Chapter Five
There was no doubt about it, Fraser thought with a frown as he checked his calendar and compared it to the printed schedule on his desk.
The ghosts were late. Maura was late, by more than a week, and the customers who had pre-ordered from the latest batch of Agnes were starting to ask when they could expect their delivery.
And Maura herself had fallen uncharacteristically silent, failing to answer his previous four messages, which hadn’t actually been about the missing ghosts.
Two had been jaunty texts checking how she was doing, another had been letting her know Ewan McRae wanted a meeting to discuss a possible exhibition of her work at the castle, and the most recent had been a link to a funny Instagram video about a ninja penguin.
As far as Fraser could tell, she hadn’t read any of them.
It was very unlike her. He was beginning to wonder if something was wrong.
‘Maybe you should give her a call,’ Tom, one of the other tour guides said, when Fraser advised him not to mention the ghosts during his walks for the rest of the week.
‘I’m sure she’s just caught up with other projects,’ Fraser replied. ‘She said she’d taken on a couple of commissions after ScotPot – maybe they’ve taken longer than she anticipated.’
‘That’s not really our problem, though,’ Tom said doubtfully. ‘And if there is an issue, she should let you know. Ignoring your messages isn’t exactly helpful.’
‘It’s only been a week,’ Fraser pointed out, feeling the need to defend Maura. ‘And I doubled the order last time round. She’s told me before that pottery can be a slow business – it’s probably my fault for demanding too much.’
Tom raised his hands. ‘If you say so. There are bound to be people who ask about the ghosts, even if I don’t push them. What do you want me to tell them?’
Fraser thought for a moment. Maybe there was a way to turn the lack of ghosts into an opportunity. ‘Tell them pre-orders are closed at the moment but if they sign up to the newsletter, they’ll get the details of an exclusive flash sale in the next month.’
‘Risky,’ Tom said. ‘Didn’t you say most of the orders come in directly after a tour finishes? What if they forget to sign up?’
‘Then they miss out,’ Fraser said, spreading his hands. ‘But my gut feeling is that they won’t forget. And at least this way, we won’t be selling a product we don’t actually have.’
‘You’re the boss,’ Tom replied. ‘I just do as I’m told. It’s good things are going so well, though.’
And they were going well, Fraser knew. The ghost tours at the castle had been a roaring success, receiving glowing reviews in the press and ensuring Dead Famous had seen a corresponding upsurge in bookings that had stretched all three tour guides to full capacity.
Each ran one tour per night, in different areas of the city, and all were fully booked for the next three weeks.
July and August were the busiest months for the tourist trade, meaning the streets would be fuller than ever.
The newest Dead Famous guide, Rebecca, was already considering adding a second tour, starting at nine o’clock, to cope with demand.
But what Fraser needed most was for Maura to deliver the overdue ghosts.
He could only hope she wouldn’t keep him waiting much longer.
Fraser would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about seeing Naomi again.
They’d spoken once or twice since the break-up, mostly to discuss practicalities, and she’d messaged a week ago to ask whether it would be possible to collect some more of her things from the Leith apartment they’d shared.
Fraser had readily agreed – there was no animosity between them, after all – but now that Naomi’s arrival was imminent, he wondered how the sight of her might make him feel.
He had no regrets about the end of their relationship, was sure she didn’t either, but they’d had some good times together, admittedly mostly before he’d persuaded her to move from London to Edinburgh.
And he had no doubt she would be as beautiful as ever.
His heart might well offer a pang or two when she walked through the door.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the effusiveness of her greeting.
Naomi had always been impossibly cool, channelling more than a touch of Kate Moss at her most alluringly remote, and it was only the conviction that she was utterly out of reach that had given Fraser the confidence to flirt with her in the first place.
That she’d deigned to flirt back had blown his mind and he’d been putty in her hands from that moment on.
But she was not given to public displays of affection. And she was definitely not a hugger.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ she declared when he opened the door to let her into the flat. She threw her arms around him almost before she was across the doorstep, enveloping him in a cloud of expensive perfume and cashmere. It was not, he had to admit, an unpleasant experience.
‘Hi,’ he said, his voice slightly muffled by the silky blonde tresses that hung loose around her shoulders. Gently, he disentangled himself and stepped back. ‘Good to see you too. How was your journey?’
She pulled a face. ‘The usual. A scrum at baggage reclaim.’ Fraser’s gaze slid to the corridor beyond her and saw a large suitcase. ‘It’s empty. I brought it to fill up with the clothes I left here.’
‘Good idea,’ Fraser said, picturing how empty the wardrobes would be once bereft of Naomi’s many designer dresses and coats. He might be able to hang his own clothes up at long last. Reaching past her for the case, he wheeled it inside and closed the front door. ‘How long are you here for?’
‘One night,’ she said, slipping her shoes off and padding through to the living room as though she still lived there. ‘I’ve got a photoshoot in Cannes on Friday.’
Leaving the suitcase in the hall, Fraser followed Naomi. ‘Sounds awful,’ he said dryly. ‘How will you cope?’
‘Oh, stop it,’ she said, pouting. ‘It’s work.’
‘On the French Riviera,’ he observed. ‘There are worse places to do your job.’
She glanced out of the window then, at the leaden skies that hung over the grey North Sea beyond the docks, and he knew what she was thinking.
As far as she was concerned, Edinburgh did not compare favourably to many places.
‘Okay, you may have a point.’ She stretched and sighed.
‘It’s been such a long day. I could murder a coffee. ’
Fraser hid a smile. Naomi ran on coffee. ‘Espresso, no sugar?’
She looked pleased. ‘You remembered.’
‘Of course I remembered,’ he said, a little stung. ‘My memory’s not that bad.’
In the kitchen, he busied himself with the machine.
Of all the rooms in the apartment, this one had held the fewest traces of Naomi.
The juicer was hers but he assumed that was too bulky to transport back to London.
Apart from that, there were some delicate crystal wine glasses he’d grown quite attached to, plus a selection of herbal teas she’d tried and abandoned for lack of caffeine.
He didn’t mind if she took those, although he’d started to enjoy a camomile tea before bed.
When had he grown so middle-aged? he wondered ruefully as he carried Naomi’s coffee back through to the living room. He used to drink whisky before bed.
‘Have you missed me?’ Naomi said as she curled her long legs beneath her on the sofa. ‘I’ve missed you.’
He sat beside her, taking care to maintain a discreet distance between them.
The truth was that he hadn’t missed her much, once the initial shock of her absence had worn off, but he didn’t think honesty was the best policy.
Not if he valued his white carpet. ‘Of course,’ he murmured.
‘But work has been mad. I did some events at the castle and they really raised our profile.’
‘I saw,’ she said. ‘You made the papers. I’ll even admit to being a little impressed.’
‘Really?’ he said, glancing at her in surprise.
‘Really,’ she echoed, and wriggled a little closer. ‘Although a lack of talent was never your problem. Lack of ambition, on the other hand…’
Fraser’s mouth twisted in amusement as she trailed off. ‘Thanks.’
She waved a hand. ‘But that’s all water under the bridge now. What’s done is done.’
‘True enough,’ he agreed, relieved she didn’t seem to be about to revisit that particularly well-worn path. ‘So where are you staying tonight? Somewhere fancy, I hope.’
‘The Balmoral,’ she said carelessly. ‘I haven’t checked in yet.’
He frowned. ‘You came straight here from the airport?’
‘I wanted to see you,’ she said, looking up through her lashes. ‘Is that so surprising?’
‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘But I suppose it makes sense to collect your things first, give you time to enjoy the evening. Have you got plans?’
‘No plans,’ she said idly, and reached out to squeeze his bicep. ‘I thought perhaps you might like to do something.’
A faint flicker of unease rippled through Fraser. ‘I have to go to work, Naomi.’
She ran her fingers across his chest, walked them up to the soft hair of his beard. ‘I thought you’d say that,’ she said. ‘So go to work. I’ll be waiting here when you get back.’
He had to concede it was a tempting offer.
Whatever the differences between him and Naomi, they had not manifested themselves in the bedroom and it would be no hardship to spend the night in her arms. But he’d never really been into one-night stands, and he knew from experience that he and Naomi couldn’t offer each other more than that. ‘And then what?’
She smiled, reaching up to caress his cheek. ‘And then we enjoy each other’s company. In the morning, I go back to London, and maybe next time you come down to visit me.’
Her face tilted towards his expectantly, and he knew she was waiting for him to kiss her. Gently, he removed her hand from his cheek. ‘We both know that won’t work.’
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘We were good together, before you made us come here. We could be good together again, without living in each other’s pockets. Just think – all the fun of a relationship, with none of the hassle.’
It wasn’t a terrible idea, Fraser thought.
Plenty of people made long distance relationships work.
The trouble was, the Fraser he was now wasn’t the one Naomi wanted.
She wanted the actor, the glamour that came with the party invitations and award ceremonies he’d always attended without a hope of being recognised for his work.
She wanted who he had been five years ago.
‘But what if a relationship is exactly what I want?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Then come back to London. Move in with me and we’ll make it work. Your agent has been trying to get hold of you – he says he’s got the role of a lifetime to offer you. There’s a future for you in acting, Fraser. All you have to do is take it.’
The mention of Sam caused a squirm of guilt; Fraser had ignored another email from him only last week.
For a moment he wavered – his agent had frequently been known to exaggerate the importance of the roles he’d sent Fraser’s way in the past, but he couldn’t recall Sam ever describing one as ‘the role of a lifetime’, and he couldn’t help wondering what it might be.
But his curiosity didn’t survive long, blown away by the bigger grenade Naomi had just lobbed his way.
He gazed at her for a long moment, taking in the perfect arch of her cheekbones, the flawless skin, the wide blue eyes that were virtually begging him to see sense.
If his friends could see him now, they’d be roaring at him to do the obvious thing and take her up on her offer, both for the night and for the rest of his life.
But he couldn’t. To say yes now would be to turn his back on everything he’d built in Edinburgh – on Dead Famous, the other tour guides and on Maura, who was working so hard to help him make a go of things.
As if summoned by the thought, a vision of her loomed into his mind, smiling as she showed him how to shape the clay, the tips of her dark hair specked white as she brushed back a curl.
He let out a slow breath. ‘It’s not what I want, Naomi. I’m sorry.’
Leaning back against the cushions, she sighed.
‘I thought you’d say that.’ Draining her coffee, she put the cup on the table and got to her feet.
‘I’ll never understand why you’re so determined to waste your talents telling stories to tourists when your star could be on the rise.
You’re a bloody fool, Fraser Bell. Has anyone ever told you that? ’
‘Plenty of people,’ he said, resisting the urge to point out that his star’s failure to rise above the occasional recurring role in UK TV dramas was a big part of the reason he’d turned his back on acting. ‘You’re in great company.’
Her eyes flashed but he didn’t think she was annoyed. Not by her usual standards, anyway. ‘You’ll change your mind,’ she said with a confident toss of her head. ‘Just don’t leave it too long. I won’t wait forever and nor will your agent.’
He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t thrown the cup. ‘Noted,’ he said gravely. ‘Now, do you want some help to fill that case or will I just get in your way?’