The Runaway Actress

by Connelly, Victoria

  Bob paused for a minute before speaking. His high forehead was wearing a frown of Grand Canyon proportions. ‘What? What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’m not sure where home is any more,’ Connie said again, slowly and clearly.

  ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

  ‘What do you mean, what do I mean? I don’t know how else to put it,’ Connie said.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Bob said, raising a hand and closing his eyes. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re unsure about something.’

  ‘Yes,’ Connie said. ‘To be honest – and I want to be honest with you – I’m unsure about a lot of things just now.’

  ‘Okay,’ Bob said calmly.

  Connie pushed her plate to one side and started to twist her fingers in her lap. He was listening to her, wasn’t he? He was really trying to understand her. It was no less than she should have expected from her agent but, coming from Bob Braskett, this sort of understanding was nothing short of miraculous.

  For a moment, neither spoke. Bob still had his eyes closed as if he was searching for the answer to some ancient mystery.

  ‘Bob—’ Connie began.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ he said, his eyes springing open.

  ‘Got what?’ Connie asked.

  ‘What it is you want,’ Bob declared smugly. ‘More money, right? I can get you more money.’

  ‘No,’ Connie said, and she could feel herself deflating with disappointment. She’d sincerely believed that Bob was trying to understand her. ‘I don’t want more money. I’ve got more than I know what to do with in one lifetime.’

  Bob looked a little crestfallen that he wasn’t right. ‘Well, why not enjoy it?’ he said, determining to take control of things again. ‘Buy yourself an island in the Caribbean – that’s the latest craze. Or a fancy yacht or an airplane. Everyone deserves a treat.’

  ‘I don’t want a treat,’ Connie said. Even to her own ears, she was beginning to sound like a petulant child. ‘You don’t understand. Even I don’t understand what I want.’

  ‘Oh, gawd!’ Bob suddenly exclaimed. ‘You don’t want a baby, do you?’

  Connie looked at him with bemusement. ‘Who said anything about a baby?’

  ‘Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,’ Bob said. ‘Or – worse – going to adopt some little foreign kid with jaundice.’

  ‘Bob! What a thing to say.’

  ‘Because all the stars are doing it and it means their work suffers. I’ve seen it over and over again. The kid always comes first.’

  ‘That’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever said,’ Connie told him, ‘and you’ve said some pretty appalling things in your time.’

  ‘So you’re not adopting a kid?’

  ‘No, I’m not adopting a kid.’

  ‘Thank Christ for that.’

  ‘I’m getting a drink,’ Connie said with a sigh, scraping her chair back. ‘Do you want one?’

  Bob shook his head and Connie made her way to the bar, her head throbbing. A drink was the last thing she needed when she was feeling the way she was but it was the only thing that was going to get her through this dire evening.

  As the others chatted on their table, Alastair was surreptitiously watching Connie and Bob. Things weren’t looking good between them. Connie looked pale and anxious and Bob looked red and angry. It was sad to witness. They were so obviously two people who wanted different things out of their business relationship.

  Alastair thought about the Connie he’d seen up on the hills that day. She’d been laughing, smiling and chatting. Her face had glowed the most gorgeous pink and her eyes had been beautifully bright. Yet here she was looking like a doll whose stuffing had been ripped out of her. It was taking all his willpower not to get up and walk over there but what could he possibly say? He had no business over there. He wasn’t a part of their world and, even if he did think of something to say, they wouldn’t listen to him. This, he knew, was Connie’s decision and he had to trust her to make the right one.

  Still, he couldn’t help thinking of that moment when their hands had touched at the stile and how easy it would be for him to cross the pub and take her hand in his now and run back up into the hills with her until she was laughing again.

  I must not fall in love with this woman, he told himself. She’s an actress and I’ve sworn off actresses. They’re bad news. Just remember what happened last time. And a Hollywood superstar would be far worse than any stage actress.

  ‘Alastair?’ Maggie’s voice suddenly broke into his thoughts.

  ‘Yep?’ he said, shaking the Cathy and Heathcliff image of himself and Connie from out of his mind.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘’Course,’ he said, dragging his eyes away from Connie.

  ‘What do you think’s going on over there?’ Maggie asked as Connie scraped her chair back and stalked over to the bar.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t look like a nice cosy chat, now, does it?’

  ‘I’m going to go over there,’ Maggie said.

  ‘No,’ Alastair told her, placing his hand on hers.

  ‘But that man’s going to take Connie away, I just know it.’

  ‘That might be so but you’ve no business to interfere.’

  ‘But I’m her friend,’ Maggie said.

  Alastair took a swig from his glass. ‘Maggie,’ he said quietly, ‘we’ve got to let Connie go.’

  Maggie’s face crumpled. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘She was only ever visiting – you must realise that,’ Alastair said.

  ‘She’s happy here,’ Maggie said. ‘She told me so and I’ve seen the change in her. You have too. And you like her, don’t you? I know you do.’

  ‘Aye,’ Alastair said. ‘I can’t deny that but we can’t keep her here. This isn’t where she belongs.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ Maggie demanded.

  ‘Because I know actresses,’ Alastair said, ‘and they don’t live in places like Lochnabrae.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They just don’t. Oh, they might think that’s what they want for a while. They might take a holiday or even buy a cottage in the middle of nowhere and play housekeeper for a while – I’ve seen it before – but it’s a role that doesn’t fit. Sooner or later – and it’s usually sooner – they crave the bright lights and the adulation of an audience and head back.’

  ‘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.’r />
  ‘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.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  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 pr
isoner 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?’