Читать книгу The Runaway Actress - Виктория Коннелли, Victoria Connelly - Страница 12

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.’

‘Completely ruined!’ Connie’s voice suddenly called down the stairs. ‘I’ll have to chuck them.’

Maggie’s eyes widened with joy as she immediately started planning what she could wear with them. However, looking at the svelte figure coming down the stairs, it dawned on her that she might actually be a couple of sizes out of the trousers’ league. She gazed at the fabulously skinny pair of jeans Connie was now wearing and immediately promised herself that cream cakes were a thing of the past.

‘At least I’m dry now,’ Connie said, joining Maggie and Isla in the hallway. ‘And now we can say hello properly.’

‘I’m Maggie,’ Maggie said, not wanting to wait a moment longer than she had to. ‘Maggie Hamill.’ She stepped forward, her right foot catching on the hallway rug, causing her to plummet towards Connie.

‘Careful!’ Connie gasped, getting a mouthful of dark hair.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m Maggie.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. You write the letters, don’t you?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Astonishing!’ she said.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You being here.’

‘But you did invite me.’

‘Yes! I just never thought you’d come,’ Maggie said. ‘I mean, I hoped you would.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring to tell you first. It was a kind of spur of the moment thing but that’s all right, isn’t it?’ Connie asked.

Maggie nodded, a huge smile plastered on her face.

Connie sniffed. ‘You’re wearing Wishes!’ she said.

Maggie gulped. ‘Yes.’

‘I wear that too!’

‘You do?’

‘It’s my favourite scent. I take it wherever I go.’

Maggie bit her lip, and quickly changed the subject. ‘I wish you’d told us you were coming. I feel awful not meeting you last night.’

‘Hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t need a welcoming committee,’ Connie said.

‘It’s funny you should use that word,’ Isla said.

‘What word?’ Connie asked.

‘Committee. We have a Connie Committee, don’t we, Maggie?’

‘Oh! Yes, we do. It’s really just the fan club organisers. You’ll have to meet them. They’d all love to meet you. They won’t believe you’re here.’

‘There’s no rush for that, is there?’ Connie said. ‘I was kinda hoping to find my feet first – get to know the area a bit and relax.’

‘Oh, right,’ Maggie said, feeling a little deflated. ‘But you’ll come and see the Connie HQ, won’t you?’

‘What’s that?’ Connie asked with a frown.

‘It’s where we take care of the website and answer letters and things.’

‘It’s Maggie’s bedroom,’ Isla said.

‘It’s not my bedroom. I moved the HQ into the spare room at the front of the house,’ Maggie said.

‘Well,’ Connie said, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any harm in seeing the HQ, is there?’

‘Great!’ Maggie said, clapping her hands together and only just stopping herself from jumping up and down on the spot in excitement. ‘Will we go now?’

‘Right now?’

Maggie nodded and grinned.

‘I guess I didn’t have any other pressing engagements,’ Connie said.

‘Brilliant! Oh, this is so much fun. You’re going to love it, I know you will.’

‘Will you be having lunch here, Ms Gordon?’ Isla asked.

‘It’s Connie. Please call me Connie.’

Isla smiled and nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘I hadn’t really thought about lunch. Or eating. I don’t suppose there’s a restaurant here?’

‘In Lochnabrae?’ Maggie laughed. ‘You must be joking. There’s The Capercaillie.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The local pub but they only do baskets of chips and pies.’

‘Right,’ Connie said, wrinkling her nose.

‘I don’t suppose you eat that kind of thing,’ Maggie said.

‘I – well – I could give it a go, couldn’t I? I mean, I’m on holiday, right?’

‘Right!’ Maggie said. ‘We could get the fan club together in the pub. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t be official or anything – just a gathering of friends, really.’

‘Och, Maggie – will you let the gal settle in before you go parading her before the whole of Lochnabrae?’

‘Oh,’ Maggie said, looking somewhat crestfallen.

‘I will meet them,’ Connie said. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay,’ Maggie said. ‘I mean, we don’t really need to rush. I can keep you all to myself for a while, can’t I?’

Connie swallowed.

‘Oh, dear,’ Maggie said, ‘that sounded a little bit like that film, Misery, didn’t it – where the fan kidnaps that writer and ties him up and everything?’

‘Well, just a little bit,’ Connie admitted.

‘But I’m nothing like that. Honestly. I promise I won’t lock you up or prevent you from leaving or anything. You’re free to come and go as you please,’ Maggie laughed. ‘As long as you tell me first.’

Connie looked at Maggie.

‘I’m joking!’

‘Right!’ Connie said, giving a nervous laugh.

‘Now, come and see the HQ,’ Maggie said, opening the door and leading Connie outside.

When they were both in the street, Maggie couldn’t help noticing that Connie was peering at her neckline.

‘What’s wrong?’ Maggie asked.

Connie frowned. ‘I think your jumper’s on back to front.’