Page 14 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

The scallops in Maura’s main course were as exquisite as those in Fraser’s starter, although she thought the chorizo enhanced their salty goodness.

She savoured each mouthful, marvelling at how well they paired with the crisp dryness of the wine he had chosen.

He offered her a taste of his lemon sole and that was delicious too, the white flakes melting into the beurre blanc sauce.

He made her laugh with tales of his golf-mad father, and she countered with stories of her mother’s obsession with uncovering the identity of the mystery yarn bombers.

It wasn’t until they had almost finished eating that Maura saw Fraser’s expression shift. ‘I think that’s Jamie, isn’t it?’

She followed his gaze to the entrance of the dining room and her good humour evaporated.

It was Jamie, and she knew in an instant that he was drunk.

The signs weren’t obvious – a casual observer would have no idea – but there was a looseness about the way his arms hung by his side, a barely perceptible sway as he glanced around the room until he found her.

He wasn’t unsteady but she knew with cold certainty the reason he was so unforgivably late. ‘Oh god.’

Fraser’s eyes immediately returned to her. ‘What’s wrong?’

She ran a hand over her face and tried not to watch as the waiter led Jamie towards them. ‘He’s been drinking.’

Fraser smiled. ‘That’s okay. So have we. He can help us finish the wine.’

The smile she summoned up felt brittle. ‘You don’t understand. He can be a bit—’

And then Jamie was beside them, with the waiter hovering nearby, as though asking the unspoken question about whether they knew this man. ‘Maura,’ Jamie said, and bent down to kiss her. ‘I’m so sorry. It was Richard’s leaving drinks – I only meant to stay for one.’

A waft of fumes washed over Maura as she turned her cheek to divert the kiss. She detected hops and the unmistakeably sour scent of whisky. ‘It’s almost nine o’clock. You’ve missed the meal.’

Jamie looked down at the plates. ‘Shit. Sorry.’

Fraser stood up and held out a hand. ‘It’s no bother. I’m Fraser Bell. Nice to meet you at last.’

For one awful moment, Maura thought Jamie would ignore him. Behind Jamie, the waiter also seemed to be holding his breath, although his face was implacable. But after several long seconds, Jamie took Fraser’s hand. ‘Good to meet you too. Maura’s told me all about you.’

Fraser smiled. ‘Will you have a seat? Join us for a glass of something?’

Jamie nodded. The waiter pulled back the chair and he sank into it, slumping against the back in a way that made Maura want to groan. ‘Whisky, on the rocks. Make it a large one.’

‘Thanks, that’s all for now,’ Fraser said, when the waiter turned a politely frozen look his way.

Once he’d gone, Jamie eyed the empty seat beside Fraser with a frown. ‘Maura says you’ve got a girlfriend. Where is she?’

A sudden spike of anxiety stabbed through Maura.

Most of the time, Jamie was an amiable drunk, but whisky sometimes brought out the meaner side of his personality.

He’d never been the jealous type but she suddenly didn’t want him to know that Fraser and Naomi were no longer together.

Her eyes met Fraser’s and she gave the faintest shake of her head, hoping he would get the message.

‘At home with the flu,’ Fraser said smoothly. ‘She’s spent most of the day asleep, poor thing.’

Jamie raised his eyebrows. ‘And she doesn’t mind that you’re out wining and dining another woman? She sounds like a rare breed.’

‘Jamie!’ Maura objected, her face flushing as the couple at the neighbouring table turned to look. ‘How many times do I have to remind you that this is a business meeting?’

His gaze came to rest on the bottle of wine. ‘Looks like one.’

The waiter placed a tumbler of whisky on the table in front of Jamie, who snatched it up and took a large swig. ‘Good stuff,’ he said, baring his teeth. ‘I’ll have another.’

The waiter glanced at Fraser, who nodded. Maura felt her mortification rising. Other diners were glancing their way now and leaning towards each other to whisper.

‘We were about to get the bill, actually.’

Jamie studied the plate in front of her. ‘You haven’t even finished your main course. You wanted me to come and support you, now stop being such a killjoy and eat your food.’

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fraser’s expression harden.

She picked up her cutlery and began to eat what remained of her now cold scallops.

Thankfully, he took his cue from her and did the same with his fish.

With a bit of luck, if they forewent dessert and coffee, they could leave before Jamie embarrassed her any further.

‘I hear you used to be an actor,’ Jamie said, after another gulp of whisky. ‘Have you been in anything I would have seen?’

Fraser reached for his wine glass. ‘No.’

‘Nothing?’ Jamie said. ‘That explains why you’re making a living peddling ghost stories to tourists.’

‘Jamie,’ Maura snapped.

‘It’s okay,’ Fraser said with a bland smile. ‘In fact, it’s not a million miles from the truth. I fell out of love with the job, and it’s not something you can do if your heart’s not in it.’

Maura wasn’t sure Jamie would understand what he meant – he was good at his job but she didn’t think he loved it.

For him, work was something he did to enable him to do the things he did love, like play rugby.

But she also knew he viewed it as a way of establishing status.

To Jamie, acting was a high-status career.

Running a walking tour business was not, and the lazy smile he aimed Fraser’s way told Maura that was exactly what he was thinking.

‘Each to their own, I suppose,’ he said, and drained his glass.

Forcing herself to swallow the last bite of scallop, Maura laid her cutlery upon her plate. ‘That was delicious,’ she told Fraser. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’ll have to get yourself to Orkney sometime – taste them fresh from the sea,’ he said. ‘A friend of mine was filming up there a few years ago and he couldn’t get enough of them.’

‘I’ll add it to my list,’ Maura said.

A brief silence fell, during which she saw Jamie watching Fraser through narrowed eyes. ‘How were the leaving drinks?’ she asked, to head off any danger of another insulting insinuation. ‘I’m not sure I know Richard.’

Jamie shrugged. ‘He works in the compliance team. He’s moving to the New York office, lucky sod.’ He brightened as the waiter reappeared with his drink. ‘I’ll say one thing for this place, the service is fast.’

The briefest flicker of a smile crossed the waiter’s face. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He turned to Fraser. ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’

‘No, thank you,’ Fraser said, after a quick glance at Maura. ‘Just the bill, when you’re ready.’

Jamie huffed out a breath. ‘Why do I feel like I’ve gate-crashed a private party?’ His voice was too loud and once again, heads turned their way.

‘You were invited,’ Maura said pointedly. ‘You just arrived too late to join in.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I said I was sorry. I couldn’t get away.’

Maura pressed her lips together, determined not to be drawn.

Fraser cleared his throat. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be a minute.’ Flashing Maura a sympathetic smile, he edged around the table and was gone.

Jamie leaned back in his chair. ‘I hope you got your money’s worth.’ The words were slurred now, and he’d abandoned any attempt to keep the volume down.

Briefly, she closed her eyes. ‘It was a very nice meal.’

He glanced around. ‘The tour business must be doing all right if he can afford to bring you here. Shame his girlfriend couldn’t make it. Or do you think he wanted you all to himself?’

‘He would hardly have invited you, in that case.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ he rumbled. ‘I’m not sure I trust him, though.’

‘Mmmm,’ Maura said vaguely, wishing the waiter would hurry up with the bill. The sooner it was paid, the sooner she could get Jamie outside – hopefully before they were politely asked to leave. But the bill did not appear and suddenly Fraser was back.

‘I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a cab,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

Maura stared at him in consternation. ‘But the bill—’

‘All taken care of,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I settled up just now.’

She wanted to hug him. Instead, she offered him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. We can all head out together, and then I’ll jump on the tram back to Leith.’

Jamie looked up from his drink. ‘What’s this? The party’s over already?’

Maura nodded. ‘Time to go home.’

She half-expected him to argue but the sight of Fraser pulling on his jacket seemed to satisfy him that it was indeed time to go.

Draining the rest of his drink, he stood up and swayed alarmingly.

Maura clutched at his arm to steady him, as the couple at the table next to him leaned back. ‘Let’s go,’ she said firmly.

It was a minor miracle that they reached the street without knocking into any tables or stumbling up the stairs.

Out on Castlehill, night had fallen and the air was chilly.

Maura wrapped her coat around herself as she peered along the street in search of the cab.

Fraser caught the gesture. ‘The ma?tre d’ said it was on its way. ’

She nodded, watching Jamie carefully. The fresh air seemed to have hit him hard; he was much more unsteady than he had been inside the restaurant. She hoped he would straighten up when the taxi arrived. City centre cabbies were distinctly no-nonsense when it came to drunk passengers.

Fraser had also noticed Jamie’s sudden deterioration. ‘Are you going to be okay getting him home on your own?’

She puffed out her cheeks. ‘As long as he can manage the stairs.’

A car drew slowly alongside them, the driver peering out at them. ‘Cab for Fraser Bell?’

‘That’s us,’ Fraser said, opening one of the rear doors. ‘Hop in, Jamie.’

Maura tugged on his arm. ‘Jamie. The taxi’s here. Get in.’