Page 14 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane: Part 2
Chapter Six
‘Darling.’ Fraser’s mother pulled him into a hug before he’d even crossed the doorstep. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Hello, Mum,’ Fraser said, absorbing the comfort she always gave. ‘I’m okay.’
Releasing him, she stood back to study him with a narrow-eyed gaze. ‘You look like you’ve lost weight. Are you eating?’
He suppressed a smile, because she said the same thing every time he came to visit. ‘It’s all the walking I’m doing,’ he said, as she stepped back to allow him into the house. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not pining away from a broken heart.’
‘I should hope not,’ she said briskly. ‘Come on inside and see your father. Don’t mention golf, whatever you do. He’s got a new club he’s desperate to bore you with.’
Pausing to ruffle the teddy bear ears of Elvis the cockapoo, Fraser followed her along the hall and into kitchen, where his father was filling the teapot. ‘Hullo, son. How was the journey?’
It was another time-honoured question. ‘Not too bad,’ Fraser replied, bending to give Elvis some more satisfactory attention. The dog rolled onto his back, legs waving comically. ‘The roadworks through Longniddry slowed me down a bit.’
His dad grunted. ‘They’re a real pain. Another two weeks of them, so they say, although I never see anyone doing any work there.’
Fraser nodded, because this was a well-worn grumble. Everything had been much faster in Micky Bell’s day, because people knew the meaning of hard work then. It was not a lecture Fraser was in the mood to hear again so he decided to head it off. ‘Mum says you’ve a new club to show me.’
‘I do – a real beauty,’ his father said, taking the bait. ‘You’ll have to come and play a round or two, see her in action.’
‘What sort of club is it?’ Fraser asked, avoiding the invitation because Micky had become ferociously competitive since taking up golf in retirement and Fraser had learned long ago it was not much fun to play with him.
‘A seven-iron,’ Micky said, his eyes gleaming. ‘She’s got me out of trouble a few times already, I can tell you.’
Roberta rolled her eyes as she filled a plate with shortbread. ‘Don’t encourage him, Fraser. Anyone would think he’s Rory McIlroy, the way he goes on.’
‘He asked,’ Micky objected. ‘What am I supposed to do, pretend I don’t have a new club?’
‘You’re supposed to ask how he is,’ Roberta said. ‘He’s just broken up with his girlfriend, remember?’
Fraser shook his head as he reluctantly straightened up. It was time to reassure both his parents that breaking up with Naomi had not been the emotional rollercoaster they were imagining. ‘Really, there’s no need. I’m fine.’
His mother sniffed. ‘Putting on a brave face. You were the same as a boy – never let anyone see when you were hurting.’
There was a grain of truth in that but it wasn’t a topic Fraser had any intention of discussing now. ‘I promise you I’m okay, Mum,’ he said. ‘Obviously, I’m sorry things turned out the way they did but neither of us was very happy. It’s probably all for the best.’
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit, lad. Plenty more fish in the sea.’
‘Micky!’ Roberta snapped. ‘It’s only been a week. I’m sure Fraser isn’t thinking about that now.’
‘I’m just saying,’ Micky said, raising his hands in a semblance of injured reasonableness. ‘He’s got a lot to offer the right woman.’
‘I know that,’ Roberta said. ‘But the boy’s had his heart trampled. He needs time to heal.’
Fraser shifted uncomfortably. He’d been low in the days after the breakup with Naomi but, once the sadness had passed, he had begun to see how inevitable it had been and a burgeoning sense of relief had replaced any melancholy he felt. He hadn’t tried to contact her and she hadn’t been in touch, which led him to suspect she was feeling the same liberation he was. ‘I’m really not heartbroken.’
His mother looked at him askance but didn’t press the point. ‘I’m glad,’ she said, and busied herself with loading the tea and biscuits onto a tray. ‘What else is new? Are you keeping busy with work?’
‘Very,’ Fraser said, following her out to the table and chairs on the patio. ‘I’ve started advertising for another tour guide.’
‘That’s good news,’ she said, nodding her approval. ‘Isn’t it, Micky?’
‘Aye,’ his dad said. ‘Great stuff.’
Roberta settled into a chair and began to pour the tea. ‘And how are things going with the wee ghosties? Are they still selling well?’
Fraser thought of the new orders that had landed overnight. ‘You could say that. I took delivery of another twenty this week and I still need forty more. Maura can’t make them fast enough.’
