The Runaway Actress. Victoria Connelly

she was slightly perturbed by the obvious lack of shops. There wasn’t a single coffee bar or deli counter. Probably a small price to pay, she thought to herself, for such blissful calm and not a single long lens in sight. She was sure she could get used to it here.

      Trying to put aside all thoughts of what she was going to do when she started to crave a skinny latte, Connie found a group of boulders by the sandy shore of the loch and chose one to sit on. She hoped it was clean because she had put aside her jeans and was wearing very expensive pale blue Chanel trousers and a matching jacket in celebration of the sunshine. Perhaps not the best choice for a walk in the Highlands, she admitted. She’d just have to take care.

      She was just looking out across the sheeny water when her mobile beeped. Service! She took it out of her pocket. There hadn’t been any service in the village but there seemed to be a signal at this side of the loch and it appeared that Connie had a heap of messages waiting for her. She sighed. She really should have left her mobile at home or at least in the B&B. For a moment, she deliberated throwing it in the loch but her curiosity got the better of her and she took it out of her jacket pocket. The first message was from her agent.

      ‘Connie! Where the hell are you? Samantha told me some crap about you taking a vacation? Are you out of your mind? You can’t do this to me. Don’t you realise you have commitments here? I need you to come back—’

      Connie deleted the message before getting to the end of it. The next one was from Samantha.

      ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, Connie, but Bob’s been on the phone constantly. I told him you were away but he won’t believe me. You’ve got to call him.’

      Connie deleted it, and several more irate messages from Bob and anxious messages from Samantha.

      The final message was from Forrest Greaves.

      ‘Babe! Where are you? I can’t stop thinking about you. You looked so hot in that dress at the awards. Give me a call. You know you want to.’

      ‘Oooo! What a slime ball!’ Connie said, switching her mobile off and stuffing it into her pocket. She still couldn’t believe that she’d fallen for his smarmy charm.

      Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone? Couldn’t she just have some time and space to call her own? She got up from the boulder and dusted down the bottom of her pristine trousers. She deserved a break, didn’t she? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken one. She stormed across the beach towards a nearby wood, feeling her stress level soaring. Why did there have to go and be a mobile signal?

      Get rid of it, a little voice inside her said. Go on!

      ‘Right,’ she said, doing an about-turn and heading back to the loch, reaching in her pocket for the intrusive instrument. Taking a deep breath, she stretched her arm back and then flung it as far as she could into the silvery depths of the loch.

      It was then that she heard a strange sound. Turning around, she saw a black dog hurtling towards her, its legs and belly covered in thick brown mud.

      ‘WOOF! WOOF!’ it barked, its great paws eating up the ground as it hurtled full on into the water.

      ‘What the?’ Connie stared, watching it as it swam out into the loch.

      ‘BOUNCE!’ a voice called and Connie turned, seeing a dark-haired man emerging from the woods and striding across the sandy shore towards her. ‘Come here, Bounce!’

      Connie watched, spellbound as the dog swam on towards the centre of the loch and, only after the man had called his name again, turned and headed back to the shore.

      ‘Here, Bounce!’ the man yelled but the dog didn’t seem to be listening to him and, as soon as it emerged from the water, it took a few leaps towards Connie and only then did it shake the loch water from its coat.

      Connie screamed as the icy, muddy water cascaded over her, splattering her pale outfit.

      ‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘No!’ But the dog didn’t seem to understand. In fact, her response only seemed to excite it more and it began leaping towards her, its puppy paws bouncing off the legs of her trousers until they were more black than blue.

      Connie flailed her arms about as she tried to shoo the dog away. She’d only ever worked with well-trained animals on film sets and had no idea how to control such a furry ball of frantic energy.

      ‘BOUNCE!’ the man yelled, running towards the dog and pulling him away, making the dog sit at a safe distance. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

      Connie looked up, her eyes full of embarrassed fury. Her cheeks were blazing with shock and humiliation. ‘What … Who … Look at the state of my clothes! I’m a mess! That dog is … is out of control!’

      The man’s dark eyebrows drew together. ‘I said I was sorry. I couldn’t stop him in time. He’s just a puppy.’

      ‘He should be on a lead if you can’t take charge of him,’ Connie snapped.

      ‘You can’t keep a young dog on a lead.’

      ‘Well, you should’ve stopped him!’

      ‘He saw you throw something into the loch. He’s a Labrador. They like to retrieve things. He didn’t mean any harm. He was just doing what comes naturally to him.’

      ‘I’ve heard that line from men before,’ Connie said, ‘and it’s no excuse for bad behaviour! Just look at my trousers. They’re ruined.’

      ‘I’ll pay for them to be dry-cleaned,’ the man said.

      ‘They’re not just dirty. The material’s snagged. They’ve been tugged and clawed—’

      ‘Look!’ the man said, sounding impatient now, ‘I said I was sorry but if you’re going to wear unsuitable clothes when you go hiking, you’re asking for trouble.’

      ‘Oh, so it’s my fault now, is it?’

      ‘I’m just saying, you should be wearing something a little more practical.’

      ‘And when did I ask for your advice?’ Connie asked, glaring at him and noticing a pair of blindingly blue eyes. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life and hated the thought of this stranger seeing her in such a state. ‘I’ve got to get back,’ she said. ‘Don’t let the dog come near me again!’

      Connie pushed past the man and made her way – as dignified as was possible in the circumstances – towards the village in search of a pair of trousers with slightly fewer paw prints on them.

      Chapter Seven

      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