Page 2 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

On a clear day, the view across Edinburgh from Calton Hill was unbeatable. Rising steeply at the eastern end of Princes Street, it was not as tall as neighbouring Arthur’s Seat, but it was home to a charming hodge-podge of centuries-old structures.

Maura had fond memories of childhood picnics where she and her sister had chased each other through the Doric columns of the unfinished National Monument, and around the upside-down telescope tower that commemorated Lord Nelson, but her favourite had been the green domed observatory, which she imagined held all the stars during the day, to be released like twinkling fireflies after dark.

In the distance, the castle crouched on its craggy outcrop, part of a panorama that was especially spectacular around sunset. It was early evening now, and the gentle April sunshine had enticed plenty of people to take in the views.

‘I can’t believe I’ve lived in Edinburgh for over a year and never been up here,’ Zoe said, slightly out of breath as she gazed around. ‘Although that climb nearly finished me off. You’d think my legs would be used to it by now, wouldn’t you?’

She meant the city’s infamously up and down topography, criss-crossed by countless vertigo-inducing staircases that made navigating the city quicker, if not necessarily easier.

Many a tourist could be spotted taking a breather halfway up Granny’s Green Steps while attempting a shortcut to the castle from Grassmarket, as the locals trotted by with all the stamina and sure-footedness of mountain goats.

‘You should try running up Jacob’s Ladder, over by Waverley Station,’ Maura said dryly.

‘Jamie sometimes does it for training and made me try it once. I thought I was actually going to die.’

Zoe looked faintly horrified. ‘You train with the rugby team?’

‘Not anymore,’ Maura hurriedly assured her. ‘This was back in the early days of our relationship. When I was trying to impress him.’

Her friend grimaced. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever fancied anyone enough for that. But it obviously did the trick with Jamie.’

‘I think he mostly felt sorry for me,’ Maura admitted, recalling the consternation in Jamie’s eyes as she’d puffed and wheezed. ‘We don’t exercise together now.’

‘Liam’s never suggested it,’ Zoe said, referring to her own boyfriend, who played at the same rugby club as Jamie. ‘He prefers a different type of workout where I’m concerned.’

She raised her eyebrows, leaving Maura in no doubt exactly what kind of exercise she meant. That was something else she and Jamie didn’t do as much anymore, although perhaps it was to be expected after five years together. ‘Things are going well, then?’

Zoe shrugged as they began to amble along the path that wound around the top of the hill. ‘Sure. There are times I wish Liam was a bit less devoted to the club, but I imagine all the other wives and girlfriends feel the same.’

After only a fractional hesitation, Maura nodded.

She’d never begrudged Jamie the considerable time he spent training, playing and socialising with his Inverleith Warriors teammates, mostly because it allowed her the freedom to pursue her own interests, which had mostly involved hanging out in her studio, coaxing reluctant clay into something more beautiful.

‘It’s part of who they are,’ she said. ‘And there are upsides.’

‘Totally,’ Zoe responded, her eyes lighting up. ‘A ready-made social life, for a start. Very helpful when you’ve just changed jobs and moved more than halfway across the country.’

That was certainly true. Maura had never felt anything less than welcome at the rugby club, despite preferring to hang out on the fringes of the social scene. It must have been perfect for someone like Zoe, who was bubbly and keen on joining in. ‘They’re a decent bunch.’

‘I know,’ Zoe said. ‘I fell on my feet when I met Liam. But how about you and Jamie – any chance of a Warriors wedding soon?’

It wasn’t the first time Maura had been asked that question – her own family, or at least her sister, Kirsty, had been demanding to know when there might be wedding bells for at least the past two years – but she could honestly say it wasn’t something she’d given much thought to.

Apart from anything else, getting married was notoriously expensive and there always seemed to be something else to save for.

It helped that Jamie had never shown any inclination to propose, in spite of a steady stream of invitations to friends’ weddings…

but Maura had no plans to rock the boat.

She shook her head. ‘Jamie has his eye on a fancy new apartment,’ she said, feeling like a politician dodging an awkward question. ‘We went to see a couple at the weekend.’

Zoe could not resist the bait. ‘Are you selling your place, then?’ she asked, her eyes widening. ‘You’ll make a fortune if you do, Dean Village is very sought-after.’

She sounded like an estate agent, Maura thought, but it wasn’t anything she didn’t already know.

Jamie had repeatedly tried to draw her attention to Edinburgh’s soaring property values but she had so far resisted his encouragement to have the apartment valued, pointing out that half the money would go to Kirsty, since their late aunt had left it to both of them.

The subject had caused several heated disagreements in recent weeks.

‘We haven’t decided yet. It’s early days.’

‘You could always rent it out,’ Zoe suggested as they reached the crest of the hill. ‘You’d get good money that way too.’

It wasn’t the worst idea, Maura had to admit.

The thought of a regular income was appealing; being a ceramic artist was not a career that lent itself to predictable earnings, although her weekly pottery classes helped.

But the thought of anyone else living in the flat above her studio made her stomach clench.

‘Maybe. Jamie wanted to see what was out there.’

Zoe nodded. ‘There are some really nice developments over Leith way. Is that where you looked?’

Maura knew all about the redevelopment of Leith, the port area out towards the eastern side of the city, because her new business partner, Fraser, had told her about it, but she knew Jamie wanted to stay near the city centre. ‘No, in New Town,’ she told Zoe. ‘Those high-rise developments.’

Just saying the words made her spirits droop.

Jamie had wanted to see the penthouse, of course, and Maura would be the first to concede the show flat had been luxurious, with enviable views over Edinburgh.

But as the estate agent had waxed lyrical about the virtues of the modern building, she’d allowed her gaze to roam around the fresh white walls and across the sparkling black tiled floor.

With the blinds closed, they might have been anywhere, in any city.

There was no quirky Edinburgh architecture, no sense of the city’s rich history and importance across the centuries.

She couldn’t help feeling it was all a bit soulless.

‘Very nice,’ Zoe said, looking impressed. ‘Jamie’s got great taste.’

Maura dredged up a smile, just as she had when he asked her what she’d thought as they strolled back to the cobbled streets of Dean Village. ‘He’d be delighted to hear you say so.’

‘Exciting, too,’ Zoe said, and sighed. ‘I’m a tiny bit jealous.’

If only she knew, Maura thought but didn’t say. ‘Mmmm.’

But it seemed Zoe picked up on her lack of enthusiasm, because she gave her a sidelong look. ‘So what else have you been up to? How’s the new business venture going? Enjoying working with Fraser?’

Maura’s gaze settled on a small child clambering onto the Portuguese cannon to the left of the path, with the help of her mother.

Running into her old schoolmate, Fraser Bell, on New Year’s Eve had led to him getting in touch with a business proposition.

But after the initial flurry of communication that had surrounded the design of a prototype ceramic ghost to go with his Dead Famous walking tour, and signing the agreement he’d sent over, she hadn’t heard anything from Fraser for almost four weeks now.

It wasn’t necessarily a surprise – she’d told him it would take that long to produce the twenty ghosts he’d ordered and she assumed he was giving her the space to do the work – but there was a part of her that expected he might check in to see how things were going.

As the days passed, she began to worry that his silence meant the pre-orders he had been so confident about generating had not materialised.

The price he’d set seemed a lot for something so small, even though she knew exactly how much work had gone into producing Agnes the Sea Witch.

She’d had to give herself more than one stern talking to as the weeks went by; her job was to make the ghosts. It was up to Fraser to sell them.

‘I’ve almost finished the batch,’ she said cautiously. ‘They’ve been fun to make.’

‘It’s such a clever idea,’ Zoe enthused. ‘I might have to buy one myself, and try one of his ghost walks around the city. How was the one you went on – any good?’

‘Oh, it was great,’ Maura replied warmly, because Fraser’s storytelling had been impressive, skilfully drawing his audience in with a delicious blend of history and the macabre. ‘He was turning people away.’

‘I suppose it helps that he looks like he does,’ Zoe observed. ‘He could probably sell pebbles to Brighton beach with that face.’

There was no denying Fraser’s good looks; tall, blond-haired and bearded, he exuded an easy self-confidence that drew people in.

He’d been much the same at school, as Maura recalled only too well, and it hadn’t been much of a surprise to discover he’d gone on to become an actor.

She’d looked up some of his television work and it had been clear the camera loved him.

He had something about him – more than great bone structure and a dazzling smile – and Maura could easily imagine that it might contribute to the success of the ghost tours too.

She certainly hadn’t been immune to that charisma at school, despite the fact that they’d hardly ever spoken.

And then there’d been a single chance encounter outside an Edinburgh pub when they’d both been back from university for Christmas, a drunken kiss that Fraser had no idea had even happened.

The memory had come flooding back to Maura the moment she’d heard his name and she’d spent no small amount of energy trying to forget it since.

‘As long as he sells the ghosts to Edinburgh’s tourists first,’ she told Zoe dryly.

‘It doesn’t sound like that’s going to be a problem, if he’s as good at telling stories as you say,’ Zoe said. ‘You’re a perfect match.’

She meant in business – Maura knew she meant in business – but it didn’t stop an uncomfortable surge of warmth from rising in her cheeks.

‘We’ll see,’ she said, a touch more abruptly than she intended, and decided it was time to change the subject.

She pointed to the Dugald Stewart monument, a gothic confection of a bandstand framed against the start of a promising sunset.

‘That’s the shot you want for Instagram.

Let’s grab it now before the influencers notice. ’

Jamie hadn’t returned from training by the time Maura got home, just before ten o’clock.

She’d introduced Zoe to Café St Honoré, her favourite French bistro tucked away on Thistle Street, and they’d stayed later than she’d expected, due in no small part to the irresistible dessert menu.

Afterwards, she’d caught the bus back to Dean Village, too full of excellent food and a decent bottle of red to feel like walking, and had stood for a moment in the silent apartment, before retracing her steps down the stairs and letting herself into her studio.

The kiln had been cooling for more than twenty-four hours.

The items within would be ready to remove but Maura had no intention of emptying it after a glass or two of wine – that kind of recklessness could easily lead to disaster.

But she couldn’t resist lifting the lid to check on the final cluster of glazed ghosts.

They were mixed in with pieces made by her students, dotted among the mugs, jugs, and tea light holders.

She’d used a template to make them the same size but each one was subtly different; some had floatier folds, others had barnacles between the painted fronds of seaweed decoration. One or two had mournful green eyes. All were marked with her initials.

She surveyed them for a moment, her fingers itching to lift them out for a proper look, but she resisted the urge.

If she dropped one, she wouldn’t have enough to deliver to Fraser, and she was conscious she had kept him waiting already.

Worse still, she might drop something made by one of her students and would have to endure their disappointment when she explained what had happened.

For now, it was enough to look upon the treasures inside the kiln and know that she could examine each one in detail the following morning with sober hands.

Once she was sure these last ghosts hadn’t cracked or failed in the firing, she could message Fraser and let him know his order was complete and ready for collection.

The thought made her nerves thrum with excitement and trepidation at the same time, but she felt that way whenever she delivered commissioned work to a client – there was always a chance it wasn’t quite what they’d had in mind.

But she doubted that would be the case with Fraser.

The ghosts were different in subtle ways, with an individuality that only came from being handmade, but they were all recognisably Agnes the Sea Witch and, despite her misgivings, Maura found she was very much looking forward to seeing Fraser’s reaction to the finished pieces.

She could only hope he’d managed to sell some.