‘Hmmm,’ Cordelia said. She crossed to the shelves to peer at the assembled pieces. ‘Do I have a mug ready to be glazed? I made it last week.’
Maura frowned in thought. ‘I think it’s in the kiln now. It won’t be cool enough to glaze today, sorry.’
Effie looked up. ‘Is my plate in there too? I can’t see it on the shelf.’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Maura said apologetically. ‘Between the ghosts and the pieces I need for ScotPot, there hasn’t been much space in the kiln. They’ll be ready next week.’
‘Okay,’ Effie said cheerfully, and pulled open the bag of clay. ‘In that case, I’m going to get started on a jug. That should keep me busy for a few hours.’
Cordelia arched an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t the last one take you four weeks?’
Effie gave her a grave look. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about pottery, it’s that it is never a good idea to rush it.’ She reached for the cutting wire. ‘That’s my excuse, anyway.’
Maura allowed their chatter to wash over her as she turned her attention to her own work. The ghosts needed to be painted with underglaze and then coated with a clear glaze before being fired again. Even allowing time for the current kiln load to cool before she could open it up and add the ghosts, she thought the first batch she had promised Fraser would be ready in two weeks rather than three. Should she message him and suggest he collect them early? Or was that setting up a dangerous expectation that she might be able to deliver the rest of the order more quickly too? She didn’t want her students’ work to take a backseat because she had to prioritise the ghosts but, at the same time, she wanted to do what she could to help the joint venture do well. And, if she was honest, she enjoyed seeing Fraser’s pleasure when she showed him her work. His praise made her feel as though she was doing something right, even if other parts of her life were a little bumpy.
‘Maura.’ Sharon had been quietly working away at the furthest end of the studio but was now gazing plaintively across the room, a lopsided vase on the workbench in front of her. ‘I think I need some help to rescue this. It’s on the wonk.’
Setting down the paintbrush she’d been about to dip into the dark green underglaze, Maura made her way towards her. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she said after a quick assessment. ‘All you need to do is take a bit off the top and then smooth the sides. Here, I’ll show you.’
Chapter Four
On Saturdays, there was a market at Dock Place and the square was filled with cheerful yellow and white canopies as the stallholders tried to tempt the locals to part with their hard-earned cash. It was mostly food, as far as Fraser could tell – fresh bread, seafood, cheese and meat seemed to do especially well, but he saw the occasional craft stall selling handmade cards and other arty goods. It drew a good crowd, even on the days when the weather did not cooperate. Fraser liked to wander through in the morning, when Naomi was still asleep, and pick up something tempting for breakfast. But since she was still in London, he had no one to please but himself and bought a sweet and buttery crepe to eat as he browsed, and a smoky fish pie for lunch. He passed a pottery stall and lingered to study the pieces offered for sale. There was nothing wrong with them – the mugs looked perfectly serviceable and the tea light holders were cute – but Fraser couldn’t help comparing them to Maura’s work and finding them wanting. He moved on without buying anything, then guiltily remembered Maura’s description of watching people pass her own stand without buying. He doubled back then and bought a small wax melt burner that he thought his mum would like.
He spent the afternoon on paperwork, catching up on some admin that was long overdue and drafting the latest edition of the Dead Famous walking tour newsletter for distribution. The next batch of ghosts from Maura would clear the waiting list and leave a handful for general sale – he was tempted to promote the ones that remained to his subscribers. But Maura had made it clear that the full order would take six weeks to fulfil and Fraser was reluctant to take orders so far in advance. He settled for advising Edinburgh Ghost fans to keep an eye on the Dead Famous social media channels for news of upcoming sales.
When his phone rang around four o’clock, he was surprised to see Naomi’s number on the screen. They’d last spoken on Thursday, when she told him she was staying in London for the weekend. Perhaps her plans had changed, he thought as he accepted the call. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How’s life in the big city?’
‘It’s good,’ she said. ‘I ran into your agent last night, at the Ivy. He asked me to check whether you’d seen his email last week. He said it was important. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?’
Fraser thought guiltily about the email he’d deleted without opening. ‘Something about an audition,’ he said. ‘I need to remind him not to bother sending those through. Apart from anything else, I don’t have time.’
‘But what if it’s a big role?’ Naomi asked, and Fraser thought he detected a faint undercurrent of horror in her voice. ‘You’ll miss out.’
‘Then I’ll miss out,’ Fraser replied firmly. ‘Besides, how would I spare the time? The tours are selling out every night – Tom says he had to turn people away all week and I’ve been the same. I’m starting to think I should recruit another guide – the demand seems to be there.’
‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Naomi said, noticeably more enthusiastic. ‘Another guide could take over some of your walks and give you more freedom. That way, you could go to auditions, if the right role came up.’
Fraser scratched his beard. ‘That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about expanding Dead Famous, not stepping back. If I take on someone in addition to Tom and me, they could start an hour later or cover another route. There’s no shortage of stories to tell, that’s for sure.’
There was a long silence. ‘Expanding,’ she said at length. ‘Right.’
‘It makes perfect sense,’ Fraser went on. ‘And if the sales of Maura’s ghosts really take off, we could easily become Edinburgh’s number one walking tour.’
This time, the pause was so long that he thought the line must have gone dead. ‘Are you still there?’ he asked, glancing at the screen.
‘Yes, I’m here,’ she said, although she sounded strangely muted. ‘It’s just…’
Fraser frowned as her voice trailed off. ‘Hello? Naomi, I can’t hear you. Have you got signal where you are?’
The line crackled. ‘It’s not the signal that’s the problem,’ she said. ‘Look, Fraser, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should take a break.’
‘A break?’ Fraser repeated with a burst of incredulity. ‘I’ve just told you how busy I am. I can’t spare the time for holiday right now.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ He heard her take a deep breath. ‘I mean a break from us. I’m not coming back to Edinburgh next week. I’m going to stay in London.’
Fraser sat back against the sofa. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been offered several jobs while I’ve been here – photoshoots I want to take. And, well, the truth is I haven’t been very happy in Edinburgh. It’s okay for you – you’ve got all your friends and the business, but I don’t. So I think a break would do us both good, while we think about what we want.’
