The Runaway Actress. Victoria Connelly

Maggie thought they were safe, she heard his front door open.

      ‘Hello there, Maggie!’ he called, shaking his walking stick in the air and making his way hastily down the path. He really could move at an alarming speed when he wanted to.

      ‘Hello, Mr Finlay,’ Maggie said, with a resolute smile on her face. ‘Don’t let him near you,’ she whispered to Connie.

      ‘What?’

      But it was too late to explain because Mr Finlay was upon them.

      ‘Why now,’ he said, his thin face creasing into a slavering sort of smile, ‘here’s a bonny lass I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting.’ And, before Maggie could even introduce them properly, he’d taken one of Connie’s hands and had suckered his mouth to it.

      ‘Oh!’ Connie exclaimed, doing her best to pull it away but not succeeding. His grip was iron-fast.

      ‘What a soft hand you have and what a lovely wee face. And what might you be doing here in Lochnabrae?’

      ‘Connie’s having a holiday,’ Maggie explained, ‘and we were just about to go out so if you’ll excuse us, Mr Finlay.’ Maggie grabbed Connie’s other arm but Mr Finlay still had hold of her and, for a few seconds, there was a bit of a tug of war until Maggie won with one colossal tug.

      ‘I’ll see you again!’ Mr Finlay said ominously.

      ‘Quick!’ Maggie said. ‘Before he follows us into the shop. We’ll never get rid of him if he makes it over the threshold.’

      Connie allowed Maggie to drag her to safety.

      ‘I’m so sorry about that!’ Maggie said once they were safely behind the locked door of the shop. ‘He means well but he can be a wee bit – er – intense at times.’

      ‘Is he always so attentive?’ Connie asked, wiping her hand on her jeans.

      ‘Yes. As long as you’re female.’

      Connie nodded. ‘I wish I could say I’ve never met anyone like that before but the whole of LA is like that.’

      Maggie grinned. ‘Well, I promise you we’re not all cut from the same cloth as Mr Finlay.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Connie said. ‘I don’t think I could survive many of those encounters,’ she said, rubbing her arms. ‘So, this is one of the shops in Lochnabrae?’ she said, looking around “Maggie’s”.

      ‘Er, no,’ Maggie said. ‘This is the only shop in Lochnabrae.’

      ‘No! Really?’ Connie said.

      ‘Yes, really!’

      ‘How on earth do you survive without – without other shops?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      Connie looked around. ‘I mean, how can you live somewhere without restaurants and coffee bars and – well, everything else?’

      ‘Because this is Lochnabrae not Los Angeles,’ Maggie said. ‘We have to make do.’

      ‘You must do a roaring trade, then.’

      ‘We do when the weather’s bad and people can’t get to Strathcorrie. Other than that, it’s a bit of a struggle. Folks love a bargain and local shops just can’t compete with prices.’

      ‘So, Strathcorrie has all the shops and restaurants?’

      ‘I wouldn’t say restaurants although the pub there does a nice Sunday lunch.’

      ‘God! Where do you all eat? And what do you all do here?’

      Maggie laughed. ‘We mostly eat at home or in the pub. It’s a quiet life, I’ll give you that, but most of us are happy with it.’

      ‘And you get by – with your shop, I mean?’

      ‘Things could be worse,’ Maggie said. ‘Of course, they could be better. The shop was run by my parents and by their parents before that and I’d hate to think of it closing. It’s so important to the community – especially for the old folks who can’t get out much. We’ve already lost the post office and the school closed down years ago too. The shop’s all we’ve got now.’

      ‘And the pub?’

      ‘Aye!’ Maggie said. ‘The pub will be here for ever. As long as there’s men to do the drinking, the pub’ll be safe. You’ll get to see it later. It’s a sight to behold,’ Maggie said with a laugh.

      ‘Is it near the HQ? You were going to show it to me.’

      ‘Yes, yes!’ Maggie said, suddenly wondering what sort of a state the HQ was in. It was fine when it was just herself but was it really fit for the arrival of its queen? ‘Can I get you a cup of tea first?’ she asked, thinking she could possibly nip into the room first whilst Connie watched the kettle.

      ‘No, thank you,’ Connie said.

      ‘I might just make one for myself.’

      Maggie led Connie through to the kitchen at the back of the house – a funny pokey room that was in a far worse state than the fan club HQ.

      ‘You’ll have to avert your eyes,’ Maggie said as she realised that she hadn’t done the dishes that morning. Or the ones from the night before. There’d been that really great movie on until late and she’d put off tidying up until the next day. Then there’d been the call from Isla. ‘I’m usually very tidy,’ she said.

      ‘You don’t have to explain,’ Connie said. ‘I live on my own too and it’s easy to be a little sloppy.’

      ‘Sloppy? You?’

      ‘Well, I would be if I got a chance. The trouble is, if I drop something or leave something unwashed, somebody comes along and picks it up or washes it before I’ve even noticed.’

      ‘Wow! It must be amazing having your own staff. Do you have a lot?’

      ‘I have staff coming out of my ears,’ Connie said. ‘Drives me crazy. Sometimes, I’d just like the house to myself, you know? It’s a bit like living in public at times.’

      ‘Gosh,’ Maggie said, trying to imagine what that must be like.

      ‘That’s one of the reasons why I’ve come here,’ Connie said. ‘I want to try and be – well – normal for a while. Find out who I really am without all the trappings of success, you know?’

      ‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine what it must be like being you. And I have tried – many times! I read about you in all the papers and magazines and the online reports. I’ve always thought it must be wonderful. I can’t imagine wanting to escape from that sort of life and come to a place like this.’

      ‘Can’t you?’

      Maggie shook her head. ‘It’s so – ordinary here. Nothing exciting ever happens. Not unless you count my brother Hamish streaking down the main street once a year on Burns’ Night after he’s had one too many.’

      Connie smiled. ‘But you have something else here.’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Peace,’ Connie said.

      ‘Och, I don’t know about that. You should hear the men coming out of The Capercaillie in the evenings. It’s not very peaceful then.’

      ‘No, not that kind of peace,’ Connie said. ‘I mean that sense of place. Of permanence, harmony, nature – that sort of thing. I felt it as soon as I arrived.’

      ‘Aye, we’ve plenty of nature. You can’t move around here for nature.’

      ‘And the lake – I mean loch,’ Connie said. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

      Maggie nodded. ‘Now, there’s