harassment charge.
‘Maggie, it’s Isla. What on earth did you do to Connie? She’s just stormed out without so much as a by your leave.’
‘I didn’t do anything!’ Maggie said.
‘Are you sure? You were the last person she saw.’
Maggie sighed. It was time to confess. ‘Well, she found out about the fan club – the photos I sign.’
‘Ah!’ Isla sighed down the phone. ‘And she wasn’t too pleased?’
‘You could say that,’ Maggie said. ‘Oh, what are we going to do?’
‘What do you mean? You think she might leave?’
‘She wasn’t happy – that’s for certain,’ Maggie said. ‘I can’t bear the thought of having upset her. I’d never do anything to hurt her and yet I managed to do just that within a few minutes of meeting her.’
‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making out,’ Isla said.
‘Are you? Are you really?’
‘Well, no,’ Isla said.
Maggie’s shoulders slumped. ‘She hates me. I know she does.’
‘But can’t you explain things to her?’
‘I tried. I told her about the LADS but she didn’t seem to want to listen.’
‘Perhaps she should meet them, then,’ Isla said.
‘Meet who?’
‘The LADS, of course! Get everyone together – down The Capercaillie – and I bet you anything she’ll love them. Who wouldn’t?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Maggie said. ‘I think I might have put her off fans for life.’
‘What have you got to lose? If she already hates you, what does it matter if she hates the rest of us too?’
Maggie frowned. She wasn’t sure she was following Isla’s logic.
‘I suppose it might be worth a go,’ Maggie said, ‘if she hasn’t left already, that is.’
‘She’s not left properly – just rushed off into the hills. All her stuff’s still here. Once she’s let off a bit of steam, I’m sure she’ll be ready to talk to you again.’
‘Really? You think so?’ There was a pause. ‘Isla?’
‘Well,’ Isla said, ‘you can give it a go, anyway.’
Maggie hung up. She didn’t feel reassured in the least.
Alastair was actually having a good morning. He’d written five pages of – well, something – and his fingers didn’t seem to want to stop. Okay, it wasn’t perfect and it definitely wasn’t a play and he knew he was going to have to go back and revise but, for the time being, he was happy with the way things were progressing and, whenever that rare moment dawned, it was almost always interrupted by the telephone.
‘Damn!’ Alastair yelled. He wished he was one of those writers who could ignore the demands of the world around him. He had a friend who could write through an earthquake but Alastair wasn’t like that.
‘Hello!’ he barked into the phone.
‘Alastair? It’s Maggie. Did I disturb you?’
‘Yes, Maggie. You did, as a matter of fact.’
‘Oh,’ she said, instantly making him feel guilty.
‘What is it?’ he said in a gentler voice. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Well, not everything. You haven’t seen Connie, have you?’
‘Connie?’
‘Connie Gordon’s here. Well, she was here but we’ve lost her.’
‘What?’
‘The actress. She’s here in Lochnabrae.’
‘The Hollywood actress?’
‘Yes. Look, I’ll explain later but I’m worried about her. She’s gone missing. Isla said she saw her heading up the hill towards your place.’
‘Why would she be coming up here?’
‘I don’t know – just out walking, I guess. Have you seen her?’
‘No. I’ve been inside working.’
‘Well, can you look out of your window?’
‘Wait a moment,’ Alastair said, annoyed that he’d been interrupted but intrigued by the possibility that there was a Hollywood actress roaming around. He opened the front door and walked to the end of his garden, peering down the track that led through the woods to the loch but there was nobody there.
He ran back indoors. ‘I can’t see anyone. Do you want me to take a proper look around?’
‘Oh, Alastair – would you? It would be a weight off my mind if I knew she was okay.’
‘What’s she doing here?’
‘Trying to get away from it all but I’m afraid I’ve not been helping her do that.’
‘Well, leave it with me and I’ll give you a call if I find her.’
‘Thanks, Alastair.’
Alastair put down the phone and sighed. Normally, he hated – hated – being interrupted when he was in full flow but he had to admit that this situation was a little out of the ordinary. After all, how often did a Hollywood star hang out at his croft?
And then it dawned on him. They’d already met. Of course! The girl by the loch he’d thought had looked like Connie Gordon had been Connie Gordon.
‘Oh my God!’ he said with a sigh, thinking of the appalling mess Bounce had made of her beautiful trousers – her beautiful movie star trousers. ‘Best not tempt fate again,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Bounce. We’ll have a walk later.’
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