That had been more than five years ago, Maura reminded herself as she was roused from her memories by another enthusiastic roar, and it had been a long time since Jamie had shown such interest in her work. These days he left her to it in the pottery studio below the Dean Village flat they shared, and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d come to one of her shows, although it had been years since she’d had a glitzy solo exhibition like the one where they’d met. It was the way all couples went, she knew – familiarity led to comfort, which eventually bred a benign lack of curiosity in even the most loving relationships. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to explain exactly what Jamie did for a living, beyond ‘something clever in investment banking’. It didn’t mean anything. And yet there were times when Maura couldn’t help feeling a little wistful for the man who had wooed her so determinedly when they’d first met.
Zoe materialized in front of her, a glass of Coke in one hand and a red wine in the other. ‘Mission accomplished,’ she announced as she sat beside Maura once more. ‘He’s an actor, which explains the pretty face, but he’s taking a break at the moment.’
‘An actor,’ Maura echoed. ‘Is he famous?’
Zoe took a swig of wine. ‘He says not but I suppose that’s what he would say. I didn’t recognize his name so he can’t have been in any big films or done much TV.’
Maura took a sip of her own drink. ‘He could be a stage actor. What’s he called?’
‘Fraser Bell,’ Zoe said, and Maura felt a clang in the pit of her stomach. That was a name she knew, although she hadn’t heard it for years. It couldn’t be the same person, could it? There had to be more than one Fraser Bell in Edinburgh. But an actor… that was harder to write off as a coincidence. ‘Was he – is he Scottish?’ she managed, after a few seconds had ticked by.
‘Yes,’ Zoe said. ‘He could hardly be anything else, with a name like that.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Maura said faintly, suddenly transported to the crowded, chaotic corridors of school, where she’d admired Fraser Bell from afar. And then the Spirit of Christmas Past raised its head, reminding her of a stolen kiss one winter’s night after they’d left school. She tried to sound casual. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Hoping to get blind drunk, like the rest of us,’ Zoe replied with a snort, then eyed Maura’s Coke. ‘Well, apart from you. Or do you mean why is he in Edinburgh?’
‘The second part.’
Zoe shrugged. ‘I didn’t ask. He just said he was taking a break from acting and I assumed he must have family here.’ She eyed Maura closely. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You don’t know him, do you?’
‘I might,’ Maura admitted, although she had no intention of saying any more than that. Zoe definitely didn’t need to know she and Fraser had been anything more than schoolmates. ‘We might have gone to school together. How old would you say he was?’
‘Mid -to-late-thirties,’ her friend said, without hesitation. ‘Around your age.’
Which meant it could be him, Maura reasoned. But guessing someone’s age was tricky, especially with men, who didn’t have the benefit of make-up to disguise the passing of the years. It was so easy to get it wrong.
It seemed Zoe had arrived at a decision while Maura dithered. ‘Go and say hello,’ she demanded, her eyes wide. ‘Go on. And if it is him, you can have a mini reunion in the kitchen. Bond over the teachers you hated, get sentimental over the old days – it’s practically the law at Hogmanay, anyway.’
Maura couldn’t argue with that – teary-eyed reminiscences were very much part of the New Year celebrations. Except that if this was the Fraser she’d known from school, there was a very real possibility he wouldn’t remember her, let alone the drunken kiss they’d shared. And then Maura would wish she’d left well enough alone. Maybe it was better to try to catch a glimpse of him first, she thought, her gaze sliding towards the doorway once more. But Zoe had the bit firmly between her teeth. ‘Go and say hello,’ she repeated, her tone gently insistent. ‘What have you got to lose?’
The question made Maura feel as though she was nineteen again, awkward and shy and with all the social skills of a mouse. She’d changed over the years – art school in London had helped with that, and the need to develop some confidence to sell her work – but she’d never lost her shyness. And Zoe only knew the bare facts – she had no idea Maura had nursed a crush on Fraser at school, much less snogged him once. But both of those things had happened a long time ago and she hadn’t thought of Fraser for years. Would it really cost her anything to see if it was him? It didn’t need to be anything more than a fleeting conversation. Especially if he failed to recognize her.
‘Okay,’ she said at last, unsure whether the sudden flutter in her stomach was caused by nervousness or anticipation. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Excellent,’ Zoe said, and Maura thought she might actually clap her hands. ‘I’ll come too.’
‘No.’ The word was out before Maura could stop it; she didn’t need a witness to the humiliation she felt sure was coming. ‘Let me see if it’s him first.’
Zoe sighed. ‘Fine. I’ll give you five minutes and then I’m coming in.’
There was a strong possibility Maura would have fled by then but she kept that to herself. ‘Okay. Wish me luck.’
‘You’re going into the kitchen at a party,’ Zoe observed with a grin. ‘Not storming the Bastille. You don’t need luck.’
If only she knew, Maura thought as she made her way across the room. Then again, it was much better that she didn’t.
Chapter Two
Fraser Bell had always loved Hogmanay. He loved the enduring traditions, passed from one generation to the next and maintained with steadfast enthusiasm. No one knew why the first person to cross the threshold of a home after the bells had struck twelve should be a dark-haired man, just as nobody remembered why the crossing of hands when singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was important, but everyone observed the rituals all the same. He loved the defiance with which they set the sky aglow, an ‘up yours’ gesture to winter and a welcome reminder that the light would return soon. Perhaps most of all, he appreciated the almost palpable sense of renewal, that the dying year passed the baton to a fresh new year on the stroke of midnight and everything began anew, although he imagined most people simply saw it as an excuse for a good drink.
That was the thing with being an actor; everything became a story. Logically, he knew Hogmanay was no different from any other night but, deep in his soul, something resonated. Especially in Edinburgh. It had been years since he’d greeted the new year in the city of his birth and he was determined to soak it up. Although not as determined as some of the revellers in the living room, if the noise they were making was anything to go by. Rugby players, he guessed, knowing his host was an enthusiastic member of the Edinburgh Stags. It wasn’t a sport he’d ever wanted to play, although he enjoyed cheering on his national team as much as anyone.
‘So is this a temporary homecoming?’ The host of the party, Pete, glanced at Fraser as he reached past him for the bottle of Highland Park whisky on the worktop. ‘Or are you back for good?’
Fraser glanced across the kitchen to where his girlfriend, Naomi, stood chatting to Pete’s wife. ‘I’ve been back for a while,’ he said. ‘Since September. I started a ghost tour business in the city centre.’
Pete snorted. ‘Fleecing gullible tourists, is it? Plenty of those around, I bet you’re doing a roaring trade.’
