Page 12 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

Maura read the message from Fraser three times before she got the better of her surprise. She looked up at Jamie, who was glued to a documentary at the other end of the sofa. ‘We’ve been invited out for dinner.’

He didn’t take his eyes from the television. ‘By who?’

‘Fraser,’ she said. ‘As a thank you for all the work I’ve put in making the ghosts.’

Jamie frowned. ‘Why does he need to thank you? He’s paying you, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Maura said patiently. ‘But I suppose it’s a bit like all those times you wine and dine clients on behalf of the bank. You want them to feel valued.’

‘But they’re multimillion-pound clients,’ he objected. ‘They’re not pottery teachers knocking out a few bits and bobs on the side for some guy they went to school with.’

The words were casually uttered but they still felt like a kick to the stomach. Maura stared at him, wondering whether she could possibly have misheard. ‘Sorry?’

He glanced at her. ‘You have to admit, I’m right. You do mostly teach these days, and the ghosts are hardly going to relaunch your career, are they?’

A roaring began In her ears. He’d always been so proud of her work – when had that changed? When the solo exhibitions began to dry up? ‘I have work on display at several galleries,’ she said, swallowing hard. ‘I’m selected for ScotPot every year. I wasn’t aware my career needed to be relaunched.’

‘What I mean is that you don’t seem to have the same ambition you did a few years ago.

’ He sighed. ‘But you’re obviously happy with what you’re doing so it doesn’t really matter.

I’m just not sure it’s appropriate for this guy to suggest selling a handful of trinkets to tourists is anything to celebrate. ’

The worst of it was that his words echoed Maura’s own early doubts, causing her to gnaw at her lip.

It wasn’t the first time she’d worried the ghosts weren’t worth the price Fraser put on them.

But the fact that they’d sold, and sold well, had proved her fears wrong, as had the reaction of Eilish at the gallery.

And the additional income had been welcome.

Jamie might think making the ghosts was somehow beneath her, but Maura had no intention of giving them up.

Not while Fraser still wanted her to make them.

She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly.

‘Firstly, his name is Fraser, and he’s my business partner – you could try to be a bit more respectful.

And secondly, I do enjoy teaching but it’s only a small part of what I do.

I’m sorry that my career isn’t what you expected it to be but there’s no need to belittle it. ’

Jamie’s eyes flashed. ‘I didn’t—’

‘Yes, you did,’ she cut in. ‘Suggesting that I’m knocking out trinkets for tourists is belittling, Jamie, and I’d really appreciate it if you could avoid insulting Fraser in the same way.’

‘If that’s how you feel then maybe I’d better not come.’

‘That’s fine,’ Maura fired back. ‘I’ll go on my own. But don’t expect me to play the dutiful girlfriend at your next work party.’

He scowled. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous. It’s hardly the same.’

Maura thought she might explode. Was he being deliberately obtuse?

‘It’s exactly the same! I go to your work things when you ask because I want to be supportive, but apparently that’s not a two-way thing.

’ She raised her chin. ‘When was the last time you came to a pottery show or exhibition of mine?’

‘You can hardly expect me to turn up to every church hall craft fair.’

‘ScotPot isn’t a craft fair,’ she cried, throwing her hands up. ‘It’s one of the most prestigious ceramics shows in Scotland.’

‘But you’ve never asked me to go,’ he growled.

‘I don’t ask my parents or Kirsty to go, either, but they still turn up.

’ She took another breath and tried to get her temper under control.

‘But I’m not even asking you to come to ScotPot.

I’m asking you to come for dinner with my business partner and his girlfriend, to celebrate how well it’s gone. Is that really too much to expect?’

His jaw bunched as he glared at her and she thought he was going to launch another furious objection. But he surprised her. ‘No,’ he muttered after several mutinous seconds had ticked by. ‘I suppose not.’

The submission took the wind out of Maura’s sails. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Good.’

‘Tell me where and when and I’ll be there,’ he said, although his tone wasn’t entirely free from resentment.

She checked her phone. ‘He’s suggesting Monday evening, at The Witchery. Seven-thirty.’

‘Fine,’ Jamie said, and levered himself up from the sofa. ‘I’m going to the rugby club.’

Maura watched him leave the room, her own anger and adrenaline seeping away.

She’d had no idea he had such scant regard for her work, or so little interest in supporting her, but the way he had sneered about Fraser and the ghosts troubled her deeply.

She might have won the battle in demanding that Jamie join them for dinner, but she was starting to suspect it was part of a war she’d had no idea she was fighting until now.

The Witchery by the Castle was an old-fashioned restaurant tucked away in the grand sandstone buildings at the very top of the Royal Mile.

Maura had only eaten there once, for her parents’ silver wedding anniversary, but the burnished oxblood leather seats and ornate oak-panelled ceiling had made an impression.

It was often booked up for months in the evenings, especially when the city was thronging with visitors, and she thought Fraser must have pulled some strings or called in a favour to get a dinner reservation with barely a week’s notice.

But somehow he had managed it and he was already waiting for her beside the entrance to Boswell’s Court when she arrived ten minutes early.

He was facing away from her, gazing up at the looming castle, and she took a moment to appreciate the smart grey suit he was wearing.

She’d never seen him formally attired – school uniform definitely didn’t count – but she wasn’t surprised to note that it suited him.

Then again, he was an actor, she reminded herself.

He could probably carry off most things.

The sight of him made her glad she’d made an effort too; her knee-length red woollen dress was understated but elegant, even if it did keep clinging to her tights.

‘Hello,’ she called as she approached.

He turned immediately, his expression lighting up. ‘Hello yourself. How are you?’

‘Hungry,’ she said truthfully. ‘I seem to remember some especially fine Orkney scallops last time I was here and I’ve been looking forward to them all day.’

Fraser tipped his head. ‘Good recommendation.’ He glanced enquiringly over her shoulder down Castlehill. ‘Is Jamie on his way?’

‘He is,’ Maura said, hoping she was right. She hadn’t heard from him since lunchtime, when she’d messaged to remind him not to be late and he’d responded with the eyeroll emoji. ‘Has Naomi been held up?’

An uncomfortable expression flashed across Fraser’s face, followed by a rueful smile. ‘She won’t be joining us, I’m afraid. We… uh… split up a few weeks ago.’

Maura stared at him in shocked sympathy. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I meant to tell you but things have been so busy. She was finding it hard being so far from London and we agreed it was best if we went our separate ways. All quite amicable and grown-up.’

She eyed him suspiciously. He sounded matter of fact but she wondered if he was taking it as well as he seemed to be. ‘Even so, a break-up takes its toll. Are you sure you’re okay?’

He smiled. ‘I’m sure. Things had been tricky for a while, to be honest. I think Edinburgh was a bit too melancholy for her.’

‘Well, I’m still sorry,’ Maura said. ‘And I’m sure you have loads of friends, but if you ever need anyone to talk to—’

She broke off as his gaze met hers with frank honesty. ‘That’s kind of you, Maura. But really, I’m fine.’

‘Okay,’ she said, reassured that he didn’t seem to be pining from a broken heart. ‘So, just the three of us.’

Fraser nodded. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Jamie properly. I saw him at the New Year’s Eve party, of course, but didn’t get to say hello.’

‘Probably a good thing,’ Maura said, remembering how many shots Jamie and his rugby mates had downed. ‘He’ll be much better company this evening.’

But as her watch ticked round to seven-thirty, her faith in him began to wane.

He couldn’t have forgotten. She checked her phone.

There was no text to say he was running late.

There was nothing at all. She stabbed at the screen, calling him.

Her cheeks grew hot as it went to answerphone.

She hung up, not trusting herself to leave a jolly ‘Where are you?’ message.

Fraser cleared his throat. ‘We should probably go in. They won’t save the table for long.’

Maura peered down Castlehill, hoping to see Jamie’s tall frame puffing towards them, and sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’

The dining room was every bit as gothic as she remembered.

The deep red seating was studded with brass.

Each table was lit by flickering white candles in tall brass holders.

Discreet wall lights added to their glow but the atmosphere was unmistakeably intimate.

Carved satyrs cavorted among curling leaves across the beams above their heads and tapestry drapes hung at intervals.

Their waiter led them to their table, which had been laid for three, and Maura felt a small whoosh of relief at the detail.

The Witchery had a romantic reputation. If it had been just her and Fraser, they might have been mistaken for a couple.

‘So, what will you have to drink?’ Fraser asked, offering her the menu. ‘Champagne is definitely in order but we should wait for Jamie to get here.’