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 the shower and washed as quickly as she could and then she started to attack her hair. It was far from ideal having to apply a hairdryer to her fleece-like hair but she couldn’t meet Connie Gordon with unwashed hair, could she? And what was she going to wear? She thought of the sorry pairs of jeans in her wardrobe and the tired jumpers full of holes. There was the dress she’d worn to her cousin’s wedding but wouldn’t it be a bit odd to show up wearing that on a mid-week morning in Lochnabrae?
‘It’ll just have to be the cleanest and least holey things I can find,’ she said to herself, hanging her head upside down in an attempt to dry it before Christmas.
It was half an hour later by the time she got to Isla’s.
‘Where is she?’ Maggie said, breathless with excitement.
‘She’s gone,’ Isla said.
‘Gone! What do you mean, gone?’ Maggie looked around in panic.
‘She went out – a walk around the village,’ she said.
Maggie’s eyes widened in horror. ‘And you let her go? You had Connie Gordon here and you let her go?’
‘Well, what was I meant to do?’
‘Keep her here!’ Maggie cried. ‘At least until I got here. Oh, my! She could be anywhere. She might’ve escaped!’
‘Och! You’re getting carried away. She just wanted a breath of fresh air. She wouldn’t just leave. All her stuff’s upstairs.’
‘Stuff ?’
‘Suitcases. Three large ones. Goodness only knows what’s in them.’
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. ‘Can I see?’
‘Well, it’s not usual for me to show people my guest’s rooms,’ Isla said.
‘But it’s not usual for you to have a Hollywood movie star staying here, is it?’
Isla and Maggie’s eyes locked in mutual understanding. ‘Oh, all right then. just keep this between us, for goodness’ sake,’ she said, and the two of them hurried up the stairs together. ‘Did I tell you she touched me?’ Isla said. ‘She actually touched me! I’ll never wash this jumper again.’
‘Come on,’ Maggie said, anxious to get a look at the room before Connie returned.
Just as a formality, Isla knocked on the door. ‘She’s defi-nitely out,’ she said, unlocking the door with her landlady’s key.
‘Let us in then!’ Maggie said excitedly and, once Isla unlocked the door, the two of them entered the room.
Maggie gazed in wonder at the sight that greeted her. The bed had been left unmade and the dressing table was cluttered with all sorts of things: two great bulging make-up bags spilled lipsticks, mascaras and tubes of pale foundation. There were hairbrushes and perfume bottles too. Maggie dared to pick one up. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The bottle was an elegant teardrop shape in ridged glass that felt fabulous under her fingertips. Gently, she removed the golden stopper and sniffed.
‘It’s like heaven!’ she said, spraying herself in a cloud of Wishes. ‘So this is what a movie star smells like,’ she said to herself, inhaling deeply.
‘Maggie! Put that down! You shouldn’t touch those things.’
But Maggie couldn’t help herself. This was as close as she’d ever been to her idol and she was enjoying every single minute of it.
‘Look at this mirror,’ she said, picking up a silver hand mirror that gleamed in the bright light of the bedroom. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’ Maggie turned it over and saw a beautiful ‘C’ had been engraved on the back. ‘Oh!’
‘Maggie!’ Isla suddenly yelled. ‘Look at this!’
Isla had given into temptation and dared to peep inside one of the suitcases. Maggie gasped as she too saw the contents.
‘They’re evening dresses!’ Maggie said.
‘Where does she think she’s going to wear all these around here?’ Isla said, cooing as she touched the silky soft fabric of an ivory-white dress.
‘Would you look at that?’ Maggie said, pulling out a sapphire-blue gown trimmed with sparkling silver beads.
‘Don’t take it out,’ Isla all but screamed.
But Maggie couldn’t possibly leave it in the suitcase. It would be like showing a child a jar of sweets and telling it not to eat them.
The dark blue gown unravelled to the floor as Maggie held it up against her. ‘I LOVE it!’
Isla giggled and pulled out a velvet
