Chapter Twenty
The woman glowering at Fraser was familiar but he wasn’t sure why.
She hadn’t been on the tour he’d just finished, he was certain of that – the scowl she wore would have scared his punters far more than any ghost story he could tell.
But here she was, outside a darkened Greyfriars Kirk, glaring as though she had a king-size bone to pick with him.
Perhaps she was one of a long list of unhappy customers who were waiting to receive the ghost they had ordered.
Maura had finally been in touch, sending him a one-line message to explain that there’d been a problem in the manufacturing process but she expected to deliver the batch by Monday.
Relieved, Fraser had told her not to worry and sent out an update to the waiting customers.
Most had been understanding but there was always one, he thought.
Or perhaps she was simply a homicidal maniac determined to inflict a grisly death upon him.
As Callum had suggested at the castle gates, in Edinburgh it could be hard to tell.
‘Hello,’ he said easily as the last of the ghost walkers drifted away. ‘Can I help you with something?’
She folded her arms. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact you can, Fraser Bell.’
The use of his full name almost made him wince. He straightened up. ‘Obviously, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. You know my name but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.’
‘Kirsty Black,’ she snapped. ‘Maura’s sister.’
Fraser wanted to click his fingers. Of course, he should have known. She didn’t have Maura’s dark curls or ethereal beauty but there was enough of a family resemblance to make the relationship obvious. Perhaps the furious scowl had fooled him. ‘I remember now. You came on the tour with Maura.’
She nodded. ‘I did.’ The ferocity of her expression lessened a bit. ‘You were very good.’
‘Thank you,’ Fraser said gravely. ‘So what brings you here this evening? Obviously you’ve missed tonight’s tour.’
‘I’ve come to find out what the bloody hell you think you’re playing at,’ Kirsty said. ‘Do you have any idea how close to a breakdown Maura is?’
Fraser felt his jaw drop. Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t this. ‘What?’
Kirsty narrowed her eyes. ‘All these ghosts you’ve asked her to make. She’s working eighteen-hour days to fit them in. It’s not healthy. You’re taking advantage of her good nature to make a profit and it’s about time someone told you where to get off.’
‘What?’ Fraser said again, but this time it was purely to buy himself a few seconds to process the accusation. Maura was putting in eighteen-hour days? It was news to him. ‘But she hasn’t said anything.’
‘Of course she hasn’t,’ Kirsty replied, rolling her eyes.
‘She’s a people pleaser. She doesn’t want to let anyone down, least of all you.
But she’s working herself into the ground and if someone doesn’t stop her, she’s going to make herself ill.
’ Her raised voice had begun to attract attention; passers-by were throwing curious looks their way.
‘Sorry, can we backtrack a bit? I know she’s had a problem delivering the latest batch of ghosts, but I thought it was fixed now.’
Kirsty let out a harsh laugh. ‘Yeah, I suppose you could call being cheated on by her boyfriend a problem. Good of you to acknowledge that.’
And now Fraser could only stare at her in open-mouthed bewilderment. He shook his head, aware he was gaping like a stupefied carp. ‘What?’
His obvious confusion made Kirsty study him more closely. ‘Ah,’ she said, her voice subsiding into a more neutral tone. ‘That explains one or two things. You don’t know.’
‘Jamie cheated on Maura?’ he managed, slowly making sense of her words. ‘When?’
Kirsty waved a hand. ‘A few months ago. With one of her friends, to make things worse. A girl called Zoe.’
Fraser blinked. ‘I know her. She came on one of my tours, tried to get me to go for a drink with her afterwards. But I thought she had a boyfriend.’
‘She did,’ Kirsty said. ‘But it doesn’t seem like that meant much to her, nor did the fact that Jamie was living with Maura.
Evidently, she set her sights on him and spilled the beans about the affair when she ditched the boyfriend, presumably to force Jamie’s hand and get Maura out of the picture. ’
Fraser swore. He’d never thought much of Jamie – had always felt Maura was far too good for him – but he’d known better than to air his views, even after Jamie’s drunken performance at the Witchery.
She’d always been so forgiving – so understanding – of his poor behaviour and now he’d betrayed her in the worst way; Fraser couldn’t bear the idea that she’d been put through such hell.
His hands curled into involuntary fists and he had to take several deep breaths to loosen them.
‘How’s Maura?’ He shook the question away, irritated by his own insensitivity.
‘Sorry, that’s stupid of me. She must be devastated. ’
Kirsty paused to consider. ‘She was hurt, obviously. But it hasn’t been one of those long, drawn-out breakups. Jamie didn’t try to deny it, which I suppose he deserves a sliver of credit for – he packed a bag and left the same evening.’
An image of Maura swam into Fraser’s head, her eyes red from crying. Fury bubbled up inside him. He wanted to swear again. ‘Why didn’t she tell me? I could have helped or – or something.’
‘I don’t know,’ Kirsty said, and eyed him speculatively. ‘I assumed she had.’
‘Which is why you were furious with me for not offering her any support,’ Fraser observed grimly. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at her. ‘So now what? Obviously, I want her to take all the time she needs but I don’t know whether she’ll be happy that you’ve told me what’s going on.’
Kirsty shrugged. ‘As an older sister, there are times when you have to take matters into your own hands, regardless of what your sibling wants. You needed to know.’
Fraser took a breath, willing his indignation and anger to lessen so that he could think rationally. ‘I did. Thank you for telling me.’ He paused, remembering something else Kirsty had said. ‘Is she really on the verge of a breakdown? Because of me?’
‘Not solely because of you, you numpty,’ Kirsty said, eyeing him with no small amount of scorn.
‘Get over yourself. Obviously, the break-up is the biggest factor – that’s a life-changing event.
But pressure from you to deliver the ghosts among all the other work she has going on isn’t helping.
So maybe take a step back, let her know that pressure is off. That should ease things a bit.’
‘I can do that,’ Fraser said, relieved he’d told Tom and Rebecca he was changing the way they sold the ghosts. ‘No problem.’ He eyed Kirsty with some trepidation as another thought occurred to him. ‘Should I go and see her?’
‘That’s up to you,’ she said. ‘She needs friends right now, just as much as family. Can you be a friend to her, Fraser?’
‘I hope I already am,’ he said, remembering the conversation he and Maura had shared on Portobello Beach. But the fact remained that when she’d needed support, she hadn’t turned to him. ‘But maybe I need to try harder.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Kirsty said. ‘Just tread carefully. And be patient. I’m not sure she’s really dealt with the fallout from Jamie’s affair.’
He nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
She sighed as she turned to leave. ‘I can see you’ve got good intentions, Fraser. Just try not to make things worse.’
Fraser wasn’t surprised to observe a little thrum of anxiety dancing along his nerves as he waited outside Maura’s studio on Monday evening.
After his disconcerting conversation with Kirsty the previous week, he’d messaged Maura to ask if she needed more time to deliver the ghosts.
She’d come back with a suggestion that he call round to collect them in the evening rather than the afternoon and, since Monday was his night off from Dead Famous, he’d been happy to agree.
He didn’t like the idea that she was still working at seven o’clock but Kirsty had made it clear how much pressure her sister was under and Fraser was all too aware he wasn’t in a position to lecture anyone about working too hard.
From what Kirsty had said, Maura might be using her work as a means to avoid facing up to the end of her relationship and Fraser had no idea what to expect when she opened the door.
He’d been through a painful break-up or two of his own over the years and there had been days when he had struggled to get out of bed, let alone shower and take care of himself.
He could only hope she wasn’t falling apart that badly.
‘Hello,’ she said, poking her head out of the smaller door that sat in the middle of the left-hand side of the garage doors. ‘Come on in.’
Fraser ducked inside. The studio was warm and brightly lit, much the same as it had been during his previous visits.
The shelves were loaded with the usual assortment of pots, some more finished than others, but he thought he could easily pick out those made by Maura.
Several boxes sat at the base of the shelves; he saw the edge of a wide plate poking out of the crumpled paper packaging of one.
More plates covered the workbenches, white glaze on black clay in a striking pattern that he imagined would look great in a restaurant setting.
An open tub of glaze stood at one end of the bench, a paintbrush submerged in its depths, suggesting he’d interrupted her in the midst of decorating something.
There wasn’t much unused space. He had no idea how she fitted her students in.
‘You’re still hard at work,’ he said, nodding towards the telltale brush.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ she said, and as she turned round, Fraser was able to observe her properly for the first time.