Runaway Actress (29 page)

‘You said it,’ Connie said. ‘Now leave me alone.’

‘Okay,’ Simpkins said, reaching for his mobile phone and taking a quick snap of Connie. ‘I’ve got what I came for, anyway.’

Connie listened as his footsteps retreated. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach by the man and just wanted to double back to the B&B and curl up in her bed.

‘Connie? Is that you?’ a voice suddenly said.

‘Maggie?’

‘Aye,’ Maggie said. ‘I heard voices. Are you okay?’ Maggie took Connie by the arm and led her inside. ‘What are you doing out here?’

They walked into the shop together, Connie blinking as Maggie put the lights on.

‘I was—’ she paused. What could she say? That she was going to see Alastair to tell him she was pulling out of the play? ‘Just walking,’ she finished. ‘I felt a bit restless.’

‘But I heard you talking to someone.’

Connie nodded. ‘Simpkins was here.’

‘Why, the low-level rat!’ Maggie hissed.

‘He was hanging around outside Isla’s and followed me.’

‘And you weren’t wearing Ralph,’ Maggie said. ‘I suppose he recognised you?’

‘He said he’s got his story now too.’

‘Oh, no! What can we do?’

‘There’s nothing we can do. We’ll just have to ride it out,’ Connie said. ‘I’m sure it’ll blow over soon enough. Once people know I’m here, the novelty will wear off. They’ll soon get bored of me.’

‘Isn’t that what Princess Diana thought?’ Maggie asked.

They were quiet for a moment.

‘The thing is,’ Connie said, ‘if I run away, I’ll just run into another story somewhere else. Anyway, I don’t want to run away. I like it here.’

‘And here likes you,’ Maggie said with a smile.

‘So, I have to stay and see it through,’ Connie said. ‘I want to stay. Only—’

‘What?’

‘If I stay, I’ll have to be in the play, won’t I?’

‘I
knew
that was worrying you!’ Maggie said.

‘The play’s so much a part of Lochnabrae and – if I stay – I want to be a part of that too,’ Connie said.

‘And you will,’ Maggie said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Connie sighed. ‘But I don’t think I can do it.’

‘’Course you can,’ Hamish said, suddenly appearing in the middle of the shop in his pyjamas.

‘Hamish!’ Maggie scolded.

‘I’m sorry,’ Connie said, turning to go. ‘It’s late. I’m disturbing you.’

‘No, don’t go,’ Maggie said. ‘Come on through and have some hot chocolate.’

Connie relented and followed the two of them upstairs. There was a small lamp on in the tiny living room and the warm glow was comfortingly concealing, for Connie was feeling as if she might cry at any moment. She was tired and she’d been pushed, prodded and perturbed and wasn’t quite sure which way was up and which was down any more. Maggie made sure she was comfortable on the saggy sofa before disappearing to make three cups of hot chocolate.

‘You were great tonight,’ Hamish said, sitting down in an ancient armchair opposite her.

‘No, I wasn’t. I was crap.’

Hamish frowned. ‘How can you say that?’

‘Because it’s the truth,’ Connie said with a shrug. ‘I didn’t understand the plot properly, I could hardly say any of my lines without stumbling and I’m terrified – physically terrified – of the idea of being on stage.’

Hamish chuckled. ‘So’s everyone,’ he said. ‘It’s part of the fun of amateur dramatics. Who’ll make an arse of themselves first?’

Connie looked confused. ‘What?’

‘It’s true!’ he said, leaning forward as he got into his stride. ‘It’s just a wee bit of fun to pass the time. We’re not in it for artistic brilliance. Well, Alastair might be – he does try and push us all to do our best. We’re just out to have a laugh, really.’

‘But you all looked so serious tonight,’ Connie said.

‘Aye. Well, that’s nowt but a bit of healthy competition. We all try to outdo each other at the read-through – like we know what’s going on,’ Hamish said.

‘But
you
knew what you were doing, didn’t you?’

‘Now and again,’ Hamish said. ‘But half those words are Greek to me. It takes time to learn a play. That’s why we’ll be having all them rehearsals. It’ll come – gradually. You’ve just got to allow yourself to jump the hurdles and not shy away from them.’

Connie sniffed. ‘Well, I’d never really looked at it like that before.’

‘But you must have. What with all them films you’ve done.’

Connie shook her head. ‘But they were easy. Films are never shot right through in one take. You do them in bite-size pieces. You only have to learn a few lines and perform for a few minutes at a time. I can do that.’

‘Aye, I know you can,’ Hamish said. ‘And better than any actress I’ve ever seen.’

Connie smiled. ‘You’re sweet,’ she said.

‘But you can do this play too, Connie,’ he said. ‘I know you can.’

‘You think?’

‘Aye, I do.’

They locked eyes and Hamish smiled at her and nodded.

‘Here we are,’ Maggie said, entering the room with a tray loaded with three mugs and a plate of chocolate fingers. ‘Now, let’s discuss this problem.’

‘Oh, there’s no problem,’ Connie said.

‘It’s all sorted,’ Hamish said.

Maggie looked at her brother and then looked at Connie. ‘Sorted?’

‘Aye,’ Hamish said.

‘Aye,’ Connie echoed, and they both leant forward to steal a chocolate finger.

‘Sara!’ Alastair exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, and it’s lovely to see you too!’ Sara replied. Bounce immediately leapt up at the unexpected visitor. ‘Well, at least somebody’s pleased to see me.’ She bent down and patted the soft, ebony head.

‘Of course I’m pleased to see you – it’s just a bit of a surprise.’

‘You know I’ve always liked surprises,’ Sara said.

Alastair nodded, hoping that his expression of panic was hidden by the darkness. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember.’

‘Come on, then. Get this door open. I’ve been stood out here for ages. It’s a wonder I’ve not frozen completely.’

‘But it’s open – didn’t you try it? I never lock it.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ She rolled her eyes in horror as Alastair opened the door for her without the aid of a key.

‘Don’t you have an outside light? It was really spooky standing out here all alone.’

‘No, I don’t,’ he said. ‘And it’s not spooky. It’s serene.’

‘Trust me – it’s spooky.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘Taxi from the airport.’

‘You flew from London?’

‘Well, I wasn’t going to drive all the way to the back of beyond, was I?’

He switched a couple of lamps on in the front room and took his coat off before stabbing at the fire, which was now looking very sorry for itself. Bounce rolled in the middle of the floor, waving his fat paws in the air before hurtling across the room to his basket where he turned around precisely three times before settling down for a good night’s sleep.

‘This is all very quaint,’ Sara said, stroking her short blonde hair, which had been hidden under a hat that was designed as a fashion statement rather than anything to keep a head remotely warm. ‘It’s all so small.’

‘No smaller than the flat in London,’ Alastair said, feeling as if he had to defend his little cottage against this interloper from the city.

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘And you didn’t get a view like the one I now have in London.’

‘I didn’t see the view – it was dark when I arrived.’

‘Did you see the stars?’ Alastair asked.

She shook her head. ‘No. I was texting you, trying to find out where the hell you were.’

‘I was in the village.’

‘Ah, yes. I drove through it on the way up here. There’s not much to it, is there?’

‘There’s enough.’

‘Enough for you and your new life, you mean?’

‘I’m happy here, Sara,’ he said. They stared at one another for a moment, both wondering what would come next. ‘Listen,’ Alastair said at last, ‘take your coat off and I’ll make us some tea.’

‘Aren’t you going to bring my suitcase in?’

Alastair’s eyebrows rose. ‘Right.’ He opened the front door and saw the suitcase parked in the shadows. It wasn’t exactly a modest overnight bag – more along the lines of a piece of luggage you might take on a fortnight’s luxury cruise and that knowledge panicked Alastair. What exactly was Sara doing here and how long was she planning on staying? They hadn’t been in touch with each other since …

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it.
Couldn’t
let himself think about it and yet her very presence brought all those memories crashing to the forefront of his mind, and he knew there was no getting away from them. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of running away from things when he’d found his modest little home in Lochnabrae but he was beginning to realise that you can never really run away from the past. It will hunt you down and make you face it sooner or later.

As he dragged the unwieldy case into the living room, he noticed that Sara had made herself comfortable on his sofa.

‘How did you know where I was?’ he asked and then realised how rude that had sounded.

‘Jeff gave me your address.’

Alastair secretly seethed at the traitorous friend. Jeff was Sara’s brother and, when they’d broken up, Alastair had kept in touch with Jeff just to make sure that Sara was okay but there’d been an unwritten subtext that his details wouldn’t ever be passed on to Sara. But then he remembered what Sara had been through and guilt flooded him.

‘How are you?’ he asked, noticing that her skin was snowdrop-white, almost transparent.

She gave him a little smile that reminded him of how fragile she was. ‘I’m well,’ she said. ‘Much better.’

He nodded. ‘Good. I was worried about you.’

‘I know you were and I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I can never forgive myself—’

Alastair’s hand rose in the air. ‘You don’t need to say anything.’

‘But I do.’ She sat forward on the sofa. ‘I wanted to try and explain—’

‘Please. Not tonight, Sara.’

She swallowed and he saw the familiar look of uncertainty pass over her face and it made his heart plummet with fear.

‘I’ll make that tea,’ he said. ‘Okay?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’

In the tiny sanctuary of the kitchen, he stared out of the window at the big black space beyond and wished that it would suck him out and split him into a million tiny pieces.

Don’t be so crass
, he told himself, switching the kettle on and trying to find two unchipped mugs in the cupboard.
You were in love with her once
.
Remember?
He nodded his head at his reflection in the window.
So stop thinking about yourself for five minutes and be kind to her – it’s the least she deserves.

He made the tea and returned to the living room, handing her a cup.

‘Thanks,’ she said, patting the seat next to her.

‘I’ll just get the fire going,’ Alastair said, reaching into the log basket and chucking a couple of logs into place. He could feel Sara’s eyes upon him as he stoked the fire into life and he delayed turning around to meet her gaze.

‘Alastair,’ she said at last, ‘come and sit down. I want to talk to you.’

He did as he was told, an awful feeling of inevitability draining him of all energy.

‘I know you don’t want to talk about it but I never got a chance to thank you,’ she said, her voice barely audible. He took a sip of his tea but didn’t say anything. ‘What I did – what I put you through – I can’t begin to imagine what you suffered.’

‘You don’t need to do this, Sara.’

‘Yes – yes,
I do!
Because you left before I could explain. You didn’t give me a chance and that wasn’t fair, Alastair!’

Alastair closed his eyes. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘It’s not that I think we shouldn’t talk about this – we probably should – but it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. I wasn’t expecting this tonight.’

There was a moment of silence when the only sound audible was the crackle of kindling from the fireplace.

‘You don’t want me here, do you?’ Sara asked, her voice suddenly becoming louder.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You don’t need to – it’s written all over your face.’

He took a deep breath – the sort he remembered taking a lot of when he lived with Sara. ‘Let’s not fight. Please. I don’t want to fight. Not again.’

There was an icy silence.

‘Okay,’ she said a moment later, ‘we’ll talk in the morning.’ She stood up, placing her half-finished tea on the table in front of her. It was then that something caught her eye. ‘You’re writing again?’ She picked up the notepad from the table.

‘Trying to.’

‘A play?’

‘No,’ he said abruptly, causing her to flinch. ‘Sorry,’ he added quickly. ‘I’m not sure what it is. It’s a bloody mess – that’s all I know at the moment.’

‘I’m sure it’s brilliant,’ Sara said and her voice was warm and gentle now, reminding Alastair of the early days when they had first met, before things had become so restless and strained. She waited a moment, looking as if she was hoping he’d say something but he remained resolutely silent. ‘Look, I’d better go to bed,’ she said at last.

Alastair nodded and then he realised what she was saying. ‘You’re staying here?’

‘Well, of course I’m staying here!’

‘I mean there’s no room.’

‘You’ve got a double bed, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, then …’

For a moment, Alastair thought of suggesting Isla’s bed and breakfast but Connie was staying there and he really didn’t want Connie and Sara meeting. Sara represented his old life whilst Connie represented … what, exactly? He wasn’t yet sure but he knew that he didn’t want to jeopardise it; he didn’t want the worlds of his past and possible future colliding.

‘I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ he said at last.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Alastair. We shared a bed for three years.’

‘Yes, but not any more.’ Their eyes met and Sara seemed to understand him at last.

‘Look, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?’ he said. She nodded and he thought he could see tears in her eyes.
Please don’t cry
, he thought.
Just let us get through tonight without incident.