Runaway Actress (31 page)

It was then that they’d fought – all the way up the mountain and down the other side. They’d argued for the whole length of two valleys and had shouted their way through a wood before returning to the cottage.

Alastair rubbed his sore eyes as he remembered. What a day it had been. The
Twelfth Night
rehearsals hadn’t helped either. In fact, it was just as he’d dreaded. Connie was so deeply insecure about everything she was doing on stage and Alastair just couldn’t seem to get through to her. Credit to her, she could remember her lines but it seemed as if it was like learning a foreign language to her – she could remember the words but there was none of the understanding that gave them meaning and life. Alastair had become more and more frustrated and had taken his bad mood out on Connie, which was wholly unfair. Maggie had thrown him some seriously dagger-like glances throughout the evening and had cornered him a couple of times too.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she’d hissed at him at the first available opportunity.

‘I’m directing, Maggie,’ he’d said, and stalked off to avoid further interrogation. He’d been an idiot. He knew that but there hadn’t seemed to be much he could do about it with everything that was happening in his life at that moment.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the image of Connie. She’d looked so fragile – a look he associated with Sara and one he’d hoped never to see again yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help being drawn towards Connie. Her vulnerability was compelling and he wanted to reach out and help her only he was going about it completely the wrong way.

He got up from the sofa and walked across to the table he wrote at. His laptop lay sleeping and his notebook lay closed. If only he could switch himself off so easily.

‘What am I doing?’ he asked himself, echoing Maggie’s angry question. He flipped through the pages of his notebook. Everything was a mess. It usually was, of course – he was a writer who did little in the way of planning – but this mess was even messier than usual. It was a mess without method or merit and that wasn’t any use to anyone.

He looked out into the dark of the landscape beyond his cottage. He had never bought a curtain for this window; there was nobody around to see what he was up to. Now, staring out into the darkness was like staring into his very soul. It was nothing more than a big blank: an empty nothingness that could easily be ignored as he filled his days with work but which would come back to haunt him at night.

You need to talk about it to someone – someone who isn’t Sara
, a little voice inside him said.

‘No, I don’t,’ he said out loud, causing Bounce to question him with a tilt of his head.

All right, then. But you need to talk to Connie – tell her how you feel about her – explain why you’ve been acting the way you have. Tell her the truth!

The truth. That was a terrifying prospect and something he didn’t relish at all especially when he thought he could get away with it. Sara was bound to leave after the furious rowing, wasn’t she? As awful as that made him feel, she wouldn’t want to stay after that. She’d have to see sense and realise that there was no going back for the two of them and then Connie wouldn’t have to know about her, would she?

Alastair got up from his chair. This was no good – arguing in the middle of the night with himself. He drank another glass of water and returned to his bed on the sofa, hoping that, for tonight at least, the nightmares had ended.

Maggie had just opened the shop for the morning and had sneaked through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea when the doorbell went.

‘Maggie?’ a voice called.

‘Mikey?’ She dropped her teabag in the sink and went through to the shop.

‘Is Alastair cross?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie said.

‘Oh, bugger!’ Mikey said, raking a hand through his unkempt hair. ‘I couldn’t get to rehearsals. Was he really furious?’

‘Aye, he was but not with you. I don’t think he even noticed you weren’t there,’ Maggie said cruelly.

‘Didn’t notice?’

‘He’s got other things on his mind like his new leading lady.’

‘Connie? How is she?’

Maggie pursed her lips. ‘Okay.’

Mikey nodded. ‘And how’s Ralph?’

Maggie flinched. So Hamish hadn’t told Mikey about Connie’s disguise then.

‘Ralph’s fine,’ Maggie said, deciding to torment him for a while in an attempt to make him jealous.

Mikey frowned. ‘He’s a bit rough, isn’t he, Mags?’

‘Is he?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ Mikey said, looking concerned.

‘What’s it to you?’

Mikey shrugged. ‘Just looking out for my pal’s little sis.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not little any more in case you hadn’t noticed,’ Maggie snapped.

‘Oh, I’ve noticed,’ Mikey said in a slow, considered manner.

Maggie stared at him. ‘Since when have you noticed anything about me?’

‘What do you mean? I notice things,’ Mikey said.

‘Yeah, like I sell your favourite shortbread or I know where Hamish is at every hour of the day when you need to find him.’

‘Maggie?’

‘What?’

‘You’ve turned all weird again like you were the other day.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes, really,’ Mikey said, taking a step closer. ‘You’re not normally like this.’

‘Aren’t I?’

‘No,’ Mikey said, ‘you’re not. You’re usually sweet and kind and funny.’

‘I don’t like being funny.’

‘But I mean that in a good way,’ Mikey said. ‘You always make me laugh.’

Maggie looked up at him, her eyes large and sad. ‘I don’t want to be laughed at.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Mikey said. ‘You’re twisting my words, Mags. What is it with you lately?’

Maggie took a deep breath. She had his undivided attention and they were alone. She could tell him now. It was a good opportunity. But what could she say? How could she heave such words up from her heart into her mouth and what would he say when she did?

‘What is it?’ Mikey said. ‘You’ve got something on your mind, I can tell.’

Maggie nodded.

‘We’re pals, aren’t we, Mags? You can tell me anything, you know that?’ He took a step towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She felt its warm weight and it was all she could do to stop herself from falling towards him then.

‘Mikey, I—’

‘What?’

‘I – there’s something I want to tell you,’ Maggie said hesitantly. ‘
Need
to tell you—’ She stopped. The doorbell tinkled and in walked Mrs Wallace.

‘Is that your motorbike parked outside, young man?’ she asked Mikey.

‘Yes, it is, Mrs Wallace,’ he said politely.

‘You might have parked it straight. Had to walk right around it, I did,’ she said with a heave of her enormous bosom.

‘Oh,’ Mikey said, ‘sorry about that. I’m just going, anyway.’ He looked at Maggie. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ he asked.

Maggie had retreated behind the counter. ‘Nothing,’ she said with a flap of her hands. ‘It’ll keep.’

‘You sure?’ Mikey asked.

Maggie nodded. It had kept for so many long years already, hadn’t it?

It was after eight o’clock in the evening and the LADS were rehearsing in the village hall. Well, they weren’t so much rehearsing as fighting.

‘What I can’t understand is how
you
don’t understand,’ Alastair said, charging across the stage and grabbing Connie by the shoulders at that evening’s rehearsals. She gasped and everybody else gasped too. ‘This is one of the tenderest scenes in the whole play, Connie. Viola’s desperately in love with Orsino but she can’t tell him – not outright anyway. But she finds a way here. This is her saying, I love you.
I love you
.’

For a moment, silence hung over the village hall as Alastair stood with his hands clenching Connie’s shoulders and she stood staring right back at him, her eyes wide and round like a cartoon character’s.

Finally, he let go of her and she almost fell backwards, sure she was going to have ten perfect bruises to show where his fingers had been. Connie took a deep breath and counted to ten just as she did on-set back in Hollywood when dealing with a difficult director. She was never the sort to erupt unless it was absolutely necessary.

‘And Connie – when you say, “She never told her love”, you’re hurting here because you’re talking about
you!
Do you understand now?’

‘I’m not sure I do,’ Angus said from the back of the hall, ‘and I was up reading it again all last night.’

Alastair scratched his head. His face was screwed up as if he was in pain. ‘Connie!’ he suddenly yelled.

‘What?’ she yelled back.

‘Just act, okay? You’re a professional. You know how to do it, right? You should be telling
us
how to do it, for pity’s sake!’

Connie flinched at the anger in his voice. ‘I’m doing my best!’ she said. ‘This isn’t easy for me. I’m not Judi Dench or Maggie Smith! I’m just me!’

‘Don’t I know it!’ Alastair said. ‘Your trouble is, you’re not used to
real
acting. Real acting isn’t on some set somewhere where you get thirty takes to get four lines right.
Real
acting is in the theatre where you’re standing naked in front of a live, unforgiving audience, hammering out eight performances week after week after week!’

There was a stunned silence.

‘Jeez,’ Alastair muttered. ‘Miss Hollywood!’

Connie’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you call me?’

Alastair looked up and suddenly looked shamefaced.

And that’s when Connie retaliated. ‘You think what I do is easy? You think my kind of acting is all glamour? Well, let me tell you – I work longer hours than any of you guys ever have. I bet you’ve never had to diet to within an inch of your life in order to get a job or have been so bone-tired that you fell asleep in the middle of a scene. You just see the finished product that’s all nice and clean and shiny but you’ve got no idea what goes on behind the scenes! No idea at all!’

‘And you’ve no idea how to handle a real piece of drama,’ Alastair said.

‘All right, guys,’ Euan said, holding his hands in the air. ‘That’s quite enough.’

‘Yeah, stop picking on Connie, Alastair,’ Kirsty said.

‘I’m not picking on her,’ Alastair said.

‘You bloody well are,’ Catriona chipped in.

‘Language, young lady!’ Mrs Wallace said. ‘I’ve never heard the like.’

‘Never heard the like!’ Catriona scoffed. ‘You’ve used much worse to poor old Mr Wallace. I’ve heard you when I’ve walked by at night. Poor old fart. Can’t you let him be and enjoy his retirement without getting on at him every five minutes?’

Kirsty giggled and Mrs Wallace glared at them. ‘I’m not going to stay here and be insulted like this.’

‘No?’ Catriona said. ‘Good!’

They watched as Mrs Wallace fled from the village hall, slamming the door behind her.

‘Poor old Wallace is going to get it now,’ Kirsty said.

‘Girls!’ Alastair yelled from the stage. ‘What on earth’s got into you tonight?’

‘Probably the same thing that’s got into you,’ Euan said, standing up from the chair he’d been commandeering.

‘I doubt that very much,’ Alastair said, looking completely confused.

Connie took the opportunity to leave the stage.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Alastair called after her. ‘Connie? We’ve got a scene to do!’

But Connie had vanished.

‘Let her go, son,’ Euan said.

‘What do you mean? She can’t just walk off like that.’

‘She didn’t walk off,’ Maggie said. ‘You pushed her.’

‘Aye,’ Angus said, ‘and you’re lucky she didn’t give you an earful first, the way you were speakin’ to her.’

Alastair looked from one face to another. ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, jumping down off the stage and marching across the floor towards the door.

‘Alastair, man, let her be,’ Hamish said.

‘Alastair!’ Maggie cried after him but he wasn’t listening. As he left the village hall, he spotted Connie tearing along the main street.

‘Connie!’ he shouted after her.

‘Alastair!’ Maggie shouted after him. The whole of the cast had left the hall and were following Alastair down the street. Nobody wanted to miss this scene.

‘I wouldn’t like to be Alastair now,’ Hamish told Maggie. ‘I mean, I
would
. She’s obviously madly in love with him. Just look at the way they tear each other apart.’

‘But it’s Alastair tearing
her
apart,’ Maggie said.

Hamish shook his head. ‘They’re crazy about each other. You mark my words.’

Alastair broke into a run in an attempt to catch up with Connie, cursing himself for his foolish behaviour and hoping he hadn’t pushed her too far. She could really move when she wanted to and he didn’t want her making it to the B&B and locking herself away in her room before he had a chance to talk to her. He had to try and explain things and tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

‘Connie!’ he called but she didn’t stop. ‘Wait a minute. I just want to talk to you.’ He’d nearly caught up with her. ‘Will it help if I say I’m sorry?’

Alastair had drawn up alongside her now but he didn’t stop, he kept on running, reaching the door of the B&B and blocking it.

‘Get out of my way, Alastair,’ Connie said, her hazel eyes narrowed.

‘I’m staying here until you’ve heard me out.’

‘You couldn’t possibly have anything to say to me worth listening to,’ Connie said, arms crossed over her chest.

‘Oh, you think?’

‘Yes, I do. And you couldn’t possibly say it without raising your voice and completely humiliating me again.’

They stared at each other, eyes locked in stand-off mode.

‘I shouldn’t have spoken like that,’ Alastair said at last.

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ Connie said, trying to sidestep Alastair who moved too quickly for her and blocked her way again.

‘You’re rude, impatient and patronising,’ she said.

‘I am, sadly, all those things.’

Connie nodded. ‘Are you going to get out of my way?’

Alastair shook his head.

‘Fine,’ Connie said, turning and marching down the road again.

‘Connie!’ Alastair cried, leaving the door he’d been guarding and tearing after her. ‘Where are you going?’