yes! Only make sure you’re wearing something dark and dog-proof.’
Maggie led the way upstairs and turned into a bedroom to the right of the landing. ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘The Connie Gordon Fan Club HQ.’
Connie stood looking dumbfounded and Maggie watched her eyes roving over everything from the magazine clippings on the noticeboard to the movie posters on the walls. There was a shelf filled with Connie’s films on DVD and there were framed postcards of the films too. Everywhere she looked, her own face smiled right back at her.
‘It must seem a bit strange,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s not all mine, though. The whole fan club collects little bits and pieces. Hamish – that’s my brother – he buys the posters from an online site. He just adores your films. He’d love to meet you.’
‘You’ve got an Oscar!’ Connie said.
Maggie giggled. ‘Well, it’s plastic,’ she said, picking it up and showing it to Connie. ‘We bought it when you were nominated for best actress for Just Jennifer. Which you should have won, by the way. You were completely robbed that evening.’
‘Completely,’ Connie agreed jokingly and then gave a little smile and handed back the plastic Oscar.
‘What would you have said?’ Maggie asked.
‘What?’
‘If you’d won the Oscar. What would your speech have been like?’
Connie took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m not sure.’
‘You mean you didn’t plan one? I thought everyone planned them in case they won and then forgot everything in the excitement of winning.’
Connie shook her head. ‘Not me. I really didn’t think I’d win so I just went along for an evening out.’
‘Oh,’ Maggie said, unable to hide her disappointment. ‘But, if you had – what would you have said?’
Connie looked thoughtful. ‘I’d probably have burst into tears like Gwyneth Paltrow and Halle Berry.’
‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘I think you would’ve given a beautiful speech. Go on,’ she added, handing her the plastic Oscar again, ‘give your speech.’
‘Maggie – I—’
‘Go on!’ Maggie said, a pleading look on her face.
Connie didn’t look too happy to be clutching the fake Oscar again and, for a moment, Maggie thought she was going to leg it out of the HQ altogether and never be seen again. Had she pushed things? Was it all a bit daunting for her to be trapped with a nutty fan and asked to give a speech? Maggie was just about to apologise when Connie suddenly started talking.
‘I’m determined not to cry tonight because I don’t have my waterproof mascara on but I would like to thank all the people who’ve helped me on my way. First, my mother, who has pushed and pulled me from the age of four, plastering my face with make-up and dragging me to endless classes and auditions even when I wasn’t well. Remember when I’d cracked a rib from falling off a horse doing that remake of Black Beauty? You thought I was fooling and made me go tap dancing. Luckily, the teacher could see I was in pain and got me to the hospital in time. If it hadn’t been for you, mother, I might’ve had a slightly more normal upbringing and not be suffering from exhaustion after working tirelessly for so many years. I might also have made a few real friends too. Perhaps even gotten married and had kids. I wasn’t really a person to you, was I? I was a commodity. Connie the commodity! To be sold to the highest bidder.
‘But it’s not just my mother I want to thank. I’d like to thank my agents past and present. The ones who have ripped me off, thinking I’m too thick or too busy to notice, and those who’ve put me forward for inferior jobs because they’ll bring in the big bucks. I’d also like to thank the men in my life – all the slimeballs and the cheats I’ve had the misfortune of dating. I can safely say that they’ve behaved even worse than some of my stalkers. At least stalkers usually adhere to their injunctions. And, finally, I’d like to thank my fans. Some of the letters I receive are truly mind-blowing and I’d just like to settle some matters here and now if that’s all right. No, I won’t drop everything and marry you, Mr Complete Stranger, nor will I send you photographs of myself naked. So, please stop asking me and leave me alone.’
Connie stopped, her face red and her eyes looking slightly glazed. She blinked, as if suddenly remembering where she was.
‘Right,’ Maggie said, her eyes wide in surprise. ‘Well, that was some speech.’
Connie handed back the Oscar. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure where all that came from.’
‘The very pit of your being, I imagine,’ Maggie said. ‘Would you like that cup of tea now?’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a skinny latte?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. But I make a really good cup of tea.’
Connie nodded and slumped into the chair by the computer.
‘Coming right up,’ Maggie said, leaving the room and returning downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, she stood staring into space. What had just happened there? A famous Hollywood movie star had just let rip about the whole business, dispelling all the myth and magic. It had been the very last thing Maggie had been expecting. But then, what had she expected? She’d never really thought Connie Gordon would turn up in Lochnabrae at all and yet here she was.
‘Poor Connie,’ Maggie whispered, smiling at the irony of the words. She’d never thought those two words would ever be placed next to one another because not only was Connie one of the highest paid movie stars in Hollywood but she was incredibly lucky too. She was beautiful, intelligent, gifted, and she was happy, wasn’t she? All those things made a person happy – that’s what everyone believed. Yet there she was up in Connie HQ with a face as dark as December.
‘But I can do something about it,’ Maggie suddenly said, putting the kettle on and making two cups of tea. ‘She came to me. She needs my help.’
Maggie stared into space, thinking about the enormity of her situation. The most beautiful actress in the world was upstairs and needed her help! It was a huge respon-sibility. Was she up to the challenge? She nodded. Yes, of course she was.
Stirring an extra large spoonful of sugar into her tea and leaving Connie’s black and sugarless so she could add whatever she wanted, she returned to Connie HQ upstairs.
‘Here we go,’ Maggie said, entering the room. ‘Two teas.’
Connie was sitting at Maggie’s desk, her back to the door.
‘You all right?’ Maggie asked but Connie didn’t answer. Maggie put the two mugs down on the adjacent coffee table and it was then that she saw what Connie was looking at. She’d found the folder.
‘Maggie, what are you doing with all these photographs?’
‘Oh, they’re for the fans.’
‘My fans?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie
