The Runaway Actress

‘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 said, nodding. ‘Well, I don’t get quite as much fan mail as you do.’

Connie didn’t laugh. ‘My fans write to you here?’

‘Yes. The address is on the website – look.’ Maggie woke the computer up and found the relevant page. ‘The fan site’s going from strength to strength. We get so many visitors now and I do my best to keep them coming back with the journal updates.’

Connie began reading the contact page of the website, her face slowly turning to a menacing paleness.

‘You charge for the photographs?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘Ten pounds. They’re beautiful – real value for money – ten by eight glossies. Here,’ she said, opening the folder.

‘I’ve seen them.’ Connie said, looking at the screen again. ‘It says here that they’re signed.’

Maggie nodded, biting her lip. She had a feeling she knew what was coming.

Connie turned to face Maggie. ‘Would you mind telling me what’s going on here?’

‘It’s the fan club,’ Maggie said. ‘We send out signed photographs of you to those who ask for them.’

‘But who signs them?’

There was a pause before Maggie answered. ‘Me,’ she said.

Connie’s mouth dropped open. ‘You? You sign the photos – in my name?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m very good. Look,’ she said, pulling a piece of paper out from a drawer and signing across it with her big black pen before handing it to Connie, who studied it through narrowed eyes.

‘Good?’ Maggie asked.

Connie looked up. ‘You forge my signature?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t call it forge—’

‘And sell these photos – these copyrighted photos – for money?’

‘Oh, the money isn’t for me!’ Maggie said quickly. ‘It’s for the LADS.’

‘What lads?’

‘The Lochnabrae Amateur Dramatics Society. We have a hall – it’s really run-down – and the profits from the signed photographs go towards its upkeep.’

Connie slowly shook her head. ‘But this is all wrong, Maggie. You can’t go on doing this. People think these photos have been signed by me.’

‘Isn’t my signature good enough? I thought I’d got it about right now.’

‘But that isn’t the issue here!’ Connie said. ‘People are paying because they think I’m signing the photos.’

‘But you’re too busy. We didn’t want to bother you with them. And I’ve heard of movie stars’ secretaries signing things for them or awful photocopied signatures being sent out too.’

‘I’m not arguing with that. That happens a lot but – well – this just doesn’t seem right. You’ve got to see that!’

Maggie looked down at the carpet and shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Is your tea all right?’

‘Maggie!’

‘What?’ She looked up. Connie’s face had turned quite pink.

‘What else has been going on here?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Have you been selling other things?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Buying knickers and selling them as having been worn by Connie Gordon?’

Maggie looked as if she’d just been punched. ‘No! I’d never do anything like that!’

‘Are you sure?’ Connie got up from the chair and started looking around the room. It was then that her eye caught something and her face instantly froze.

‘Mortimer!’

‘What?’ Maggie said.

‘What are you doing with Mortimer?’

Maggie turned and saw what Connie was looking at. ‘The teddy?’

‘Yes! What’s it doing here?’

‘I bought it online last year. The seller said you’d auctioned it for charity and they’d bought it.’

Connie’s face now changed from pink to a frightening shade of red. ‘That’s a lie!’ she said, crossing the room and grabbing the stuffed toy from the shelf. ‘I never sold this bear. It’s a childhood toy and it went missing two years ago along with other personal items. I was suspicious of my housemaid and fired her. Things stopped going missing after that.’

‘Oh, Connie! I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’