Page 11 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane: Part 2
Fraser smiled. ‘I try.’
‘I’d love to hear more about the stories behind the ghosts,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Have you got time to go for a drink? I’m buying.’
He looked at her then, because there was no doubt that she was interested in much more than his stories. For a nanosecond, he was tempted; she was blonde and attractive, if ten years too young for him, and her interest was flattering. But it wouldn’t be fair to encourage her, no matter how much he could do with the ego boost. He shook his head. ‘Not tonight, I’m afraid. But thanks for coming along. Hope to see you again soon.’
If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it, which made Fraser wonder whether he’d got the wrong end of the stick. ‘No problem,’ she said, smiling. ‘It was just an idea.’
Once Zoe had gone, Fraser turned his attention to the others who had hung around, obviously waiting for an opportunity to speak to him. He accepted their effusive praise with thanks, recommended the other Dead Famous tour run by Tom, and advised them to sign up for the newsletter for details of new tours and Edinburgh Ghost releases.
As the last stragglers began to drift away, Fraser found himself presented with a business card. ‘My name is Alistair Caldwell. I work for Edinburgh City Council,’ the man said.
‘Hello,’ Fraser said as he took the card, wondering uneasily if he had inadvertently broken one of the city’s ordnances. ‘Can I help you with something?’
The man smiled. ‘I hope so. Part of my job is to support and encourage tourism in Edinburgh, and we hold occasional networking meetings to allow various stakeholders to meet up and swap ideas.’
Fraser eyed him warily. ‘Who do you mean by stakeholders?’
Alistair Caldwell shrugged. ‘Some are storytellers, like yourself, or in similarly creative industries. Others represent the city’s larger tourist attractions, like the castle or Mary King’s Close. It’s all quite informal, with wine and nibbles. There’s one in a few weeks, if you’re interested in joining us. It’s being held in the City Chambers, opposite where your tour starts.’
‘I know it,’ Fraser said as he studied the card. The City Chambers were housed in the old Royal Exchange, accessed through a series of ornate arches that lead to a cobbled courtyard boasting a magnificent bronze statue of Alexander taming the warhorse Bucephalus. It was a splendidly elaborate building that Fraser imagined had plenty of stories to tell, and it wouldn’t do his business any harm to network a little. If there was one thing he had learned from a hundred after-show parties, it was that opportunities sometimes came from the most unexpected places. ‘Thanks, Mr Caldwell. I’ll see what I can do.’
The man looked pleased. ‘My email address is on the card. Drop me a line and I can send you more details. And thank you for the tour. It really was excellent.’ With a final nod, he left Fraser alone.
Tucking the business card into his pocket, Fraser set off for Princes Street and the tram that would take him back to Leith. It had turned out to be an unexpectedly interesting evening.
Chapter Five
There were many things Maura loved about living in Edinburgh but the city centre traffic was not one of them. She was on her way to drop off a delivery of vases to Morningside Gallery, less than three miles away from Dean Village, but a journey that should have taken around ten minutes had lasted more than half an hour and she was still a few minutes away from Morningside Road. It was a good thing she wasn’t in a hurry.
Eilish Swan, the gallery owner, spotted her through the wide bay windows and hurried to greet her. ‘Let me get that for you,’ she said, pulling the door back to allow Maura to edge inside with the box of ceramics. ‘Did you manage to get parked or are you on the double yellows?’
‘I’m in the bay by the florists,’ Maura said.
Eilish smiled and took the box from her. ‘Then let’s see what you’ve brought me today.’
A flutter of nerves rippled through Maura as the gallery owner lifted the first vase out. She didn’t know why she was worried – Eilish had never been anything other than thrilled with the ceramics Maura had brought to the gallery. This vase was asymmetric, with one curve swirling above the other like a wave. She’d glazed the inside a deep emerald green, like the depths of the ocean, while the outside was a speckled foam green with white flecks along the rim. Eilish looked up, her eyes shining. ‘It’s beautiful. Really stunning.’
The butterflies subsided. ‘There’s a companion piece – the same shape with a reversal of the colour scheme.’
Eilish set the first vase carefully to one side and dug into the box again. When she’d unwrapped the second piece, she put them next to each other. ‘That’s the new window display sorted,’ she said with evident satisfaction. ‘I’ve a couple of breathtaking seascapes by Juliana Cruickshank that will complement these perfectly.’
Maura smiled, pleased at the thought of being displayed alongside Juliana’s paintings. ‘Great. I popped another bowl in there as well, since you said you’d sold the last one.’
Eilish nodded as she unwound the protective packaging from the bowl. ‘Business has been brisk and your work is always snapped up quickly. I could sell everything you bring me two or three times over.’
Maura thought of her packed kiln, and the shelves of unfired pieces that silently berated her every time she walked past them. ‘If only I had a clone,’ she said wryly. ‘And a bigger kiln.’
But Eilish didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she was frowning down at the box. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, pulling something small and pale from its depths. ‘Have you picked up a hitchhiker?’
‘Oh!’ Maura exclaimed as she recognised one of the ghosts she had been packing for Fraser that morning. ‘How did that get in there?’
‘I don’t know but I love it,’ Eilish said. ‘What’s it for?’
Maura explained how she’d met Fraser and started to produce the ghosts.
‘No wonder you need a bigger kiln,’ Eilish said, when she’d finished. ‘Edinburgh Ghosts, unique to the city and handmade by you. I bet they’re selling like hot cakes.’
‘They seem to be popular,’ Maura agreed. ‘But I think that’s down to Fraser’s brilliant storytelling. Anyone could make these.’
