Victoria Connelly - The Runaway Actress

Connie slammed the phone down and let out a scream. How dare he propose getting back together with her when he’d treated her so badly and when he was about to become a father. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? He really was the limit.

She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. She needed to calm down before she began hyperventilating.

‘Count to ten,’ she told herself as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth for a few steadying moments. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’

It was then that something caught her eye. Sitting in a neat stack on the desk was the latest fan mail left by her personal assistant. On the top was a curious pink and yellow checked envelope. Connie picked it up and looked at it. It was from overseas. Scotland!

‘It’s tartan!’ Connie laughed, slipping the letter out and unfolding it.

Dear Ms Gordon

It seems rather a long time since I last wrote to you and I’m so sorry! We’ve been very busy here in Lochnabrae. As you know, the fan club is going from strength to strength. We get lots of hits on the website and we even had a Connie Gordon season last month showing a film of yours each night at our village hall. We then voted on our favourite film – it was Milly in the Morning , by the way – and then Isla Stuart, who runs the bed and breakfast here, made a ‘Milly’ cake with pink and yellow icing. You’ll notice we’ve got pink and yellow stationery now too – my brother, Hamish, designed a Connie tartan based on Milly’s gorgeous dress in the film. I hope you like it.

Connie took another look at the envelope and laughed. It really was very pretty.

So, as you can see, we’ve been keeping busy. But that doesn’t excuse me forgetting to write to you and I just wanted to extend our invitation to you once again. You know you’ll always be made welcome here in Lochnabrae. It’s a beautiful part of the Highlands with mountains and rivers and our very own loch in which you can swim. (Well, about twice a year if it gets really hot!) We have a small bed and breakfast and Isla says you’d be made very welcome if you wanted to stay. She has radiators in all the rooms and hot water bottles aplenty if you come in winter. Or summer. And I’ve got a spare room too. That’s to say, most of the time – unless Hamish has too many at the pub and can’t make it home which isn’t often, thank goodness.

I know you’re probably very busy in Hollywood with your films and stuff and we must seem like another planet to you but we’re a very friendly planet and we’d love to see you.

All best wishes from

Maggie Hamill

(Administrator of the Connie Gordon Fan Club) xx

Connie read the letter through once more. Lochnabrae. She hadn’t thought about that place for years. It had been the birthplace of her mother and she remembered being fascinated by stories of it when she was young. Stories about icy swims in the loch, thick mists that clouded the houses and snowdrifts that would cut the village off for weeks. It was a magical, almost mystical place on the other side of the world – so far away from the dirt and dazzle of Hollywood.

Connie’s eyes widened as she thought about it. Hadn’t she just been praying for an escape? For peace? For a place where she could lose herself and leave all her troubles behind her including lying, cheating ex-boyfriends and mothers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut? And here was a letter from her fan club promising her all those things. It was fate. It was destiny. It was plain common sense.

Without losing a single moment, she picked up the phone and called her PA.

‘Samantha? It’s Connie. I’m sorry to ring you so early but I thought you should know that I’ll be leaving town today. I’m going away. No, Bob doesn’t know. Tell him it’s family business. I don’t know how long it’ll be for. Yes, he’ll have to deal with those film people himself, and the charity events too. Tell him I need a vacation. A really good vacation.’

Maggie had got up extra early to search the web for photos of Connie at the ‘Cream of the Screen’ awards ceremony. It didn’t take long to find some.

‘Oh!’ she cried, her eyes feasting on the sparkling silver dress she was wearing. ‘That’s the most beautiful dress in the world!’ Maggie right-clicked on the image and saved it to her computer for use on the fan site. Copyright? Smopyright! This was fan business and fans needed up-to-date, drop-dead gorgeous photos of their idol.

She searched around some more and found two different angles, instantly recognising the diamond necklace Connie was wearing. Maggie could list the other three events her idol had worn it to and which dresses she’d been wearing it with. She prided herself on her knowledge; she was the keeper of all things Connie.

One of the photos she was now saving showed Connie in profile with her perfect nose. Maggie automatically wrinkled her own huge tuber of a nose, wondering if a lowly shopkeeper could justify plastic surgery. And then she found a photo of Connie handing the award to the actor, Forrest Greaves.

Maggie whistled. ‘Now that must’ve been interesting,’ she said to herself, knowing how he’d double-crossed Connie on the set of one of her films. Still, he was devilishly handsome. Perhaps it had been worth having her heart broken. She saved the picture with a quick click and then got to work updating the website blog.

There was always so much to do. Connie was always in the news and Maggie loved unearthing the stories on the internet although she didn’t publish everything because a lot of the stories were clearly fabricated. Like the time it had been reported that Connie had been abducted by aliens and given birth to ET’s lovechild. Maggie shook her head as she remembered. Poor Connie. It must be so frustrating to have such rubbish printed about you. The UK press was bad enough but the US really did take some beating.

Maggie had often dreamed about visiting America and going to see the homes of the stars in the Hollywood Hills but she didn’t suppose it was ever going to happen. People like her just didn’t travel. She’d once been to Edinburgh on a school trip. They’d seen the castle and heard the canon fire, and had visited the dark narrow streets of the Old Town and the wide Georgian splendour of the New Town but all Maggie could remember about the trip was how sick she’d felt on the coach. It had taken hours to reach their capital city and hours back to the Highlands and Maggie had been completely done in by it all. So how on earth would she fare on a trip to America? She’d never survive the ordeal, would she?

‘I’ll never leave Lochnabrae,’ she said to herself. But it wasn’t so bad as fates went. She really did love the little Highland community with its tiny white houses and stunning views, and most of its residents were happy with their lot too. She couldn’t think of anyone from the older gener-ation who’d ever been over the border into England let alone left the UK. Mrs Wallace and her husband holidayed in Mull every single year and Isla had once had a trip to Oban but hadn’t liked it. Sandy Macdonald had ventured further afield in his youth but he was a hearth and slippers type these days. He didn’t even like going into Strathcorrie on market days any more.

‘Too many damned people!’ he’d say. ‘You can’t walk in a straight line without bumping into somebody or other.’

What would Connie Gordon think of them all, Maggie wondered? She’d travelled the whole world, hadn’t she? The people of Lochnabrae would seem so very dull and unadventurous to her.

Maggie looked away from the computer screen, her eyes drifting to the view outside. What would Connie think of their little corner of the world, she wondered?