The Runaway Actress

by Connelly, Victoria

  Connie breathed a sigh of relief and went to tell Bob the news.

  ‘I’ve got you a room.’

  ‘Where you’re staying?’

  ‘Yep. Come on,’ she said.

  ‘Connie,’ Bob said. ‘Why are all those people staring at us?’

  ‘Because you’re making a scene.’

  ‘Who are they, anyway?’

  Connie smiled. ‘They’re my fan club.’

  ‘Yeah, well, they’re creeping me out,’ Bob said, taking one last look behind him before he hurried towards the bed and breakfast with his suitcase and briefcase in tow.

  Connie had her own front door key and let him in before Isla had a chance to catch up with them.

  ‘Jeez!’ Bob said as he plonked his things in the hallway. ‘This place is enough to bring on one of my migraines.’

  ‘Oh, stop moaning, Bob. It’s beautiful here.’

  ‘It’s like being inside one of those kaleidoscopes. Everywhere I turn, I see a different pattern.’

  It was then that Isla entered. Connie swallowed hard, hoping that Isla hadn’t heard but, from the look on her face, she had and she turned to face Bob, her eyes stony with loathing.

  ‘This way,’ she announced, her voice as spiky as a thistle. Connie and Bob followed her up the stairs and Isla opened the door into a small bedroom with a dizzying carpet. Bob’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Is there nothing bigger?’

  ‘No,’ Isla snapped. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘He’ll take it,’ Connie said.

  As Connie disappeared into the bed and breakfast with Bob, Maggie and the rest of the fan club watched in wonder.

  ‘Wasn’t he just the rudest man?’ Kirsty said.

  ‘And his breath stank,’ Catriona said.

  ‘Who was he?’ Euan asked.

  ‘Connie’s agent – from Hollywood,’ Maggie said.

  ‘I’ll have to have a word with him,’ Angus said.

  ‘Yes,’ Euan said, ‘tell him to take better care of our Connie.’

  ‘No,’ Angus said. ‘To tell him that Connie should be doing westerns instead of all them romantic comedies.’

  ‘Angus!’ Maggie shouted. ‘Will you stop going on about bloody westerns for five minutes?’

  For a moment, nobody said a word. Maggie never lost her temper, let alone swore.

  ‘You okay?’ Hamish asked, stepping forward and laying a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m just worried about Connie,’ Maggie said.

  ‘She looked okay to me,’ Angus said.

  ‘Then you weren’t looking closely enough,’ Maggie said and, with that, she walked up the road towards the shop.

  She was anxious and, if she was totally honest, she was anxious not just for Connie but herself too. Connie had become such a wonderful fixture in Lochnabrae and Maggie wondered if the arrival of her agent marked the end of her stay.

  ‘She said she’d do the play,’ she told herself. ‘She has to stay for that.’

  She let herself into the shop and dumped her rucksack behind the till, leaning forward onto the counter and sighing. She knew she was being selfish wanting Connie to stay. Connie had her own life to lead – she had films to make, premieres to attend, and other, far more glamorous people than Maggie to meet. She wasn’t going to stay in Lochnabrae for ever. Who was Maggie trying to kid by thinking that she would? It was an impossible dream – a Maggie dream – and it was nothing more than pure fantasy.

  She wasn’t surprised when she heard the bell at the door sound. She’d had a feeling Hamish would come after her so, when she looked up and saw Mikey standing there, she didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Are you all right, our Maggie?’ he asked, his eyes dark and anxious.

  Maggie nodded but didn’t say anything.

  ‘You think Connie’s leaving?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, what’s she got to stay here for?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Mikey said, ‘there’s plenty to keep a person happy here.’

  ‘Really?’ Maggie said. ‘Then why did you leave?’

  Mikey’s brows narrowed over his eyes. ‘I went travelling.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To see places. I needed to see what was out there.’

  ‘Lochnabrae wasn’t enough for you, was it?’ Maggie said.

  ‘I came back, didn’t I?’

  ‘But for how long?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mikey asked. ‘What’re you talking about, Maggie?’

  Maggie turned away.

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘Nothing!’ she said. ‘I mean nothing.’

  ‘It didn’t sound like nothing.’

  Maggie blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill and then she turned to face Mikey again. ‘What do you want?’

  Mikey looked confused. ‘What do I want?’

  ‘You came in here. What did you want?’

  ‘Oh!’ Mikey said. ‘I came in for that shortbread. You know, we were talking about it the other night?’

  Maggie sighed. ‘Middle shelf at the end,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Brilliant!’ Mikey said, a fat enthusiastic smile on his face. ‘How much is it?’

  ‘Just take it,’ Maggie said, waving a hand at him.

  ‘Thanks, Mags,’ he said. ‘You’re the best.’

  And Maggie watched as he left the shop with the packet of shortbread clutched in his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Connie’s agent wasn’t the type to calm down – the only thing that would ever calm him down would be a fatal heart attack and Connie was quite certain he was heading straight towards one.

  ‘You were lucky to get this room at all,’ Connie said.

  ‘Lucky?’ Bob said incredulously. ‘It’s a complete dump. I can’t understand what you’re doing here.’

  ‘I told you – I needed a break.’

  ‘Well, couldn’t it wait, for pity’s sake?’

  ‘For when, Bob? Maybe you’ve not noticed but there’s never a break. When I finish one film, I’m straight into another. You know my schedule – you’ve been orchestrating it for the past ten years.’

  ‘And I haven’t heard any complaints before.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t have any time to complain!’ Connie shouted, sinking down on the single bed by the window.

  Bob scratched his bald head and took his glasses off. He looked around the room and scowled. ‘I need to eat,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had anything decent since I left LA. You’ve got a car, right?’

  Connie shook her head. ‘I got a taxi from Glasgow airport.’

  ‘You didn’t hire a car? You mean you’re stuck here?’

  ‘I like it here. I don’t need to go anywhere else.’

  ‘But there’s nothing here!’ Bob shouted. ‘No restaurants, no shops, nothing.’

  ‘There’s a small shop that sells everything you need – well, almost – and there’s the pub. We can eat there,’ Connie said, surprising herself at how strongly she defended the very village that she’d been unsure of just a few days ago.

  Bob didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Look,’ Connie said, ‘take a shower, get changed and then we’ll head out. You’ll enjoy yourself – I promise.’

  Connie waited for Bob in her own room. She took off her hiking clothes, had a hot shower and changed into a lilac cashmere jumper and a pair of jeans. Combing her hair, she wondered what the evening held in store for her. She was uneasy with Bob’s presence in Lochnabrae. He was out here purely for business purposes and she wasn’t sure she liked the implications of that. She’d come out here to find the time and space to make her own mind up about things. She didn’t want her agent doing it for her and she knew he had every intention of doing just that. Why else had he flown out here? He wasn’t anxious about her well-being – he was more concerned with his own. Connie knew that she was one of his biggest clients and he was protecting his own interests by following her to Scotland.
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  There was a light rap on her bedroom door.

  ‘Connie?’ a voice said. It was Isla.

  ‘Come on in,’ Connie said and Isla entered the room. Her face was pale and anxious.

  ‘I’ve come to see if you’re all right, my dear.’

  Connie smiled. ‘That’s kind of you, Isla.’

  ‘Is his lordship in his room?’

  Connie nodded. ‘We’re heading out to the pub this evening. Would you like to join us?’

  Isla looked startled. ‘I don’t think his lordship would thank you for inviting me, would he?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Connie said, ‘but I’d like to have you with me.’

  Isla walked across the room and took Connie’s hand in hers. ‘I think you might need to be alone with him, don’t you?’

  A huge sigh left Connie. ‘Yes. You’re right but I’m absolutely dreading it.’

  ‘Are you going to leave him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

  ‘He’s making you miserable,’ Isla said.

  ‘Yes, but he’s been making me miserable for so many years that I’m kind of used to it and I’m not sure how I’d function with anyone else.’

  ‘But there must be other agents you could try.’

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  ‘Then why don’t you give a different one a go?’ Isla asked.

  Connie didn’t answer for a moment. ‘Because,’ she said at last, ‘I’m not at all sure what I’m going to be doing in the future.’

  Isla stared at Connie, trying to discern what she meant. ‘You mean you’re thinking of giving up acting?’ Isla suddenly blurted.

  ‘Shush!’ Connie hushed. ‘He’ll hear you.’

  ‘But you can’t give up acting!’

  Connie looked up at Isla. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’re Connie Gordon!’

  ‘People keep saying that! I wish I knew what it meant.’

  ‘It means you’re an actress,’ Isla said. ‘The best there is.’

  ‘But I might be other things too,’ Connie said.

  ‘Like what?’ Isla asked.

  ‘Like – I don’t know but that’s what I’m trying to find out. Please don’t say anything to anyone, will you?’ Connie said.

  Isla rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Of course I won’t, my dear.’

  ‘You see, Bob doesn’t know yet although I think he has an inkling which is why he’s here.’

  ‘We could always lock him in his room until you’ve decided what to do,’ Isla said with a wink.

  Connie laughed. ‘As much as I like the sound of that, I think I’d better try and sort things out as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll stay long?’

  ‘No,’ Connie said. ‘If I know Bob, he’ll be out of here first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Good riddance,’ Isla said.

  ‘But I’m not looking forward to the time between now and then.’

  ‘Maybe I should come with you tonight,’ Isla said.

  Connie shook her head. ‘Thanks, Isla but I think I’d better face him alone.’

  Twenty minutes later and Connie was standing in Bob’s room as he was fastening a pair of flashy gold cufflinks.

  ‘Are we going out for this meal or what?’ he asked impatiently.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Connie said.

  ‘You’re going out like that?’ Bob asked, turning around.

  ‘Sure. Why not?’

  Bob peered at her closely. ‘You look different. Unwell.’

  ‘I haven’t got make-up on. That’s all. It’s no big deal, is it?’

  ‘No make-up? You’re going out and you’re not wearing make-up?’

  ‘I’m meant to be on holiday,’ Connie said, shrugging.

  ‘But you always wear make-up.’

  ‘So I’m having a change. I’m letting my skin breathe!’

  Bob looked startled. ‘And what’s that smell?’

  ‘What smell?’

  Bob sniffed, his sharp nose moving unnervingly close to Connie’s face. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘It’s my face cream. Benet’s Balm. The monks make it. It’s very nourishing.’

  Bob shook his head in disgust. ‘And you need a haircut.’

  Connie tutted. ‘I do not. It’s just that I haven’t blow-dried it this evening. I’m giving it a break. Skin, hair, me. Everything needs a break, Bob, so get used to it.’

  He glared at her for a moment and she felt sure that he was on the verge of saying something quite horrible but he seemed to change his mind, grabbing his room key and leaving instead. What had happened to their relationship, she wondered? He hadn’t always been so antagonistic. When she’d first signed with him, he’d been positively pleasant but maybe that was just to gain her business. One thing was for sure now – she didn’t trust him.

  They left the bed and breakfast just after eight. The sky was beginning to darken and there was a stillness that made Connie feel wonderfully serene.

  ‘Wait till you see the stars, Bob. They’re amazing. The sky’s stuffed with them.’

  Bob grunted. ‘You’re the only star I want to see,’ he said. ‘You and my other clients who I left to come and find you in this hell hole.’

  Connie rolled her eyes. This, she thought, was going to be a dreadful evening.

  The Capercaillie was packed with everyone who’d been on the hike and more besides. Pints were being downed at an alarming rate and everyone raised their glasses when Connie entered.

  ‘Connie!’ Maggie shouted across the room. ‘I’ve kept you a seat,’ she said, patting the bench beside her.

  ‘I’ll join you later,’ Connie shouted back and then motioned to Bob who was making his way to the bar. Maggie nodded in acknowledgement. When Connie joined Bob, he was scrutinising the menu from behind his glasses. ‘What’s this meat pie like?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Connie said. ‘Good, I expect. All the food’s wonderful.’

  ‘And loaded with cholesterol, no doubt.’

  ‘God! Will you relax for one moment?’ Connie snapped.

  He looked up at her in alarm. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Me? Nothing! It’s you who’s uptight.’

  Bob looked dumbfounded. He’d never been spoken to like that before by a client, Connie realised.

  ‘This foreign air’s affecting you,’ he said, his eyes returning to the menu. ‘Perhaps I should just have the salad.’

  ‘Have the pie, Bob. Live dangerously.’

  ‘No,’ he said, snapping the menu shut. ‘Salad for me. No dressing.’

  ‘I’m having the pie,’ Connie told Fraser. ‘With chips, please.’

  Fraser nodded and grinned.

  ‘Chips?’ Bob said.

  ‘Fries.’

  ‘I know what they are. I don’t need a translation.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’ Connie asked.

  Bob removed his glasses and pinched his nose. ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you think we should go and join her?’ Maggie asked Hamish. ‘She looks really stressed out.’

  ‘He doesn’t look as if he’s in the mood for conversation,’ Hamish said. ‘Not with us, anyway.’

  ‘Best leave them to it for a bit,’ Alastair said, taking a swig from his pint.

  ‘What do you think he wants?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Probably come to take her back with him,’ Alastair said, turning to look at Connie and Bob.

  It was the answer Maggie had been dreading. She’d been hoping against hope that Bob might have some news for Connie that simply couldn’t be imparted by phone and that he’d be gone the next day and Connie would stay for ever and ever.

  ‘So she’s really going, is she?’ Sandy asked from the end of the table.

  ‘Looks that way,’ Alastair said.

  ‘I thought she was going to be in our play,’ Sandy said.

  ‘Aye,’ Alastair said. ‘Just as well we d
idn’t make a start then, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m going to miss her,’ Kirsty said from the other end of the table.

  ‘Me too,’ Catriona said and the two of them gazed over at Connie.

  ‘It won’t be the same without her,’ Kirsty said.

  ‘No,’ Catriona said. ‘Everything will just go back to being boring.’

  Maggie sighed. It was absolutely no comfort that she wasn’t the only one who was going to miss Connie.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Connie was halfway through her pie and chips, wondering why she’d never eaten proper food before in her life when it was so delicious. She could scream when she thought about the years that she had starved herself, the appalling diets she had been on and how listless and miserable they’d made her feel when, all the time, there was wonderful, home-cooked food out there just begging to be eaten and enjoyed.

  She was just wondering if she could get the pie recipe from the pub landlord when Bob Braskett started in earnest.

  ‘I’ve flown across the Atlantic to bring you home – back to where you belong, Connie.’

  At first, Connie didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’m a busy man but I’ve made time for you because you’re special to me.’

  Connie almost choked on a chip. It was the closest Bob had ever got to saying anything remotely kind to her.

  ‘Really?’ she said, thinking it would be fun to milk this for all it was worth.

  Bob looked suddenly bashful. ‘Of course you are. You’re my best client.’

  ‘I bet you say that to all your clients,’ Connie said.

  ‘I do but, in this case, I mean it.’

  ‘And I bet you say that to them all too.’

  Bob put his knife and fork down and steepled his fingers together.

  ‘It’s time to come home with me, Connie. We can’t afford to have you a missing person any longer.’

  Connie sighed. That’s what it all came down to, of course – money. She was a commodity and, when Bob said that she was his best client he meant that she was his best earner.

  ‘There’s a problem with that, I’m afraid,’ Connie said, knowing that now was the time to be absolutely honest with him.

  ‘Problem? What problem?’

  Connie looked at him, her bright hazel eyes seeking his out. ‘I’m not sure I know where home is any more.’