The Runaway Actress. Victoria Connelly

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.’

      Chapter Eight

      Maggie Hamill had never felt more important in her life than right there and right then – walking down the main street of Lochnabrae with Connie Gordon by her side. She could hardly believe it and kept taking little sideway glances at her companion just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the whole thing.

      They walked by a row of white cottages between the bed and breakfast and Maggie’s shop and she couldn’t help hoping that they wouldn’t bump into anyone. Please don’t make Mrs Wallace be twitching her curtains now, Maggie begged. Or old Mr Finlay. Not that he’d recognise Connie but that wouldn’t stop him waylaying them. If there was one thing old Mr Finlay appreciated, it was a pretty young girl. Maggie shook her head as she thought of the time he’d managed to trap her as she was turning around from