Page 13 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

Maura nodded, turning her attention to the list of cocktails and trying to ignore the needle of misgiving in the pit of her stomach. Jamie would be here soon. He wouldn’t let her down.

‘How’s the preparation for ScotPot coming along?’ Fraser asked, when the waiter had taken their drinks order. ‘It’s soon, isn’t it?’

‘It opens on Friday 6th of June and runs over that weekend,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got a few things to finish off – a couple of my seasons pots cracked in the kiln – but as long as the next batch behaves then I should get everything done in time.’

Fraser looked surprised. ‘Why did they crack?’

She shrugged. ‘It could be anything – an issue with the clay, or how I’ve made the pot. They might have dried too quickly, or not quickly enough. The temperature in the kiln might have been off. Basically, it happens and there’s nothing much you can do except try again.’

‘Wow,’ Fraser said. ‘So every time you make something, there’s a chance it might go catastrophically wrong.’

‘Pretty much,’ Maura said. ‘It certainly encourages resilience.’

He laughed. ‘And I thought acting was a brutal business.’

‘At least with pots you know it’s nothing personal,’ Maura replied.

‘It usually isn’t with acting, although I admit it’s hard to remember that when a casting director suggests you lose half a stone.’

Maura gaped at him. As far as she could tell, Fraser was in great shape. ‘No. I thought it was only the women who got told that.’

He shook his head. ‘Nope. But at least losing weight is achievable, if not always desirable. I’ve been told I’m too tall, too short, too old, not old enough. Too Scottish, too hairy and too ordinary.’

The last one almost made Maura sputter with indignation. Whatever else could be levelled at Fraser, he was most certainly not ordinary. ‘How rude.’

‘But that’s just it – none of it was meant as a criticism,’ he said equably.

‘If you’re not right for a role then you’re not right, even if you think you’re perfect for it.

When I was fresh out of drama school, I auditioned for the role of Dexter in One Day .

I hadn’t read the book, had only glanced at my agent’s email and thought they wanted an Edinburgh university student.

It was only after that I realised he’s not Scottish at all, and that the story spans decades. ’

It still felt harsh, even though she accepted the explanation. ‘I hated that film,’ she said. ‘The book was better.’

Fraser’s lips quirked. ‘Actors hear that a lot.’

She waved a hand as long-buried indignation rose inside her. ‘And Dexter was an idiot, anyway. He didn’t deserve Emma.’

‘I’ve clearly touched a nerve,’ Fraser said gravely, as their drinks arrived. ‘I’m glad I didn’t get the part now.’

Maura shook her head decisively. No matter how talented an actor Fraser was, she couldn’t imagine him playing someone as infuriating as Dexter. ‘You should be.’

He winked. ‘I would never have got my Red Rooster card, for a start.’

Maura couldn’t help laughing as the waiter respectfully cleared his throat. ‘Are you ready to order?’

Instantly, Maura’s good humour vanished. She checked the time again. It was almost eight o’clock – where was Jamie? She gave Fraser an embarrassed look. ‘I have no idea how long he’ll be. I think we’d better push on.’

Fraser nodded. ‘He can order when he arrives. What are you going to have, apart from the scallops?’

She glanced at the menu, even though she knew exactly what she wanted. ‘The burrata to start, please,’ she said, and smiled at Fraser. ‘Followed by the scallops in chorizo with potatoes as my main course.’

‘I don’t think I can wait until my main course to sample the scallops,’ Fraser mused as he perused the menu. ‘So I’ll have them as a starter, with the grilled lemon sole to follow, please. Oh, and a bottle of the Bollinger Special Cuvée.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Maura did her best to enjoy the splendid surroundings but it was hard when her insides seethed with stress and annoyance.

Jamie hadn’t returned her call, hadn’t messaged.

When the champagne arrived, and the waiter filled her glass with golden bubbles, she resolved to put Jamie out of her head entirely.

Wherever he was, he wasn’t thinking about her and she refused to let him spoil the evening.

Fraser raised his flute of fizz. ‘To you,’ he said, ‘and your Edinburgh Ghosts. I’m so glad I went to Pete’s party and met you again.’

His gaze was sincere and Maura felt warmth rising in her cheeks as a disconcerting tickle of something rippled out from her belly. She tapped her glass against his. ‘And to you, for coming up with the ghosts in the first place.’

She took a sip, savouring the buttery crispness and trying not to think about how Fraser’s words had made her feel, or to wonder how much the bottle of Bollinger was costing him.

A large chunk of his profits from the sale of the ghosts, if she was any judge.

‘You know you didn’t have to do this,’ she said. ‘Thank me, I mean.’

Fraser put his glass down and studied her.

‘But I wanted to. I know you’ve had to work hard to make the ghosts, and that you’ve had to juggle your work to fit them in.

This is my way of showing you how much I appreciate that.

’ He paused. ‘And I wanted to suggest a slight change to the way we work. How would you feel about a minimum order of forty ghosts every month?’

It wasn’t a change she’d been anticipating but, at the same time, it made sense.

She did some rapid calculations, switching to business mode.

Delivering forty ghosts in thirty days would mean a change to her working pattern but it could be done, if she made them all in one day and fired them over several weeks.

She could make an early start one day a week to get the bulk of the decoration done while the studio was empty.

A regular order would give her a guaranteed income too, providing she could meet the deadline.

‘I think that might work,’ she said cautiously.

‘I don’t suppose I need to ask whether you’re confident you can sell them. ’

‘Easily,’ Fraser said. ‘More, in fact, but I know you have other commitments. I’d like to brainstorm a new design too, maybe after ScotPot. I think people are going to want more than one Edinburgh Ghost.’

It was something Maura had already thought about, although she hadn’t got much further than acknowledging the need for a fresh design. The idea of coming up with a new ghost with Fraser pleased her. ‘Okay. We can definitely do that, once ScotPot is out of the way.’

Their starters arrived and Maura gave her full attention to the oozy perfection of the burrata, with its drizzle of piquant pesto to offset the creaminess of the cheese.

Fraser pronounced the scallops delicious, easily as good as the ones he’d eaten on Orkney itself.

The conversation flowed as freely as the champagne, so that by the time their main courses arrived, the bottle was empty and Maura was feeling more than a little tipsy.

‘What next?’ Fraser asked, as the waiter cleared the champagne bucket. ‘Wine?’

‘Water, for now,’ Maura said, taking a long sip. ‘But maybe a small glass of white to go with the scallops.’

He nodded. ‘I had an interesting meeting last week. You remember I told you about the guy who turned up at one of my tours and invited me to a networking event at the council?’

‘I remember,’ she said. ‘How did it go?’

‘Really well,’ Fraser said. ‘I met someone from Edinburgh Castle who asked me to take part in a supernatural storytelling night in July.’

Maura beamed at him. ‘That’s excellent, although I’m not surprised they’ve snapped you up. Well done.’

He inclined his head. ‘Thanks. But the reason I’m telling you about it is because the guy from the castle – Ewan McRae – was very impressed by your ghost. He went so far as to say that they might be interested in commissioning one especially for the castle.’

‘What?’ she said, blinking. ‘But… that’s—’

‘I know, you’re working flat out as it is,’ he said, raising his hands. ‘It’s all just a thought at the moment, probably a long way down the road if it even happens. But what I did think was there might be scope to get you your own exhibition there.’

And now Maura’s mouth fell open. Edinburgh Castle was the city’s flagship tourist attraction – they did not allow just anyone space to exhibit there. ‘But…’ she began, and then marshalled her thoughts. ‘What kind of exhibition?’

‘That’s up to you,’ Fraser said. ‘As I said, Ewan liked the ghost. If my storytelling event goes well, I don’t see why we can’t arrange for you to meet him. I get the feeling they’re very keen to support local artists – you’d be perfect.’

She sat back in her seat, trying to take everything in. Her work was mostly inspired by nature and the sea. Could she produce something that would reflect the castle in some way?

Fraser sat forward to catch her eye. ‘It’s just an idea. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

Maura’s thoughts flew back to Jamie’s observations that her career had stalled. He couldn’t level that accusation if she had an exhibition at the castle. But was it a coup Fraser could actually pull off? She met his gaze and managed a smile. ‘It’s definitely something I’d consider.’

He nodded. ‘Good. Your work is so incredible. It deserves to be seen by loads more people.’

Blushing, she was saved from having to answer by the arrival of their main courses. Fraser ordered a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé, because it did not come by the glass. ‘We don’t have to drink it all,’ he said.

Maura shook her head. Jamie was something of a wine buff and she knew Pouilly-Fumé was not the kind of wine to be left unfinished. ‘You might have to roll me home but we’re definitely drinking it all.’

Fraser laughed. ‘Maybe we’ll get you a cab.’