She blinked. That gave her around two months – less time than she’d like, once she factored in the ongoing ghost order from Fraser. But a message from Lisa, the last of her Thursday morning students, was still fresh in her mind.
The first cancellation had arrived from Nina a few days earlier. All three of the Thursday group had been known to take breaks from the studio, dipping in and out as their commitments allowed, but Nina had been the most openly disgruntled about the length of time it had taken to fire recent pieces. Maura wanted to point out that she’d never made any promises – the kiln ran when she had enough to fill the different types of firings and there was an unspoken agreement among all of her students that her own work sometimes took priority.
The unexpected success of Fraser’s ghosts meant pressure on the kiln had increased and, after the initial sting of Nina’s message had subsided, Maura had consoled herself that atemporary drop in the number of students she worked with might not be a bad thing. Jude’s message arrived a few hours after Nina’s, citing an increase in working hours, and Lisa’s had dropped that morning, which left Thursdays mornings clear in Maura’s diary. She still had her Tuesday morning students, thankfully, but she was beginning to wonder if the universe was trying to tell her something. No pieces to fire from Nina, Jude or Lisa meant more space in the kiln, which would allow Maura to experiment with fresh ideas.
‘I’d need to see the room,’ she said slowly, aware she’d been lost in her own thoughts for longer than was socially acceptable.
Ewan spread his hands. ‘I can take you there now. And it goes without saying that we’ll be paying you. I thought we might negotiate a flat fee, with the potential to mark items as reserved on a commission basis if someone takes a fancy to them.’
Again, Maura’s thoughts flew to the trio of messages on her phone, and the corresponding hole in her income. Breaking up with Jamie might not have left her worrying about keeping a roof over her head, but she still had bills to pay. ‘That sounds perfect,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound too grateful.
‘Excellent,’ he said, rubbing his hands together in brisk satisfaction. ‘Why don’t I show you the space and then you can have a think about it before you make a final decision.’
The barracks were a series of low-ceilinged stone rooms. As Ewan had said, they were currently housing an intimidating display of sixteenth-century armour, but even so, Maura could see the potential of the space. The windows were small, a handful of diamond-shaped panes split by lead that didn’t allow much daylight in, but spotlights had been fitted overhead, illuminating the displays with clean, bright brilliance.
Standing in the centre of the room, Maura turned in a slow, deliberate circle, taking care not to rattle the nearest suit of armour. Narrow tables could line the walls and a series of islands at differing heights in the middle would make an arresting focal point, she thought, with sculptures to represent the volcanic foundations of Castle Rock, the stone magnificence of the man-made structure that sat on top of it and the nearby North Sea that had made the site such a logical choice for a stronghold. She might even try to capture a flavour of the challenges the city had borne as it evolved into the thriving capital it was now.
‘What do you think?’ Ewan asked.
Maura took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got one or two ideas,’ she said cautiously. ‘Leave it with me.’
The first person she wanted to call, once Ewan had escorted her through the gatehouse and left her on the esplanade, was Fraser. It was thanks to him that she had this opportunity in the first place, and she knew he would be delighted for her. But she kept her phone resolutely in her pocket, resisting the urge to dial his number.
While she had no doubt he’d forgotten the moment she’d all but thrown herself at him, in the early days after breaking up with Jamie, Maura herself had not. Fraser had been far too kind to mention it – had been his usual friendly, concerned self – and Maura would rather gargle with glass than raise the subject. But she’d be lying if she said the impulse to ask him to stay had been a fleeting thought.
It had grown over the weeks that followed, nurtured by the care he took to check in with her, making sure she was eating and sleeping rather than spending half the night working. On one occasion, he’d turned up with a bag filled with all the foods he knew she liked. She’d almost burst into tears – how long had it been since she’d been looked after like this? And yet she knew he was acting as a friend. He’d told her so when he’d turned herdown. It hadn’t been a flat, horrified rejection, but one couched in understanding; what she’d needed then was an ally, not a one-night stand that would ruin their business relationship as well as their friendship. And he had been tempted to say yes. Maura hugged that admission to herself whenever mortification threatened to overwhelm her. Could she dare to hope that he was being a friend to her now, when she was getting over the break-up with Jamie, so that he could be more in the future? She didn’t know, and the thought of testing the boundaries of friendship again made her feel hot and cold with anticipation and dread.
She would call Kirsty first, she decided, as she began to make her way towards Castlehill. Her sister’s no-nonsense attitude would ensure Maura wasn’t getting swept away by the enticing prospect of an exhibition of her own at such a prestigious venue. Kirsty would demand to know how Maura planned to fit the work in, as well as offer an opinion on the fee she could reasonably negotiate.
And then, once Kirsty’s pragmatism had brought her back down to earth, she might allow herself to call Fraser.
‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
Sharon had arrived at the studio early on Tuesday morning, her expression both set and hopeful as she took off her coat.
‘Have you?’ Maura said, somewhat warily. She knew that look. Mostly she’d seen it when Sharon first started classes, when she had been determined to ignore Maura’s advice with regard to a technique or glaze. It meant she had already made her mind up and it had generally ended badly, at least where her pottery was concerned.
The other woman nodded. ‘You need help with the ghosts. I like helping you. So why don’t I come in one day a week and,well, help you properly?’ She fired an appealing look at Maura before hurrying on. ‘That way, I can make my own things on Tuesdays, and still do the ghosts another day. You wouldn’t have to pay me – it would be a privilege to do it and I’d be learning a lot. I thought maybe Thursdays, since you don’t have any students now.’ She stopped talking and stared at Maura, wide-eyed and slightly breathless.
Maura’s first instinct was to say no – she didn’t need an assistant, or an apprentice, or whatever it was Sharon was suggesting. But the prospect of the exhibition made her pause. The truth was that Sharon had been an enormous help over the past weeks, along with Effie and Cordelia, and it was quite likely Maura would need to rely on her again as she began working on the new project. Perhaps the idea wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It might even be a way of saying thank you. She held up a hand. ‘First of all, I’d absolutely pay you. It wouldn’t be much but that’s non-negotiable.’
Sharon opened her mouth to object but Maura shook her head. ‘No, don’t argue. Apart from that…’ She took a deep breath and let it out again as a smile crept across her face. ‘Apart from that, I think it’s a great idea and I’d be over the moon to work with you. When can you start?’
Sharon beamed at her. ‘Is this week too soon?’
Chapter Two
It was no good, Fraser thought as Sam’s number flashed up on the screen of his phone for the second time that morning. After weeks of hitting mute, he was going to have to speak to his agent.
‘Finally!’ Sam’s voice exploded from the speaker the moment the call connected. ‘I was beginning to think you’d lost both your hands in some terrible supernatural accident.’
Fraser perched on the edge of his sofa. ‘I’ve replied to your emails,’ he said defensively. ‘Some of your emails.’
‘Two,’ Sam said. ‘And that was months ago. Where have you been, Fraser? Under a tombstone?’
That caused the corners of Fraser’s mouth to twitch. ‘You know where I’ve been,’ he said after a moment. ‘In Edinburgh, running walking tours. I’m not acting anymore, remember?’
‘Of course I remember,’ Sam huffed. ‘But I have Marco Minelli’s people breathing down my neck. He wants you for his new blockbuster and he won’t take no for an answer.’
