The Runaway Actress

by Connelly, Victoria

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.’

  ‘But the reporter could then sell the story on,’ Connie said. ‘I’ve seen that happen before. We could be overrun with journalists before we know it.’

  ‘I know,’ Maggie said.

  ‘What are we going to do?

  ‘We’ll have to come up with something to put Colin Simpkins off the trail,’ Maggie said.

  ‘But what?’ Connie asked.

  Maggie looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You’re an actress, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think so,’ Connie said. ‘Why?’

  ‘And Isla didn’t recognise you when you arrived at the B&B, did she?’

  ‘No,’ Connie said. ‘I wasn’t wearing any make-up and I’d tied my hair under a cap. Should I do that again? Do you think that’s enough not to be recognised?’

  ‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘Colin’s too sharp for that. We need a real disguise. Something that would even fool your own mother.’

  ‘Like a wig and some false teeth?’

  Maggie nodded excitedly. ‘And I know just where to get them from.’

  After Maggie had sent word around to everyone that Colin Simpkins was on the prowl looking for Connie, they sneaked around the back of the houses and made their way to the village hall.

  ‘I’ve got a spare key,’ Maggie said, opening the ancient door and entering the old building.

  ‘What is this place?’ Connie asked.

  ‘The village hall. It’s where we’re doing the play.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Of course. Where else?’ Maggie said and then grinned. ‘I know what you’re thinking. It looks like a shack, doesn’t it? But we’ve got a stage and changing rooms and everything. It’s a bit past its best but it’s all we’ve got.’ Maggie couldn’t help noticing that Connie wasn’t looking impressed. ‘I know it needs a facelift but it’s really very pretty when the lights are on and there’s an audience.’

  ‘So, this is what you were raising money for with those signed photos of me,’ Connie said.

  Maggie bit her lip. ‘I’m so sorry—’

  ‘No need to apologise again,’ Connie said. ‘I can see why you did it. I would’ve done the same thing in your shoes.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘These places are important,’ Connie said and then something caught her attention. ‘Is that the stage?’ she asked, looking at the ancient wooden floorboards.

  ‘Yep!’ Maggie said. ‘Home sweet home for the next eight months.’

  ‘Eight months? You’re going to spend eight months here?’

  ‘Well, it’s a slow business getting it all sorted. You’d be surprised. Half of us don’t turn up half the time and then something important always gets forgotten.’

  ‘Like what?’ Connie asked.

  ‘The tea, mainly,’ Maggie said, ‘and nobody likes to rehearse unless tea’s been laid on.’

  ‘And who comes to see the play?’

  ‘Oh, just the locals.’

  ‘Just Lochnabrae?’

  ‘Well, we advertise it in Strathcorrie but the weather’s usually bad at that time of year and not many people show up.’

  ‘I’m confused,’ Connie said. ‘I can’t believe you go to so much trouble for so little reward.’

  ‘But it keeps us all going especially in the winter months,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s something to do and it’s fun. You must have acted for fun. Some of your roles – didn’t you choose them just for the fun of it?’

  Connie looked puzzled for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. Sometimes, the decision wasn’t mine at all. My agent tends to steer me towards certain roles – you know, ones that’ll be best for my career. Others are taken because the money’s good even when I really don’t like the script at all. Sometimes I have to do semi-nudity when I’d rather just not do that movie altogether. It’s one of the reasons I walked out.’ She strode up the steps onto the stage and took a deep breath. ‘It’s places like this where it all begins, isn’t it? Where dreams begin.’

  ‘Did your dreams start on a stage?’

  Connie looked down at Maggie. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But I think it’s where my mother’s dreams started – for her and then for me.’

  Maggie nodded. ‘You know, she probably acted on this very stage.’

  Connie’s eyes widened. ‘You’re probably right,’ she said. ‘How would we find out?’

  ‘Euan would probably know. He knows everything about Lochnabrae. You know it was Euan who came up with the fan club idea?’

  ‘Was it?’ Connie said. ‘He didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘He’s a really big fan. Probably your biggest after me. And Hamish.’

  Connie’s face clouded over. ‘You don’t think he’s some sort of pervert, do you?’

  ‘Euan? You’ve got to be kidding! He was a friend of your mother’s. He�
��s just dead proud of you, that’s all, and he might have a wee crush on you too,’ Maggie said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Connie put her hands on her hips. ‘Maggie!’

  ‘Yeah, come on. Let’s get down to business.’

  The two of them headed down to the changing rooms behind the stage.

  With a fairly decent eight hundred words written that morning, Alastair thought he’d walk down into Lochnabrae and give the village hall an airing before the read-through of the play that evening. Closing his door behind him, he called Bounce to heel and walked through the wood down to the loch. There was a stiff breeze about and the tops of the pines tossed against the blue sky. It was a stark reminder that summer was still a long way off.

  Following the loch around to the village, Alastair thought of the play they’d be reading that evening. He’d spent some time thinking about the casting of the role of Viola. She was the character around whom the whole action of the play revolved. She was warm and witty, generous of heart and endearing to the audience and the actress who played her would have to be sensitive, moving and confident.

  Catriona Kendrick was too young. Her sister Kirsty was about the right age but didn’t have the experience needed for the role. Isla was too old. Mrs Wallace was – well – Mrs Wallace. And Maggie? She had the sensitivity to play the part but she wasn’t the most confident of actresses. She’d do much better in the role of Olivia, which was a wonderful part but didn’t demand quite so much stage time as that of Viola.

  So that left Connie. Connie Gordon – Hollywood A-list movie star – to play Viola in the Lochnabrae Amateur Dramatics Society’s production of Twelfth Night. At first, when everyone had persuaded her to take part, he’d been against it because he hadn’t relished the idea of working with a real actress again. Indeed, the thought still made him nervous. But what else could he do? He’d chosen a play where the lead role was demanding and, unlike most of Shakespeare’s plays, female. Connie was the only one who could do it, he was quite sure of that.

  He groaned because he knew what that meant. They would be working closely together – there was no way around it. He would be directing her and the thought of that terrified him because the last time he’d directed an actress …

  He shook his head.

  I mustn’t think about that, he told himself. It’s in the past. It’s done.

  But was it? Didn’t the past always have an unnerving ability to raise its head in the present, repeating itself like an ugly echo?

  He took a deep breath. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. For the sake of the LADS, he had to be positive about the play. And Connie.

  Arriving at the village hall, Alastair was surprised to find the door unlocked. He’d distinctly remembered locking it behind him when he’d left last time so that meant one thing.

  ‘Maggie?’ he called as he went inside. Maggie was the only other person with a set of keys. Perhaps she was tidying up the wardrobe. He knew she adored the costumes.

  Bounce bounded up onto the stage ahead of his master.

  ‘Maggie,’ he called again but there was no answer.

  Alastair saw there was a light coming from the changing rooms and walked down the stairs.

  ‘Maggie – you in there?’

  ‘Alastair?’

  ‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed as he entered the changing room. ‘Is that you, Connie? What the hell are you doing?’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Bugger!’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘Did you really recognise her?’

  ‘Of course I did!’ Alastair said. ‘It’s a good disguise but it’s not that good.’ He looked Connie up and down, taking in the old felt hat, the baggy dress and the oversized glasses. It was then that Bounce galloped into the room and started to lick Connie’s hand.

  ‘Even Bounce recognises you!’ Maggie said, sinking down onto a bench. ‘We’ll have to try something else.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Alastair asked.

  ‘Colin Simpkins has been snooping around looking for Connie.’

  Alastair frowned. ‘How did he find out she’s here?’

  ‘Said he had his sources,’ Maggie said, ‘and it’s my guess his source stayed away from yesterday’s hike in order to make a call to him.’

  ‘Mrs Wallace?’

  ‘I don’t know who else it could be,’ Maggie said.

  ‘He muthn’t find outh I’m here or lifthe won’th be worth living,’ Connie lisped through the fake teeth before taking them out.

  ‘If it makes it to the national papers, it’ll be just awful for Connie,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ll have to have a word with Mrs Wallace, Alastair. She’ll listen to you. She’d no business to report Connie here.’

  Alastair nodded. ‘I will.’

  ‘She’ll ruin it for all of us if she doesn’t button that mouth of hers.’

  ‘So, what are we going to do about Simpkins?’ Connie asked.

  ‘I thought we’d find the answer here,’ Maggie said, ‘but there aren’t any decent costumes.’

  ‘Maybe we could order something from the internet,’ Connie suggested. ‘The clothes and books we ordered before arrived pretty fast.’

  ‘But not fast enough,’ Maggie said. ‘We need a disguise now!’

  The three of them were silent as they wondered what could be done. Connie moved behind a screen and slowly began to take off her old lady disguise and Maggie sat slumped on the bench looking thoroughly despondent. Alastair began to rifle through the costume box but Maggie was right – there wasn’t really anything suitable.

  Unless …

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ Alastair said.

  ‘What?’ Maggie asked, looking up excitedly.

  ‘How’s about Connie dressing as a man?’

  ‘Ooooh!’ Maggie said. ‘That’s good!’

  ‘And it’ll be in keeping with the play too. I mean, you’re playing a girl pretending to be a boy, so it fits,’ he told Connie as she emerged from behind the screen wearing her own clothes once more.

  ‘A girl playing a boy?’

  Alastair nodded. ‘Viola,’ he said. ‘It’s the best role in the play.’

  ‘Is it the biggest?’ Connie asked.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Alastair said.

  Connie swallowed hard.

  ‘What about this man’s disguise, then?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Well, we’ve got plenty of old shirts and trousers in here,’ Alastair said. ‘Start digging.’

  They all got to work, holding out checked shirts, tartan trousers and all sorts of other horrors until they found a half-decent pair of jeans and a blue shirt that was passable.

  ‘Try them on,’ Maggie said.

  ‘We’ll have to do something with her hair,’ Alastair said and Maggie nodded.

  ‘I’ve got a baseball cap,’ Connie said. ‘I’m used to tucking it under that.’

  ‘We could give it a go,’ Maggie said. ‘Isn’t there a fake moustache somewhere too?’

  ‘In that drawer over there,’ Alastair said. ‘There’s a special adhesive to stick it on with. Get them both out.’

  Connie emerged in her new attire. ‘Will I do?’ she asked.

  Maggie grinned and nodded. ‘Looks good.’

  Alastair shook his head.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Connie asked.

  ‘Nobody’s going to believe you’re a man.’

  ‘Why not?’ Connie asked.

  ‘Well, I can see two very good reasons,’ Alastair said, a naughty twinkle in his blue eyes.

  Connie instantly blushed as she saw Alastair staring at her chest.

  ‘This is just like Twelfth Night,’ Alastair said with a laugh. ‘Have either of you seen the Trevor Nunn film version? The opening shows Imogen Stubbs as Viola, strapping down her chest before she can hide it under her shirt.’

  ‘Like Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love!’ Maggie said.

  ‘Oh! I’ve seen that,’ Connie said. ‘So, what do I use?’

  ‘There’s a ro
ll of muslin somewhere. Hamish bought it a few years ago for one of our backdrops,’ Alastair said.

  ‘It’s still backstage,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

  When Maggie came with the roll, she opened one of the drawers and produced a pair of scissors and cut a great length of muslin from the roll. Connie disappeared behind the screen again and did the honours.

  ‘How’re you doing?’ Maggie asked a few minutes later.

  ‘Okay,’ Connie shouted back. ‘Just a bit more to pad out my tummy, I think. Make everything equal, you know?’

  Maggie got back to the roll and cut some more, passing it over the screen and then waiting with Alastair for the new-look Connie to emerge.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Connie asked a few minutes later.

  ‘Very good,’ Maggie said.

  ‘A vast improvement,’ Alastair said. ‘I mean, on what it looked like before. If you’re going to be a man, that is.’

  Connie smiled and Maggie giggled.

  ‘But I still look too much like me,’ Connie said, looking in the mirror. ‘I’ve got a pair of blue contact lenses with me. I could wear those but even with them and the cap and fake moustache, I’m sure people will recognise me.’

  ‘It’s your face shape,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s too beautiful. We need to rough it up a bit or fill it out or something.’

  ‘Can you do that with make-up?’ Alastair asked.

  ‘You know,’ Connie said, ‘I think you can.’

  ‘Well, we’ve got plenty of make-up here,’ Maggie said, opening another drawer.

  ‘And I’ve watched enough make-up artists over the years,’ Connie said. ‘Remember Keep Me Close?’

  Maggie frowned. ‘But you were beautiful in that.’

  ‘Not me!’ Connie said. ‘Curtis.’

  ‘Oh!’ Maggie said. ‘You can do that?’

  ‘What?’ Alastair asked. ‘I never saw that film, I’m afraid. I was away from home when the fan club saw it.’

  ‘Just give me a few minutes,’ Connie said.

  ‘What’s she going to do?’ Alastair asked as he and Maggie left the room.

  ‘Just wait and see,’ Maggie said.

  When Connie called them back in, she’d tied her hair back and shoved it under a hat she’d found on one of the shelves at the back of the dressing room. She’d used a foundation that had darkened her skin so that it now looked more weather-beaten than porcelain-delicate, and she was also sporting an ugly red scar down her left cheek.