Runaway Actress (17 page)

‘No. Judi Dench is a great actress. Meryl Streep is a great actress.’

‘Yes,’ Maggie said, ‘they are but they’re not Connie Gordon. You’re a great comedienne, Connie. You should really do more comedies. You don’t have an equal.’

‘All right! Enough already!’ Connie said with a laugh. ‘What did I do to deserve you, Maggie?’

‘You don’t deserve me. You deserve
twenty
of me but I’ll have to do for now.’

‘Maggie, you mustn’t be so – so giving. So trusting. I’ll only let you down.’

‘No, you won’t. You couldn’t possibly let me down.’

‘But it’s too much pressure to put on someone.’

‘I see,’ Maggie said. ‘Well, I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Connie said quickly. ‘It’s just – well – I don’t want to be a movie star here. I want to be a friend. A normal, everyday friend. I want you to like me for
who
I am not for the films I’ve made.’

‘But I
do
like you for who you are!’ Maggie said. ‘Truly! You’re sweet and kind and—’

Connie raised a hand in protest. ‘You don’t have to compliment me all the time.’

Maggie looked disappointed for a moment but then she sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I get it. I’ll treat you like anybody else, right?’

‘Yes,’ Connie said seriously.

They were silent for a few minutes. Maggie slowed the car down as they descended a steep hill and Connie peered up at the sky.

‘Do you think it’s going to rain?’ she asked.

Maggie peered out of the car window. ‘Och, no! Not for hours at least. We should be okay. But we’d better make sure you get a good quality waterproof whilst we’re in town. Just in case. And some waterproof mascara whilst we’re about it. I wouldn’t dare use anything else in the Highlands. Not that
you
need make-up,’ she quickly added, ‘because you’re perfect just the way you are.’

‘Maggie!’ Connie groaned.

‘Sorry!’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll stop flattering you. I promise. You have my
absolute
word!’

The road climbed higher before descending into Strathcorrie but the visibility was so bad that the views were obscured.

‘On a clear day, it’s marvellous,’ Maggie enthused. ‘What a shame we can’t see much.’

Just then, a great hulk of a building loomed up at them from out of the rain.

‘What’s that?’ Connie asked.

‘Oh, that’s Rossburn Castle. It’s pretty old. Up for sale now but been empty for years.’

‘Is it a ruin?’

‘Part of it is,’ Maggie said, pointing to the east tower, which was now home to rooks. It was grey, imposing and horribly dilapidated.

‘I love it,’ Connie said.

‘Do you?’ Maggie said in surprise. ‘I’ve always found it really spooky.’

‘It has a strange beauty about it, don’t you think?’

‘Strange is the right word for it,’ Maggie said. ‘When we were little, Hamish and I would cycle up here in the summer holidays and play in the grounds. We used to make up horrible ghost stories because we thought it was haunted. I used to have nightmares about it.’

‘And is it?’

‘What?’

‘Haunted?’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. Just by a few bats and rooks,’ Maggie said.

‘It needs a lot of work doing to it, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh, aye. Whoever buys it will need a spare million.’ Maggie suddenly turned around. ‘Connie!’

‘What?’

‘
You
could buy it!’

‘Me?’

‘Yes! Oh, this is brilliant! It could be your Highland retreat.’

‘But there’s the B&B. What would I want with a draughty old castle?’

‘But you said it was beautiful.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Do you want to look at it?’ Maggie asked, her voice filled with excitement. ‘I can pull over here. It won’t take a minute.’

‘Well,’ Connie said, ‘I suppose it would be interesting. You don’t get many ancient castles in Hollywood. Well, not genuine ones anyway.’

Maggie turned down the track that led to the castle. ‘Isn’t this exciting? I haven’t been here for years. I’d forgotten it was so beautiful up here although the weather can be pretty fierce sometimes.’

They’d reached the end of the short track and Maggie parked the car. Getting out, they both stared up at the great grey walls of the castle.

‘It’s amazing,’ Connie said. ‘Look at the size of it!’ She craned her neck back and gazed up at the monstrous walls that shot into the sky. ‘Why are the windows so small?’

‘You wouldn’t want large ones with the winds up here,’ Maggie told her.

Connie shivered, partly at the thought of the cold castle and partly because the wind was blowing strongly and coldly right now.

‘Like it?’ Maggie asked.

‘I do,’ Connie said. ‘I really do.’

Maggie grinned. ‘The estate agent’s in Strathcorrie. We’ll be walking right by it.’

‘Oh, really?’ Connie said.

‘Aye,’ Maggie replied with a twinkle in her eye.

‘I’ll bear that in mind, then,’ Connie said.

Leaving the castle behind them, they followed the road over the brow of a hill and then descended into a wide valley and Connie got her first glimpse of Strathcorrie.

‘That’s it,’ Maggie said.

‘Strathcorrie?’

‘The very same,’ Maggie nodded. ‘You were expecting something bigger, weren’t you? Something more along the lines of Glasgow?’

‘Well, I—’ Connie wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. ‘It’s lovely. Very quaint.’

‘Oh, I hate that word –
quaint
. It’s what people say when they mean
rubbish
.’

‘But I didn’t say that,’ Connie protested. ‘It’s just a little smaller than I imagined.’

‘You’re used to big, aren’t you?’ Maggie said.

‘I am,’ Connie said, ‘but you keep forgetting that I ran away from big.’

They drove down the hill and entered the town, and Connie got her first proper look at the place.

‘Well,’ Maggie said, pulling up in the car park outside the town hall, ‘this is it.’

Connie looked around. There was only one street and a handful of shops. On one side of the road was a baker’s, chemist and a greengrocer’s. There was an ugly building that looked like some kind of bank and a prettier building next to it that looked like a newsagent’s. On the other side of the road was a hairdresser’s, a garage, a butcher’s, a tiny shoe shop, a café, a florist’s, a boutique, the old cinema, and an outdoor pursuits shop selling everything you needed for surviving the Scottish terrain. Then, there was the all-important pub.

‘We’re very lucky here,’ Maggie said. ‘To have all this within driving distance in the Highlands. Some people have to drive for half a day before they get anywhere. Strathcorrie’s a godsend, it really is.’

‘And where are we heading?’

Maggie nodded to the boutique. ‘
A Touch of Tartan
. Don’t be put off by the name. That’s just Enid’s little obsession. Virtually every other item is made of tartan. It’s for the tourists, really, but mind you don’t get sucked in and come out looking like a bagpipe,’ Maggie said, leading the way into the shop. ‘Enid?’ Maggie called as they entered, pushing the wooden door behind them and tinkling the little bell above.

A curly grey head b
obbed up from behind the counter.

‘Ah, Maggie, dear,’ Enid said. ‘And how are you?’

‘I’m very well, Enid.’

‘And you have a friend with you, I see,’ Enid said, pushing her glasses up her nose and scrutinising Connie.

‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘Con-Constance.’

Connie smiled and nodded. Would her disguise work or would she be discovered?

But Enid merely nodded.

‘I have just the thing for you,’ she said, bending down behind the counter and bringing out a large grey item.

Maggie took it from her and hugged it to her face. ‘Lovely!’ she said.

‘What is it?’ Connie asked, trying to make out if the shapeless item was for wearing or for placing on the floor in lieu of a carpet.

‘It’s a cardigan,’ Maggie said, taking off her coat and brown cardigan and slipping on the grey creation.

‘Just your size,’ Enid said.

‘Yes!’ Maggie enthused.

Connie shook her head. ‘It’s enormous, Maggie!’ But Maggie didn’t seem to be listening. She was smothering her feminine form in endless folds of unrelenting grey. ‘Maggie!’ Connie shouted.

Maggie looked up from out of the depths of the woolly garment. ‘What?’

‘What would Mikey say?’ Connie asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If he saw you wearing this?’

‘He’d probably say what he usually says,’ Maggie said.

‘Which is?’

‘Nothing at all. He usually just ignores me.’

‘Exactly!’ Connie said. ‘You can’t go around dressed like a bag lady if you want to get a man’s attention.’

‘But you have to keep warm, Connie, and these things last years and years.’

‘More’s the pity,’ Connie said. ‘Anyway, there are ways to keep warm in style.’

Both Maggie and Enid looked at her, seemingly stunned by this piece of information.

‘Okay,’ Connie said. ‘Let’s try again.’

Reluctantly, Maggie took off the cardigan and handed it back to Enid.

‘Will you not be wanting this then, Maggie?’

‘Well—’ Maggie glanced at Connie.

‘No,’ Connie said.

‘Not today,’ Maggie added.

‘Not ever,’ Connie said. ‘Now, let’s get to work.’

Connie looked around the shop. There were certainly plenty of tartans from darkest blues, through vibrant greens to shocking scarlets but Connie thought them best avoided. Most of the rest of the stock looked tweedy and old-fashioned.

‘Oh, dear,’ Connie sighed, and then she spotted some real clothes at the back of the shop. They were the sort of clothes that middle-aged women wore to weddings and dinner parties: frumpy, mumsy and totally uninspiring but, as she rifled through them, she spotted one or two nicely cut pieces in materials that looked promising.

Holding up a dress in a pretty claret colour, Connie turned to Maggie.

‘What do you think of this one?’ she asked as she held up the dark red dress.

‘Isn’t it rather – well – boring?’ Maggie asked.

‘It certainly is but it’s a good cut and it has potential and the colour will look good on you, I think.’ She held it up to Maggie. ‘I’m going to slash the front and show off that great cleavage of yours.’

Maggie gasped.

‘And maybe shorten it so we can see your legs.’

‘My legs?’

‘Yes. Those two things that have been hibernating for so long.’

‘I don’t usually wear skirts or dresses,’ Maggie said.

‘I know,’ Connie said, ‘but it’s about time you did.’

‘They’re not really practical in the shop.’

‘But you’re not always in the shop, are you?’ Connie pointed out.

Maggie looked thoughtful. ‘I guess not.’

Connie sighed. ‘Don’t you
want
to look like a woman?’

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. ‘Aye, I do.’

‘Then find me some dresses and skirts that you like. They don’t have to be perfect. Just pick the colours and materials you like. I’ll do the rest.’

‘What do you mean?’ Maggie asked.

‘Remember my film,
Guinevere
? Well, I spent hours bored out of my mind on that set. There was so much hanging around that I got friendly with one of the costume girls and she taught me a few tricks of the trade. I’m actually quite good with a needle and thread.’

‘You mean you’re going to cut up these dresses?’

‘Cutting up is just the start. I’m going to turn these clothes into something really special. Have you got a sewing machine?’

‘No, but Isla has.’

‘Good.’

For a moment, Connie could have sworn that Maggie was about to burst into tears.

‘You’re doing all this for me?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I want to.’

Maggie’s eyes shimmered with tears and then she launched herself at Connie, squeezing her in a hug the like of which Connie had never experienced before. ‘You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met!’

It was a good half hour before they left the shop. Connie had bought four dresses and three skirts and Enid had been somewhat surprised and delighted at the sales.

‘Och well, you two can come again,’ she smiled, packing the garments into bags.

As they left the shop, Connie looked up and down the high street. ‘Shoes,’ she said. ‘That’s what we need next.’

‘I don’t really wear shoes,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m more of a boot kind of girl.’

Connie glanced down at her footwear. ‘So you are,’ she said, eyeing the manly hiking boots Maggie was sporting. ‘But you can’t wear those with these dresses, can you?’

They reached the car and dumped the bags they’d managed to gather so far and then headed to the shoe shop.

Like
A Touch of Tartan
, the stock was very limited but they managed to find three pairs of rather beautiful shoes in Maggie’s size that would flatter rather than flatten her outfits.

‘Now,’ Connie said, ‘what kind of accessories do you have?’

Maggie frowned. ‘I’ve got a watch. It’s got a compass and you can dunk it underwater and everything.’

Connie shook her head. ‘A watch isn’t an accessory. Well, not unless it’s a Cartier or something.’

‘I don’t know what it is,’ Maggie said. ‘It was Hamish’s.’

‘Then I very much doubt it’s elegant,’ Connie said. ‘We need proper accessories. Handbags, jewellery – that sort of thing.’ She looked up and down the high street.

‘Mrs Brodie at the chemist sells a few bits of jewellery,’ Maggie said. ‘But it’s really for the bairns.’

Connie screwed up her nose. ‘Maybe we could try online again. I know the most perfect site for jewellery.’

The sky had darkened since they’d been in the shop and the air had cooled dramatically.

‘Come on,’ Maggie said. ‘My turn to help you shop now.’

Connie, who was still wearing her baggy Maggie disguise, pulled down her woolly hat and followed Maggie to the outdoor shop across the road. It was larger than the boutique and filled with all manner of strange things that Connie had never had reason to buy before – like ropes and rucksacks, boots and breathable jackets.

Like Enid in the boutique, the man behind the counter didn’t pay very much attention to Connie. She was just another tourist who had been stupid enough to arrive in the Highlands without so much as a woolly hat.