Kirsty peered over her shoulder. ‘No Jamie?’
Maura fought to keep her tone light. ‘Nope. He’s sleeping off a heavy night.’
‘Ah,’ Kirsty said, and adopted an innocent expression. ‘Another one?’
Maura’s first instinct was to spring to Jamie’s defence and gloss over the fact that he hadn’t managed to make it home. But Kirsty had a point – last night was the latest in a long line of heavy nights and Maura was beginning to feel weary of making excuses. Even so, she wasn’t sure she was ready to share all the details of Jamie’s behaviour with her sister. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said. ‘Let me go and say hello to Mum and Dad first.’
If her parents were surprised at Jamie’s absence, they didn’t show it, and Maura was glad of their unquestioning acceptance. Lunch around the crowded kitchen table was the usual comforting mix of good food, laughter and mild chaos. Kirsty’s husband, Dougal, was on cheerful form and their two children, Ciara and Teddy, endeavoured to outdo each other in their efforts to impress their grandparents and Aunt Maura. Conversation ranged from the up and down fortunes of the local football club to an intricate but mysterious collection of knitted decorations that had sprung up around the village.
‘No one knows who made them,’ Maura’s mum Judith said, her expression intrigued. ‘The one on top of the postbox appeared in the dead of night last Tuesday and there’s knitted bunting wrapped around the doorposts of the pub too. They left a woollen poppy wreath at the war memorial, even though it’s only April.’
‘Maybe there’s a secret society of yarn bombers in the village, communicating through the medium of knitting,’ Kirsty suggested. ‘You should investigate.’
Dougal sat forward, his eyes twinkling. ‘This has all the makings of a smash hit Netflix series. I’d watch it.’
‘Maybe Fraser could star in it,’ Kirsty said, turning to Maura. ‘I know you said he’s taking a break from acting but I bet he’d come back for something like this.’
‘Fraser?’ Maura’s mum repeated. ‘Who’s he?’
Maura opened her mouth to answer but Kirsty beat her to it. ‘Maura’s new friend.’
‘My new business partner,’ Maura corrected. ‘I told you about this ages ago, Mum. We were in the same year at St Ignatius. I’ve been making a few ceramics for him.’
‘You didn’t tell me he was an actor,’ Judith grumbled. ‘Is he one of those pretty types or does he do characters?’
‘His name is Fraser Bell,’ Kirsty supplied, once again before Maura could speak. ‘And he’s definitely pretty.’
Dougal threw her a mildly affronted look. ‘Oh, aye? You kept that quiet when you came home after the ghost tour.’
Maura’s father, Grant, who had been following the conversation like a tennis match, looked confused. ‘I thought you said he’s an actor. Was he dressed up as a ghost?’
‘Woooooo!’ Ciara intoned around a mouthful of roast potato, wiggling her fingers to emphasise her spookiness. Teddy joined in, several decibels louder, sending a spoonful of carrot flying through the air.
‘No, he runs the tour,’ Maura said over the din, wishing Kirsty hadn’t mentioned Fraser at all. ‘He’s a really gifted storyteller. The business is doing well.’
‘I’m not surprised, if he’s good looking,’ Judith said. ‘How exciting. I’ll have to look him up – find out if he’s been in anything I’ve seen.’
Maura didn’t mentionDeath in Dorset, or any of the other roles she’d discovered Fraser had played. With a bit of luck, her mother would have forgotten his name by the end of the meal. ‘It’s no big deal. Like I said, he’s taking a break from acting.’
Kirsty gave her a mischievous grin as she got up to retrieve the airborne carrot. ‘I’ll send you a link, Mum.’
After lunch, they took a stroll around the village, ostensibly to allow Ciara and Teddy to get some fresh air but Maura and Kirsty privately agreed that it was really an excuse for their mother to check whether any more yarn bombing had been perpetrated.
‘So what’s the story with Jamie?’ Kirsty asked as they ambled along behind their parents and Dougal with Teddy in the buggy.
Maura glanced down at four-year-old Ciara, who was clinging onto her hand with a limpet-like grip and humming to herself. ‘Oh, you know. The usual.’
Her sister nodded.
‘What time did he get home?’
Maura sighed. ‘About half past one.’
‘In the morning?’ Her sister glanced at her. ‘That’s not so bad.’
‘In the afternoon.’
‘Ouch.’ Kirsty winced. ‘No wonder he needed to sleep it off. Did he tell you where he’d been?’
