Maura glanced at her plate, which seemed to contain six already, as well as a mountain of carrots and parsnips. Around the table, her family were helping themselves, piling their own plates with food. Or at least, her father and brother-in-law were – Kirsty was still expertly picking out the things her children would eat and trying to hide some vegetables underneath. There had never been a surplus of roast potatoes at the end of a Sunday afternoon, as far as Maura could recall, and unless her mother had gone a bit mad with the King Edwards before everyone arrived, she couldn’t see that there would be many to wastetoday. ‘Why don’t I start with what you’ve given me and take another if I need it?’
‘Are you sure?’ her mother asked. ‘You look terribly thin.’
So that was it, Maura thought, and flashed a suspicious look at Kirsty, who seemed to be studiously ignoring her. ‘I’m fine, Mum. Like I said, I can get more if I need to.’
‘All the more for us,’ her dad said cheerfully.
She watched as her laden plate was passed down the table. Sundays at her parents’ always followed the same slightly chaotic pattern: too much food as they caught up with each other’s news, punctuated by the occasional scream from one or both of the children and the occasional eye-watering smell from Mitzi, the elderly spaniel they had rescued the year before. Since the break-up with Jamie, Maura had become aware of her mother surreptitiously trying to feed her up and she was sure Kirsty was a co-conspirator, but she didn’t really mind. Nor did Mitzi, who had settled at her feet in dribbly, wide-eyed expectation.
‘How’s the exhibition looking?’ her mother asked, sitting down with her own plate filled. ‘Did you get all the pieces where you wanted them?’
Maura nodded. Catriona had arranged for her to drive into the castle early on Saturday morning to deliver the ceramics for the exhibition and they had spent several hours laying them out on the plinths and tables. Some had display cards explaining how the piece related to the castle, others simple bore the name of the item and Maura’s own name as the artist. She’d also provided some information about herself, which Catriona had turned into boards that were dotted around the walls; it had been quite unnerving to see a giant version of her own face whenever she’d turned around in the barracks. The exhibition would open first thing on Monday morning – a fact she was bothexcited and nervous about. She’d done all she could. Only time would tell if it would be a success.
‘It’s all done,’ she said. ‘We had a few problems persuading one of the bowls to stay in place but we got there in the end.’
‘I can’t wait to visit,’ her mother said, a glint of pride in her eyes. ‘A display at the castle, no less. And I see your friend Fraser is making headlines. There was a full-page story in the paper about his new film.’
She should have expected as much, Maura thought. Weeks had passed since Fraser had told her he’d accepted the part – long enough for the Tinseltown gossip to filter through to the press. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d looked at a newspaper but her parents still had one delivered every day. On Sundays it was a bumper edition, accompanied by a magazine, and she could easily imagine a glowing piece about Marco Minelli’s latest star gracing its pages. ‘Oh?’ she said, striving for a casual tone. ‘What did it say?’
She saw Kirsty flash their mother a look that appeared to go completely over her head. ‘Just that he’d been cast in a Hollywood blockbuster and that he was tipped to be the next big thing. There was a photo of him leaving a nightclub.’
‘Really?’ Maura couldn’t recall Fraser spending much time amid Edinburgh’s club scene but she supposed being seen in the most fashionable places was part of a movie star’s job.
‘It was a restaurant,’ Kirsty corrected. ‘Not a club.’
‘And there was a gushy comment from his girlfriend,’ her mother went on. ‘She’s an actress too, isn’t she? What’s her name again?’
Maura felt her appetite wither away. Unless Fraser had fallen into a whirlwind new romance, there was only one person the press would laud as his girlfriend. ‘Naomi.’
‘That’s right. I seem to remember you telling me they’d split up, but I suppose they’ve got back together, as these celebrity couples seem to do.’
Kirsty frowned as she glanced Maura’s way. ‘I’m not sure that’s the obvious assumption.’
Head spinning, Maura stared at her plate. It wasn’t impossible for Fraser to have rekindled things with Naomi. From what he’d said, being based in Edinburgh had been a major source of friction between them and it didn’t seem as though that was going to be a problem now. ‘It could be true.’
‘It calls her his “on-off girlfriend” and says they broke up months ago.’ Kirsty shook her head dismissively. ‘It’s just filler to go with the story. They don’t have anything else on him and gossip sells, remember?’
That was definitely true, Maura had to concede. All the same, she wouldn’t be surprised if there had been a reconciliation – glamorous Naomi would fit right into the A-lister lifestyle. The mental image caused a needle of irritation to prick at her insides.
Pushing the thought away, she looked up to see Kirsty watching her through slightly narrowed eyes. She forced herself into a carefree shrug. ‘I’m pleased for him,’ she said stoutly, and decided it was time to change the subject. ‘What have you been up to, Mum? Any updates on the new bus shelter in the village?’
It did the trick. Her mother launched into an impassioned tirade about the bureaucracy of the parish council and Fraser was forgotten. Or at least, Maura thought he was.
Her sister cornered her in the garden after the table had been cleared, and Maura knew the expression she wore only too well. ‘Everything okay?’ Kirsty asked, holding out a mug of tea. ‘Only, you seemed a bit out of sorts earlier. When we were talking about Fraser.’
‘I’m fine,’ Maura replied, trying to sound blasé. ‘It’s just a bit weird to see him splashed across the papers.’
Kirsty eyed her askance. ‘He’s been in the papers before, when he did those tours at the castle.’
‘That’s different,’ Maura said, her tone a shade defensive even to her own ears. ‘You know it is. It’s… it’s like he’s another person. Someone who looks like the Fraser I know but isn’t actually him.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, that sounds ridiculous.’
‘No, I get that,’ Kirsty said. ‘Have you heard from him much?’
Maura nodded. She couldn’t fault him on that score – he’d messaged almost every day, checking in and asking how she was. He hadn’t mentioned Minelli or the film much, but she supposed he wasn’t allowed to. ‘That’s what’s I meant by ridiculous – nothing’s really changed. We’re still business partners, still friends.’ She stopped, uncomfortably aware that Kirsty possessed an uncanny knack of seeing more than Maura wanted her to. ‘For now, at least.’
Her sister reached out to touch her cheek. ‘You’ll be okay. I know it’s been a rollercoaster of a year but you’ve got us. We’re not going anywhere.’
The warmth of the gesture kindled a spark of gratitude in Maura’s bruised heart. She smiled and took Kirsty’s hand. ‘I know. Thank you.’
