Page 7 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

On Saturdays, there was a market at Dock Place and the square was filled with cheerful yellow and white canopies as the stallholders tried to tempt the locals to part with their hard-earned cash.

It was mostly food, as far as Fraser could tell – fresh bread, seafood, cheese and meat seemed to do especially well, but he saw the occasional craft stall selling handmade cards and other arty goods.

It drew a good crowd, even on the days when the weather did not cooperate.

Fraser liked to wander through in the morning, when Naomi was still asleep, and pick up something tempting for breakfast. But since she was still in London, he had no one to please but himself and bought a sweet and buttery crepe to eat as he browsed, and a smoky fish pie for lunch.

He passed a pottery stall and lingered to study the pieces offered for sale.

There was nothing wrong with them – the mugs looked perfectly serviceable and the tea light holders were cute – but Fraser couldn’t help comparing them to Maura’s work and finding them wanting.

He moved on without buying anything, then guiltily remembered Maura’s description of watching people pass her own stand without buying.

He doubled back then and bought a small wax melt burner that he thought his mum would like.

He spent the afternoon on paperwork, catching up on some admin that was long overdue and drafting the latest edition of the Dead Famous walking tour newsletter for distribution.

The next batch of ghosts from Maura would clear the waiting list and leave a handful for general sale – he was tempted to promote the ones that remained to his subscribers.

But Maura had made it clear that the full order would take six weeks to fulfil and Fraser was reluctant to take orders so far in advance.

He settled for advising Edinburgh Ghost fans to keep an eye on the Dead Famous social media channels for news of upcoming sales.

When his phone rang around four o’clock, he was surprised to see Naomi’s number on the screen.

They’d last spoken on Thursday, when she told him she was staying in London for the weekend.

Perhaps her plans had changed, he thought as he accepted the call.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How’s life in the big city? ’

‘It’s good,’ she said. ‘I ran into your agent last night, at the Ivy. He asked me to check whether you’d seen his email last week. He said it was important. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?’

Fraser thought guiltily about the email he’d deleted without opening. ‘Something about an audition,’ he said. ‘I need to remind him not to bother sending those through. Apart from anything else, I don’t have time.’

‘But what if it’s a big role?’ Naomi asked, and Fraser thought he detected a faint undercurrent of horror in her voice. ‘You’ll miss out.’

‘Then I’ll miss out,’ Fraser replied firmly. ‘Besides, how would I spare the time? The tours are selling out every night – Tom says he had to turn people away all week and I’ve been the same. I’m starting to think I should recruit another guide – the demand seems to be there.’

‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Naomi said, noticeably more enthusiastic. ‘Another guide could take over some of your walks and give you more freedom. That way, you could go to auditions, if the right role came up.’

Fraser scratched his beard. ‘That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about expanding Dead Famous, not stepping back. If I take on someone in addition to Tom and me, they could start an hour later or cover another route. There’s no shortage of stories to tell, that’s for sure.’

There was a long silence. ‘Expanding,’ she said at length. ‘Right.’

‘It makes perfect sense,’ Fraser went on. ‘And if the sales of Maura’s ghosts really take off, we could easily become Edinburgh’s number one walking tour.’

This time, the pause was so long that he thought the line must have gone dead. ‘Are you still there?’ he asked, glancing at the screen.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ she said, although she sounded strangely muted. ‘It’s just…’

Fraser frowned as her voice trailed off. ‘Hello? Naomi, I can’t hear you. Have you got signal where you are?’

The line crackled. ‘It’s not the signal that’s the problem,’ she said. ‘Look, Fraser, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should take a break.’

‘A break?’ Fraser repeated with a burst of incredulity. ‘I’ve just told you how busy I am. I can’t spare the time for holiday right now.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He heard her take a deep breath. ‘I mean a break from us. I’m not coming back to Edinburgh next week. I’m going to stay in London.’

Fraser sat back against the sofa. ‘Oh.’

‘I’ve been offered several jobs while I’ve been here – photoshoots I want to take.

And, well, the truth is I haven’t been very happy in Edinburgh.

It’s okay for you – you’ve got all your friends and the business, but I don’t.

So I think a break would do us both good, while we think about what we want. ’

He closed his eyes. Now that the initial shock of the suggestion was fading, he wasn’t entirely surprised. If he was honest, they’d been growing apart for months, ever since leaving London, and he’d had doubts of his own. But it still hurt. ‘I didn’t realise you’d been so unhappy,’ he said quietly.

‘Of course you didn’t,’ she said, suddenly sharp. ‘You’ve barely noticed me at all since the start of the year.’

‘That’s not true,’ he countered, stung. ‘I’ve been working hard, that’s all. It takes a lot of time and effort to run a successful business.’

‘Believe me, I know,’ Naomi snapped. ‘That’s my point, in fact. You don’t have time for a relationship right now. You don’t have time for me.’

Even as she said it, he knew she had a point. He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. ‘So what happens now?’

Naomi puffed out a breath. ‘Nothing happens. I’ll stay here and we’ll give each other some space.’

Fraser shook his head. He’d seen friends do the same thing when their relationships were faltering. It had rarely resulted in them getting back together. ‘How long do you propose we give it?’

‘Two months,’ she said, with such alacrity that he knew she’d decided on the timeframe in advance. ‘That should give us both time to decide if we want to be together.’

Two months of uncertainty, he thought doubtfully.

Two months where neither of them would be able to lick their wounds and heal, or start to move on.

And at the end of the two months, one of them might choose to end the relationship for good, leaving the other to relive the pain of the break-up, knowing it was permanent this time.

‘No,’ he said. ‘If this is what you want then we end things here.’

‘That’s your pride talking,’ she replied. ‘When you’ve had time to think about things, you’ll realise that isn’t what you want.’

The trouble was, the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was exactly what he wanted.

She was probably right, there was almost certainly some wounded pride colouring his feelings, but there was no use in prolonging the inevitable.

‘You don’t want to live here, and I’m not moving back to London.

That seems to be a pretty insurmountable problem. ’

‘Which is why I suggested we take a break,’ Naomi said. ‘A few months apart might help us see what’s really important.’

The light dawned on Fraser. She anticipated that he would be unable to live without her and would agree to return to London.

If that was the case, she had underestimated how deeply he had reestablished his roots in the city.

Things were going well in Edinburgh. If Naomi intended to make him to choose between her and the new life he had begun to build, she was going to be sorely disappointed.

And it was better that it happened now than in two months’ time.

‘Neither of us deserves to be kept dangling, Naomi. I’m sorry it’s ended this way but I agree it’s for the best.’

When she spoke, her voice was hard. ‘You’re going to regret this. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.’

Wincing, Fraser summoned up an image of her face.

Her claim wasn’t entirely without merit – there’d been plenty of good times and he was going to miss her.

But she could also be demanding and temperamental, meaning he had often found himself treading on eggshells around her, especially in recent months.

It was something of a relief to know that he wouldn’t have to deal with her self-absorption and tantrums anymore.

‘Probably,’ he said wearily. ‘Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t worry about the practicalities.

We can sort everything out over the next few weeks. ’

She didn’t answer; a muted chime told him she had hung up.

Slumping back against the cushions, Fraser dropped his phone to his lap as doubts assailed him.

Had he been too hasty? Should he have agreed to a break instead of hitting the self-destruct button?

He let out a long slow breath and closed his eyes as he contemplated this sudden hole in his life.

From the way Naomi had reacted, he knew one thing: there was no going back.

‘Hello. You don’t remember me, do you?’

The woman smiling at Fraser was faintly familiar, now he came to look at her more closely, but he had no idea why.

She was standing a little apart from the small crowd that had assembled near the Mercat Cross on the Royal Mile, and he had the distinct impression she was not used to being forgotten.

Perhaps she’d been on the tour before and expected him to remember her, or they might have chatted after a theatre performance years earlier.

He shook his head in polite apology. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘Have we met before?’

‘At Hogmanay,’ she said. ‘I’m a friend of Maura’s.’

And then he placed her, in Pete’s kitchen on New Year’s Eve, although her name still evaded him. ‘Of course,’ he said, nodding. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘Maura hasn’t stopped raving about how good your tour is so I thought I’d come and see for myself,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Fraser said, trying to ignore the small flutter of pleasure at the thought of Maura’s recommendation. He lifted his phone. ‘What name did you book under?’

‘Zoe Pieterson,’ she said.

He scanned the screen until he found her. ‘Got it,’ he said, and checked the box beside her name. ‘Welcome, Zoe. If you’ll just wait here, the tour will get started shortly.’

She stayed close to him for the duration of the tour, listening with rapt attention when he spoke and falling into step as the group cut through the city’s wynds and alleyways.

He didn’t mind, exactly – she was on her own, after all, and any friend of Maura’s deserved special treatment – but it did leave him less time to chat with the other attendees.

When Maura had come along on one of the tours with her sister, they’d both been unobtrusive, indistinguishable from the paying customers.

Zoe was different. If Fraser didn’t know better, he might suspect she was flirting with him.

‘That was great,’ she gushed when the tour was over and the crowd had begun to disperse. ‘Every bit as brilliant as Maura said it would be.’

‘Thanks,’ Fraser said, and nodded to a couple who were shyly smiling goodbye. ‘Glad you enjoyed it.’

‘It’s obvious you’ve been professionally trained,’ Zoe went on. ‘You made everything seem so real.’

Fraser smiled. ‘I try.’

‘I’d love to hear more about the stories behind the ghosts,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Have you got time to go for a drink? I’m buying.’

He looked at her then, because there was no doubt that she was interested in much more than his stories.

For a nanosecond, he was tempted; she was blonde and attractive, if ten years too young for him, and her interest was flattering.

But it wouldn’t be fair to encourage her, no matter how much he could do with the ego boost. He shook his head.

‘Not tonight, I’m afraid. But thanks for coming along. Hope to see you again soon.’

If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it, which made Fraser wonder whether he’d got the wrong end of the stick. ‘No problem,’ she said, smiling. ‘It was just an idea.’

Once Zoe had gone, Fraser turned his attention to the others who had hung around, obviously waiting for an opportunity to speak to him.

He accepted their effusive praise with thanks, recommended the other Dead Famous tour run by Tom, and advised them to sign up for the newsletter for details of new tours and Edinburgh Ghost releases.

As the last stragglers began to drift away, Fraser found himself presented with a business card. ‘My name is Alistair Caldwell. I work for Edinburgh City Council,’ the man said.

‘Hello,’ Fraser said as he took the card, wondering uneasily if he had inadvertently broken one of the city’s ordnances. ‘Can I help you with something?’

The man smiled. ‘I hope so. Part of my job is to support and encourage tourism in Edinburgh, and we hold occasional networking meetings to allow various stakeholders to meet up and swap ideas.’

Fraser eyed him warily. ‘Who do you mean by stakeholders?’

Alistair Caldwell shrugged. ‘Some are storytellers, like yourself, or in similarly creative industries. Others represent the city’s larger tourist attractions, like the castle or Mary King’s Close.

It’s all quite informal, with wine and nibbles.

There’s one in a few weeks, if you’re interested in joining us.

It’s being held in the City Chambers, opposite where your tour starts. ’

‘I know it,’ Fraser said as he studied the card.

The City Chambers were housed in the old Royal Exchange, accessed through a series of ornate arches that lead to a cobbled courtyard boasting a magnificent bronze statue of Alexander taming the warhorse Bucephalus.

It was a splendidly elaborate building that Fraser imagined had plenty of stories to tell, and it wouldn’t do his business any harm to network a little.

If there was one thing he had learned from a hundred after-show parties, it was that opportunities sometimes came from the most unexpected places.

‘Thanks, Mr Caldwell. I’ll see what I can do. ’

The man looked pleased. ‘My email address is on the card. Drop me a line and I can send you more details. And thank you for the tour. It really was excellent.’ With a final nod, he left Fraser alone.

Tucking the business card into his pocket, Fraser set off for Princes Street and the tram that would take him back to Leith. It had turned out to be an unexpectedly interesting evening.