‘Fraser.’
Glancing around, he saw Marco Minelli striding towards him, looking exactly as he had on every glossy magazine cover and in every interview Fraser had ever seen him give. He wore a navy blue roll-neck jumper and jeans, and his hand was outstretched in greeting.
‘It’s good to meet you at last.’
‘You too,’ Fraser said. Up close, Minelli’s wavy black hair was threaded with grey and the skin around his eyes was criss-crossed with fine lines as he smiled. His olive tan owed much to his Mediterranean roots, although Fraser knew he’d grown up in America. The handshake was firm but not intimidatingly so. He exuded presence, demanded attention, to the point where Fraser hadn’t even noticed Krystal following him into the room. She skirted round the sofa to place two cups on the coffee table, before backtracking to scoop up Fraser’s jacket and disappearing into the hall. She returned a moment later and took a seat at the far end of the sofa Marco Minelli had just settled into.
Fraser sat too. The coffee steamed invitingly but he didn’t dare reach for it in case his hands shook and caused the cup to rattle against the saucer, which would seriously undermine the chilled out professionalism he was trying to project. Nowthat he was face to face with Minelli, the armour provided by decades of experience seemed to have fallen away – he might as well be in his first year of drama school for all the quaking anxiety rumbling through him. It didn’t help that the director’s dark eyes were fixed upon him, his brows drawn together in an assessing frown as though he knew exactly how Fraser was shaking inside. It was hardly Leading Man energy.
‘Sam tells me you’re taking a break from acting,’ Minelli said, without preamble. ‘Do you mind if I ask why?’
It was a question Fraser had been expecting. ‘I lost the hunger for it,’ he said simply. ‘I still loved telling stories but the desire to fight a hundred other actors for each role disappeared. I realised I was just going through the motions, so I decided to try something new.’
‘Your ghost stories at the castle,’ Minelli said, nodding. ‘I read about that.’
A hot rush of embarrassment blossomed in the pit of Fraser’s stomach. Coming from such an accomplished director, the job he’d abandoned acting for sounded ridiculously trivial. He willed his cheeks not to redden. ‘It’s reignited my love of performing. The immediacy of the audience reaction has reminded me why I got into acting in the first place.’
The director studied him thoughtfully. ‘It’s a tough business, that’s for sure. Anything that reminds us why we do it is worth pursuing.’ He shifted on the sofa, leaning back to contemplate Fraser with an unwavering gaze. ‘How much do you know about my work?’
Fraser took a breath. He’d anticipated this question too, had spent several hours reading up on Minelli’s past projects and directorial style. ‘I know you’re a perfectionist,’ he began. ‘You demand the best from everyone you work with, whether that’s your actors, the sound engineers or the post-production colourist. You’re prepared to cut entire scenes if they don’tcome up to scratch and you aren’t afraid to take risks. You’re innovative, brilliant and uncompromising, which is why your work stands head and shoulders above the competition, and why you win awards. You do things differently.’
Minelli showed no reaction to the glowing praise. He continued to regard Fraser. ‘All of that might be true, but at the heart of it, I’m a storyteller like you. It’s an ancient instinct. Those who could weave a tale around the fire have always been revered, and with good reason – it’s the most powerful magic we have. Which means that for all the awards, we’re chasing the same thing, you and I, even if our chosen vehicle is a little different – to make the audiencefeel.’
Fraser sat in silence for a moment. He’d told himself on the way up that Minelli was only human but he hadn’t expected him to exude so much warmth and, well, humanity. No one could deny the gulf in status between the two of them but Minelli had taken the trouble to establish them as equals. ‘There’s nothing quite like that moment of connection,’ he agreed.
The director continued to regard him. ‘How about you do that now?’
Every one of Fraser’s senses jolted at the same time. He fought the panic, striving to appear calm and relaxed, as though Hollywood directors made this kind of demand every day. ‘Sorry, I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Tell me a story,’ he said. ‘Make me feel something – laughter, sadness, whatever you like. Anything goes except nothing.’
Fraser swallowed. ‘What kind of story?’
‘How about one of your ghost tour tales?’ Minelli suggested. ‘And don’t worry, it’s not an audition. I decided I wanted you for my next movie long before I met you today.’
Sam had said as much, Fraser recalled, but it still didn’t make any sense. There had been plenty of television roles throughout his career – he was quite proud of some – but he still had no ideahow any of them had come to the attention of Marco Minelli. Was it simply that he fitted the physical characteristics of the part the director had in mind? Nick Borrowdale had read the script and observed Fraser would be perfect for the role – could that be all it was? However it had happened, he was here now, sitting opposite the most well-connected and influential man he was ever likely to meet. And he wanted to hear a story.
Raising his head, he set himself to address both Minelli and Krystal, and took refuge in familiarity. ‘If you’ve ever been to Edinburgh, you’ll know the city has a long and bloody history. So perhaps it isn’t a surprise there’s no shortage of graveyards tucked within its walls. The dead need somewhere to rest, after all, and the living somewhere to mourn. And for the most part, those departed souls lie undisturbed.’ Nerves settling a fraction, Fraser allowed his gaze to flick between them as he let the pause stretch. ‘For the most part. Until the body snatchers began their grisly trade.
‘No recently buried corpse was safe. Grieving relatives did their best to watch over the graveyards but medical science paid well for fresh bodies and didn’t ask too many questions about where they came from. That made the Resurrection Men cunning and resourceful – they hunted on moonless nights to fill their sacks with the dead. And when they were denied their prize by a determined mob, their thoughts turned to how else they might earn the money. Who among their community might not be missed? Who would be easy to murder? Enter William Burke and William Hare – the most infamous body snatchers of them all…’
He described how the pair had discovered the body of Old Donald, a lodger in Hare’s house on Tanners Close behind Grassmarket. Donald had died of natural causes but he had owed Hare rent, so they settled on selling his body to the eminent city doctor, Robert Knox. The payment more thancovered the debt but Burke and Hare were not satisfied with the profit. Another lodger was unwell and it wasn’t long before his body was delivered to Dr Knox. Greed took control of the men, who began to lure beggars and prostitutes to Tanners Close, plying them with whisky before smothering them as they slept.
‘They murdered seventeen people before suspicions were finally raised and they were caught,’ he went on solemnly. ‘Hare begged for immunity, turning on Burke and accusing him of killing the victims. It worked – Burke was executed for their crimes, while Hare escaped to London. A change in the law in 1832 meant bodies could no longer be bought for cash, and both the living and the dead could rest a little easier.’
Minelli’s expression was unreadable but Krystal was leaning forward. Wide-eyed and rapt, she seemed to have followed the entire tale without breathing.
‘But Edinburgh’s streets have a long memory and, as Lord Macbeth observed when confronted by the ghost of a murdered friend, “blood will have blood”. So take care when wandering the narrow wynds and closes that twist away from the Royal Mile. On a dark and starless night, you might just run into the murderous spirit of William Burke, whisky bottle in one hand and a blood-stained cushion in the other. It’s said he sang to his victims as he smothered them. I suggest, if you hear a mournful crooning, you run and don’t look back.’
He finished by slamming one of the scatter cushions into his hand, and had the immense satisfaction of seeing both Minelli and his assistant jump. Krystal squeaked, covering her mouth in shock, while Minelli’s expression simply split into a wide grin.
‘Now that is what I’m talking about.’
‘I’m not sure I’m ever going back to Edinburgh,’ Krystal said weakly.
Parched, Fraser reached for his now cool coffee, amused to notice his hand was steady as he lifted the cup and saucer. ‘Justkeep to the main streets and you’ll be fine,’ he said, then paused to recall the tale of the ghostly piper who played beneath the Royal Mile. ‘Mostly fine, at least.’
The assistant jumped to her feet. ‘I think we could all use some fresh coffee.’
