‘He crashed on someone’s sofa,’ Maura said, deciding to keep the shower fiasco to herself.
Kirsty shook her head. ‘Which is fine when you’re in your twenties, but less so in your mid-thirties. Was he embarrassed?’
She thought back to Jamie’s churlishness when she’d confronted him. Part of it was probably due to shame at the state he was in but he hadn’t done much to defuse the situation. ‘Hard to say. He didn’t seem to think he should have let me know where he was.’
Her sister stared. ‘He went radio silent?’
‘Yeah,’ Maura said. ‘I’m not sure he did it on purpose but that’s not really the point. I was still starting to worry.’
‘I bet.’ Kirsty puffed out her cheeks. ‘I’d kill Dougal if he tried that.’
Maura scuffed at a pebble on the path. No sheepish messages from Jamie had popped up on her phone; just like the night before, there had been no communication at all. ‘I’ll see what he has to say when I get home.’
‘He needs to be waiting on the doorstep with chocolates and flowers,’ Kirsty said. ‘It’s a bit lacking in imagination but at least it would be a good start.’
‘I’d settle for an apology,’ Maura replied, not at all certain she would get one.
But Jamie surprised her. He wasn’t waiting at the door but he was at the top of the stairs when she came home just after eight o’clock. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, before she was even halfway up. ‘I’m a total idiot. Can you forgive me?’
Maura swallowed a sigh, because although it was an apology, she couldn’t help feeling it was one designed to manoeuvre her into making him feel better about his behaviour. She continued to trudge upwards until she reached the top and met his gaze with frank honesty. ‘I suppose it all depends on what you’re sorry for.’
‘All of it,’ Jamie said, eyes wide and beseeching like a naughty schoolchild. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did and I should have messaged you to let you know what was going on.’
There wasn’t much Maura could say – he was right on both counts. But she was tired of arguing, weary of the sullen anger and resentment that had burned all afternoon. Her beloved and much-missed aunt had often advised her never to let the sun set on a disagreement and it was advice Maura had always tried to follow. ‘Don’t ever do it again. I mean it, Jamie.’
He shook his head. ‘Believe me, I won’t. I’m not sure I ever want to drink again.’
The pained fervour in his voice elicited a smile from her, even though it was a sentiment she’d heard before. ‘I’m sure that will pass.’
‘Possibly,’ Jamie conceded. ‘But all I care about now is making up for my stupidity.’ He took her hand and drew her gently nearer. ‘So what do you think? Can you forgive me?’
She glanced past him then to the living room, where a bouquet of red roses and something that looked like a large box of expensive chocolates lay upon the coffee table. The sight was so close to Kirsty’s prediction that Maura half-wondered whether her sister had messaged Jamie to tell him what he needed to do. She would doubtless advise Maura to make him sweat but she’d never been interested in playing relationship games and wasn’t about to start now. She didn’t resist when Jamie wrapped his arms around her, although she did not hug him back. ‘Why didn’t you message me – let me know where you were?’
He sighed and buried his face in her hair. ‘My phone battery died. By the time I realised and found a charger, I knew it was going to take more than a text message to clear things up. So I came home to face the music.’
And promptly accused her of being unreasonable, Maura recalled. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that I’d be worried?’
‘Not until I turned my phone on and saw all the missed calls,’ he said. ‘That’s when I knew I was in trouble.’
‘In trouble?’ she echoed and drew back to stare at him. ‘Was that really your first thought?’
A faint pink flush appeared on his cheeks. ‘No,’ he said, and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I meant that I knew I’d messed up and you were upset.’ He planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I’m sorry, Maura. I don’t know what else to say.’
She stood rigid for a moment, wondering if she was imagining the veiled implication that she was somehow being unreasonable again. But she’d told Kirsty that she would settle for an apology and Jamie had offered that. Was there really anything to be gained by holding onto her anger and disappointment? With an inward sigh, she shook the negative emotions away. ‘Okay.’
‘That’s my girl,’ Jamie said. He ushered her towards the sofa. ‘Now, why don’t you make a start on those chocolates and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’
‘More ghosts?’ Effie peered over Maura’s shoulder at the pale cluster on the workbench in front of her. ‘Your friend must have liked what he saw if he’s put in another order.’
It was a week after Fraser had collected the first batch of ghosts and Maura had wasted no time in getting to work on the next order. Fifteen had been dried and fired, with another five cooling in the kiln as they spoke. She nodded at Effie. ‘He wants forty more.’
Cordelia paused in the act of removing her coat. ‘Forty?’ she repeated, eyebrows raised. ‘That makes sixty in total. Is he sure he can shift that many?’
‘He certainly thinks so,’ Maura said, picking up the underglaze she used to add the seaweed effect to Agnes. ‘In fact, he says there’s a waiting list for more, which is why I’ve had to rush to make these.’
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about pottery, it’s that it is never a good idea to rush it,’ Cordelia said with a sniff. She eyed the ghosts suspiciously, as though she expected them to show signs of their hurried creation. ‘But I suppose you know what you’re doing.’
Behind Cordelia’s back, Effie pulled a face and Maura had to fight a sudden desire to giggle. ‘You’re right, of course,’ she said. ‘But making the ghosts is the simple bit. It’s the decoration that takes the time.’
