my way and he said, “Honey, that’s real cute of you but stick to the fluff. That’s your place”.’
Isla looked at Connie. ‘But that’s – that’s – so rude!’
Connie resumed staring at the carpet.
‘You don’t believe him, do you?’ Isla suddenly said. ‘Connie?’
Connie shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Because that’s not true. You’re not just some fluffy actress who can only do the lighter roles. Just look at that thriller you did – Keep Me Close. That certainly wasn’t light and fluffy. Gave me nightmares for a week after watching it, that one did.’
‘Sorry,’ Connie said.
‘That’s all right,’ Isla said. ‘Anyway, it proves that you’re a dead serious actress. And what about Just Jennifer and your Oscar nomination? What did that agent of yours have to say about that, then?’
‘He said, “Why didn’t you win? You’re a laughing stock. A complete laughing stock!”’
‘He said that?’
Connie nodded. ‘And more but I’m not going to repeat it.’
‘Why the … if he ever crosses my path, I’ll have a thing or two to say to him.’
Connie gave a little smile. ‘I should leave him.’
‘Yes, you should.’
‘It’s one of the reasons I came here. I was so fed up with the way things were. I mean, I love my work – don’t get me wrong – but it’s all the stuff that goes with it. Why can’t I just be an actress? Why do I have to put up with all the shit that goes with it?’ Connie cried. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swear—’
‘It’s all right. Shit is the only way to describe it,’ Isla said, which made Connie smile. ‘But don’t you see? This is your big opportunity.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Didn’t you just say you wanted to be an actress – without all the other shit – I mean business?’
‘Yes.’
‘And here’s your chance – with the LADS,’ Isla said, getting excited. ‘This could be your chance to prove that agent of yours wrong. To prove everybody wrong. To do nothing but act.’
‘The Shakespeare?’
‘Aye! Shakespeare’s the test of every good actress and you won’t have anyone judging you here.’
‘Are you sure?’ Connie said. ‘They all think I’m marvellous.’
‘And you are.’
‘But what if I let them down? What if I can’t do it?’
‘My dear, you’re failing yerself before you’ve even begun!’ Isla said, picking up Connie’s hands and squeezing them tightly. ‘Who says you won’t be marvellous? Perhaps even the greatest Shakespearean actress there’s ever been!’
Connie sighed. She couldn’t help feeling swept along by Isla’s enthusiasm but she still couldn’t banish the terror that appearing on stage held for her. She’d never acted on stage in her life. She’d always managed to avoid it. It was, perhaps, her greatest fear.
Chapter Fourteen
When Maggie got up the next morning, she was half-relieved and yet half-disappointed to discover that Hamish had already left. She hated it when they fought and had hoped that they’d be able to talk things through over breakfast together but that wasn’t to be.
‘Silly boy,’ she whispered. She was worried about him. He was always falling in love – not a bad thing in itself – but he would always pick the most impossible women with whom to do the falling. First, when he was just eight, there’d been the headmistress of their primary school, Miss Dalmeny. He’d written her little love notes and sneaked them into her handbag. The poor woman hadn’t known what to do and had informed their father, who’d given poor Hamish a good talking to. School had been a torture for Hamish after that because word had soon got around that he was in love with ‘Miss’ and the teasing had been unbearable.
Then there’d been Miss Frobisher, the cute art teacher at Strathcorrie High who’d discovered that Hamish’s first attempt at a nude sketch struck a frightening resemblance to her. The sketch in question went missing after that but Maggie had her suspicions that nasty Kevin Matthews had stolen it and sold it to the highest bidder.
Now, trouble was brewing with Connie Gordon. How silly could he be to fall in love with a movie star? How did he think that was going to pan out? Did he really think Connie could fall for a mechanic from the back of beyond? Why couldn’t Hamish fall in love with someone normal – someone he stood a chance of being able to date – like sweet Kirs
ty Kendrick who’d had a crush on him for more years than Maggie could remember? But Hamish paid Kirsty about as much attention as Mikey paid Maggie. Wasn’t that always the way with love? Love was a cosmic game of cruelty and Cupid’s arrows were almost always fired in the wrong direction.
Washing and dressing quickly, Maggie went down to the shop to open up and couldn’t help noticing the packets of Taste the Highlands shortbread. For a moment, she was tempted to scoop them all up and bin them but that would be wasteful and Maggie was anything but wasteful. So she just stuck her tongue out at them instead.
Connie woke up feeling peculiarly refreshed. She sat up in the double bed and yawned. Looking at the clock on her bedside table, she smiled. It was after eight in the morning. She flopped back down onto her pillow, safe in the knowledge that no personal trainer would be calling today and she didn’t have any rehearsals to rush off to or charity events to attend. This, she thought, was bliss. She should have done this months ago – years ago. Normal people took holidays.
But you’re not a normal person, a little voice told her.
‘But I want to be,’ she said.
Are you sure? Are you really sure you could step out of the limelight? It’s not in your nature to be ignored, the little voice told her.
‘I like being ignored fine,’ Connie said. ‘Besides, I’m hardly being ignored here.’
Connie could have sworn that the little voice sighed then.
And what would you do all day? it asked. If you stepped out of the limelight, what exactly would you step into?
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Connie said. ‘Let me enjoy myself.’
You’d be bored rigid in a place like this in no time.
‘No, I wouldn’t. There’s any number of things I could do.’
Like what? What do you think you could do in a dead-end place like Lochnabrae? There isn’t even a gym, for goodness’ sake. Or a shopping mall. Or – well – anything.
‘Shut up!’ Connie said, flinging the covers back and getting out of bed to escape the little voice.
It was true, she didn’t know what she was going to do in Lochnabrae yet. She didn’t know how long she was going to stay or what her plans were for the future. All she knew was that her life had to change. This was more than a little holiday – it was an opportunity to sort herself out and find some space. Decisions had to be made about her future because – right now – she wasn’t happy with the way things were.
Connie groaned as she thought about her latest project. It was called The Pirate’s Wife and was a big-budget piece of tat that her agent had signed her up for without even consulting her, and which she’d gone along with because she owed the producer a favour. She’d almost died when she’d got the script. Full of clichés, it was the worst thing she’d ever seen. An obvious Pirates of the Caribbean rip-off, it had stunk. It combined the very worst of several different genres: it was an adventure movie that didn’t have any thrills, it was a love story without any romance, and it was a comedy without any laughs. In short, it was the worst movie Connie had ever been associated with and she’d wanted out before it did any long-term damage to her career. Trouble was, she was under contract and there were probably a lot of people chasing her now including her agent, Bob Braskett.
Stepping into the shower, she did her best to wash away all thoughts of Bob Braskett and The Pirate’s Wife. They were far far away. She had a whole ocean separating her from them and she planned on them staying there.
Blow-drying her hair quickly and applying the lightest make-up, she stood before the wardrobe wondering what to wear. It didn’t look so bright out today. The sky was the colour of stainless steel and there were some heavy clouds hovering with intent above the mountains. Connie wasn’t used to such a depressing outlook and didn’t really have the clothes for it. She’d only brought a collection of dresses, skirts and light jackets that wouldn’t stand up to a shower let alone the full onslaught of the Scottish weather. Something would have to be done about that.
Choosing a pair of jeans and a pink and white checked shirt, Connie headed downstairs. Isla had set the table for breakfast and was on hand to make sure Connie had everything she needed.
‘How are you, my dear?’ she asked as Connie entered the dining room. ‘Feeling better after a good night’s sleep?’
Connie pulled a chair out at the table and sat down. ‘You know, I rather think I am, thank you.’
‘Good. And your complexion, if I may say, is looking bonnier than ever. Did you try the Benet’s Balm I left for you?’
‘Yes,’ Connie said. ‘Can you tell?’
‘Aye. It’s given you quite a glow.’
Connie smiled. She’d found a pot of the miraculous Benet’s Balm on her dressing table and had smeared her face in its primrose creaminess.
It was then that she noticed the tiny television set on in the corner of the room. It was the news and she blanched as she saw her own image flash up behind the newsreader.
‘Well, I never!’ Isla declared. ‘It’s you on the news!’ She moved with lightning speed to turn up the volume of the old set.
‘Hollywood actress, Connie Gordon, is still missing after walking out on her latest film The Pirate’s Wife. It’s been suggested that she had an argument with former lover, actor Forrest Greaves, who is now engaged to former model and actress, Candy Shore. Miss Gordon was last seen at an awards ceremony where she presented an award to Mr Greaves.’
‘Please turn it off, Isla!’
Isla did as she was bidden. ‘At least they don’t know where you are,’ she said.
‘Yet,’ Connie said. ‘They don’t know yet.’
‘Well, you mustn’t fret about it. You must enjoy your time here. So, tell me, what might you be doing with yerself today?’ Isla asked.
‘I was just wondering about that myself,’ Connie said. ‘I thought I’d call in and see Maggie.’ She took a sip of her fruit juice and looked up at Isla. ‘I have a feeling that we can help each other.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Isla said. ‘Be sure to keep me informed with all the gossip now, won’t you? We don’t get much of it in these parts.’
Connie sighed inwardly. Gossip, she thought, was the very thing she’d come to Lochnabrae to escape.
It was twenty minutes later when Connie stepped outside, a carrier bag swinging by her side. The sky had darkened and now resembled a gigantic bruise. Its darkness was reflected perfectly in the loch and Connie shivered. The mountains no longer looked protective but menacing and there was a bone-chilling wind hurtling along the main street. She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen – an omen that the world was closing in on her. The news report had shaken her and she couldn’t help feeling fearful that her whereabouts would be discovered sooner rather than later.
She could only hope that Isla was right and that the people of Lochnabrae could be trusted. They’d all been so warm and so welcoming, which was a strange experience for Connie because she had become so used to the bitchiness and backstabbing that went hand in hand with the world she inhabited. People were only friendly when they wanted something from you and it was hard to imagine that anyone could offer friendship for friendship’s sake.
Trying to put all thoughts of double-crossers and backstabbers out of her mind, Connie picked up her pace, reaching the shop and opening the door, the little bell announcing her arrival.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Shop open?’
Maggie popped up from behind the counter.
‘Connie! It’s you!’
‘Aye. I mean, yes. Jeez. If I stay here much longer I’m going to end up sounding like a local.’
Maggie grinned. ‘That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?’
‘It’s an occupational hazard. Actresses are pretty good at picking up accents.’
‘And the Scottish one would suit you too.’
‘You think?’ Connie said.
‘Aye. You have the look of a Scottish lass.’
‘Not surprising really. I mean, my mo
m’s from here. Did you know her?’ Connie asked.
‘No, I didn’t, I’m afraid, she left before my time,’ Maggie said, ‘but I’ve heard lots about her. She was an ambitious one, wasn’t she? Lochnabrae wasn’t for her.’
Connie shook her head. ‘She was drawn to the dazzle of Hollywood – as many are. But,’ she said with a sigh, ‘few make it.’
‘You made it.’
‘Yes,’ Connie said. ‘But there are many hundreds that didn’t because of me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie asked, putting down her duster.
‘The roles I’ve had,’ Connie said, ‘I’ve got them because dozens of other actresses didn’t.’
‘But that’s because you were the best for each role.’
‘Was I?’
‘’Course you were,’ Maggie said, moving out from behind the counter. ‘You’ve been perfect in all your roles.’
They were quiet for a moment.
‘What is it?’ Maggie asked.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Connie said. ‘I’m just having an insecure moment, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. I’m just being silly. Anyway, I came to give you this.’ She delved into the carrier bag she was holding and brought out a familiar-looking bear.
‘Mortimer!’ Maggie cried.
‘He’s yours,’ Connie said.
‘Really?’
‘Truly. I want you to keep him,’ Connie said. ‘He belongs here – in the HQ.’
Maggie looked deeply touched. ‘Are you sure?’
Connie nodded.
‘Thank you, Connie! He’ll be much loved.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Now, that’s not the only thing I came in for. I was worried about you last night. You didn’t say bye.’
‘Sorry,’ Maggie said.
‘Not anything I said, was it?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Then it must have had something to do with the handsome man who arrived late,’ Connie said.
Maggie took a deep breath. ‘You mean Mikey.’
‘You know, he didn’t recognise me for the longest time,’ Connie said. ‘It was rather wonderful.’
‘What happened when he did?’ Maggie asked.
‘Oh, the usual. His mouth dropped open and he asked for my autograph.’
The Runaway Actress Page 12
