Page 8 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane, Part Two

There were many things Maura loved about living in Edinburgh but the city centre traffic was not one of them.

She was on her way to drop off a delivery of vases to Morningside Gallery, less than three miles away from Dean Village, but a journey that should have taken around ten minutes had lasted more than half an hour and she was still a few minutes away from Morningside Road.

It was a good thing she wasn’t in a hurry.

Eilish Swan, the gallery owner, spotted her through the wide bay windows and hurried to greet her. ‘Let me get that for you,’ she said, pulling the door back to allow Maura to edge inside with the box of ceramics. ‘Did you manage to get parked or are you on the double yellows?’

‘I’m in the bay by the florists,’ Maura said.

Eilish smiled and took the box from her. ‘Then let’s see what you’ve brought me today.’

A flutter of nerves rippled through Maura as the gallery owner lifted the first vase out.

She didn’t know why she was worried – Eilish had never been anything other than thrilled with the ceramics Maura had brought to the gallery.

This vase was asymmetric, with one curve swirling above the other like a wave.

She’d glazed the inside a deep emerald green, like the depths of the ocean, while the outside was a speckled foam green with white flecks along the rim.

Eilish looked up, her eyes shining. ‘It’s beautiful. Really stunning.’

The butterflies subsided. ‘There’s a companion piece – the same shape with a reversal of the colour scheme.’

Eilish set the first vase carefully to one side and dug into the box again.

When she’d unwrapped the second piece, she put them next to each other.

‘That’s the new window display sorted,’ she said with evident satisfaction.

‘I’ve a couple of breathtaking seascapes by Juliana Cruickshank that will complement these perfectly. ’

Maura smiled, pleased at the thought of being displayed alongside Juliana’s paintings. ‘Great. I popped another bowl in there as well, since you said you’d sold the last one.’

Eilish nodded as she unwound the protective packaging from the bowl. ‘Business has been brisk and your work is always snapped up quickly. I could sell everything you bring me two or three times over.’

Maura thought of her packed kiln, and the shelves of unfired pieces that silently berated her every time she walked past them. ‘If only I had a clone,’ she said wryly. ‘And a bigger kiln.’

But Eilish didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she was frowning down at the box. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, pulling something small and pale from its depths. ‘Have you picked up a hitchhiker?’

‘Oh!’ Maura exclaimed as she recognised one of the ghosts she had been packing for Fraser that morning. ‘How did that get in there?’

‘I don’t know but I love it,’ Eilish said. ‘What’s it for?’

Maura explained how she’d met Fraser and started to produce the ghosts.

‘No wonder you need a bigger kiln,’ Eilish said, when she’d finished. ‘Edinburgh Ghosts, unique to the city and handmade by you. I bet they’re selling like hot cakes.’

‘They seem to be popular,’ Maura agreed. ‘But I think that’s down to Fraser’s brilliant storytelling. Anyone could make these.’

The gallery owner turned a surprised gaze upon her. ‘I’m not sure about that. They’re different from your other work but they’re still Maura McKenzie originals.’ She turned the ghost over in her fingers and shook her head. ‘I hope this friend of yours appreciates how lucky he is.’

The words came back to Maura as she drove home.

Cordelia had said something along the same lines when Maura had first begun to produce the ghosts and she supposed from the outside it did seem as though she was bringing more to the partnership than Fraser.

But it had been his idea in the first place, inspired by his existing business, and Maura suspected that no one cared much who had made the ghosts.

It was Fraser Bell they were buying, not Maura McKenzie.

She hadn’t been back in the studio more than five minutes when there was a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, she rinsed the clay from her hands and peered out to see her elderly neighbour, Paolo, hovering on the cobbled street outside. She opened the door wide and smiled at him. ‘Hello.’

He turned towards her and she had to stop herself from letting out a horrified gasp. The right-hand side of his face was a mass of purple bruising; his eye was swollen shut and there was a nasty graze on his cheek.

‘Oh my goodness, Paolo, what have you done?’

‘Just me and my two left feet,’ he said, the words thickened a little by the visible bruising on his lip. ‘I tripped over while I was walking Hubert yesterday. It looks worse than it is.’

‘It looks really painful,’ Maura said, eyeing the livid bruising with sympathy. Hubert was a cute but loudly opinionated dachshund with big dog energy, who ruled Paolo and the rest of Thistledown Lane with an iron paw. ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt. What can I do to help?’

Paolo looked wretched. ‘I hate bothering you when you’re working but I didn’t know who else to ask.

I haven’t been able to take Hubert out today – my balance isn’t so good because of this stupid eye.

And as you’ve been kind enough to walk him once or twice in the past, I thought…

well, I hoped you might take him out for a quick stroll.

’ He sighed. ‘He gets a bit grumpy when he’s cooped up, you see. ’

‘Don’t we all?’ Maura said, although she privately thought that Hubert had grumpy tendencies no matter how many walks he had. ‘Of course I’ll help. When does he need to go out?’

A volley of high-pitched barking split the air. Paolo winced. ‘As soon as you can manage. He keeps catching sight of the cat from Number Three through the window and he won’t stop shouting at it.’

Maura nodded gravely. She had walked Hubert several times over recent months and it was her experience that he barked at anything he perceived as infringing on his patch. Number Three’s cat was an arch enemy. ‘Of course. Just let me finish up what I was making and I’ll take him out now.’

‘Thank you,’ Paolo said. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’

‘Not at all,’ Maura said. ‘To tell the truth, I’m glad of an excuse to get some fresh air myself.’

Promising to knock as soon as she could, she closed the door of the studio and surveyed the half-thrown pot on the wheel.

The clay would have dried by the time she’d given Hubert a good walk and she was anxious not to keep Paolo waiting.

Reaching for the cheese wire, she sliced the pot from wheel and squashed the clay back into a ball, returning it to the plastic bag she’d taken it from not ten minutes earlier.

It wasn’t much of a sacrifice – she could easily start again once she and Hubert were back from their walk.

Once she’d tidied up, she glanced around the studio to make sure there was nothing else that needed her attention.

Her gaze came to rest on the box of ghosts for Fraser, carefully packed up for him to collect the following day.

She planned to take Hubert to Portobello beach, in the hope that the wide expanse of sand and sea air would wear him out enough to give Paolo some peace.

Leith was only a few minutes’ drive from Portobello.

Should she offer to drop the ghosts off to Fraser, to save him the journey in the morning?

Picking up her phone, she tapped out a message.

Hey, are you in Leith now? I’m heading to Porty beach – can drop the ghosts off on the way?

Her phone pinged almost immediately: I am! Are you sure it’s no trouble?

She smiled. None at all, as long as you don’t mind being told what’s what by a bad-tempered sausage dog. I’m walking my neighbour’s dog.

Once again, Fraser’s reply was quick. My favourite kind of telling off. I could do with a walk myself – want some company?

Maura stared at the message for a few minutes, trying to work out how to respond.

She hadn’t considered he might offer to join her – all she’d wanted to do was save him a journey.

But now that the offer was there, she found herself tempted to say yes.

They didn’t have much to discuss, business-wise, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find other things to talk about.

Sure , she typed. Meet you in the car park at 2?

Perfect. See you there.

With Hubert in the back of the Volvo, and the ghosts safely in the passenger footwell, Maura set off for Portobello beach.

The morning clouds had cleared to reveal a blue sky dotted with cotton wool but Maura knew the beach of old – even on sunny days, the wind could cut in from the North Sea.

Hubert had a smart little coat to wear and so did Maura, as well as a bobble hat.

Jamie told her it made her look like a garden gnome but she didn’t care as long as her ears were warm.

She’d arrived a few minutes early, so had time to scan the beach.

It tended to be quieter on weekdays but there were still a few young children skipping across the sand, and several dog walkers.

Maura made a mental note to avoid both; Hubert was all bark but she’d learned from experience that it was easier to maintain plenty of distance.

‘Nice coat,’ a male voice said, and Maura spun round to see Fraser approaching.

‘Oh,’ she said, wrong-footed. ‘Um, thanks.’

He smiled. ‘I meant the dog’s but yours is nice too. Goes well with your hat.’

The words seemed sincerely meant but even so, Maura eyed him with some suspicion. ‘It’s cold.’

‘I know, that’s why I’ve got hat envy,’ he said, and looked at her appraisingly. ‘It suits you. You look like—’

‘If you’re about to mention garden ornaments then don’t,’ Maura said sternly.