She gave a tiny gasp. ‘Is that me?’

  ‘Yes, I did it from memory.’

  The painting was impressionist but it was clearly a girl, her face not visible but the red bikini clear. She was paddling at the edge of the water and in front of her was the view from Castaway Bay. The main feature in the painting was the seahorse necklace. ‘Nolan, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it and that you’re still wearing the necklace.’

  Bea touched it then pointed to Patsy’s painting, where she was also wearing it.

  ‘Yes, I know. Would you mind if I put this painting in the show?’

  ‘I would be honoured,’ she replied, meaning every word.

  He placed it on the easel, and it completed the exhibition. ‘I know it’s not in a proper gallery but I feel quite emotional seeing all my paintings displayed like this.’

  ‘And so you should. It looks fantastic. What a way to earn money, by doing the job you love from a floating home you renovated. When are you thinking of letting the customers through the door?’

  ‘As soon as you’re back at work.’

  Bea looked down at her ankle. ‘I’m sure I’m going to be all right in the next forty-eight hours or so, but how about in the meantime we do a job swap? I’ll sit here and try and sell your paintings whilst you man The Little Blue Boathouse. It’s a win-win situation.’

  Nolan thought about it for a second then thrust out his hand and shook Bea’s. There it was again, that electrifying feeling that sent shock waves through her body. How did he do that to her every time? ‘Deal. Now let me get you a sandwich. I made some earlier in case you were hungry when you got back from the hospital.’

  ‘You’re a keeper, aren’t you?’ she joked, as he disappeared into the galley and returned with two cheese and ham sandwiches on delicious chunky granary bread, along with a custard tart and a glass of lemonade each.

  ‘This is just what I needed,’ said Bea, tucking into her food. ‘What’s the plan with Martha?’ she asked.

  ‘After I’ve dropped you off at the B&B tonight, I think I’m going to cycle over to Foxglove Farm and pay her a visit. See if I can get myself a reading and have a look at the painting on the wall.’ Nolan was thoughtful for a second whilst he took a bite of his sandwich. ‘I know I’ll recognise my grandfather’s style. I’m so curious to know if he could have painted that picture of Castaway Bay.’

  ‘Ooo, I never thought of that. What if it is his painting?’

  ‘Then I can be quite honest and say the artist was my grandfather and ask if she knew him or Patsy. You never know, I might even get my future predicted.’

  ‘I can predict your future,’ she replied, looking at the paintings displayed. ‘You’re going to become famous as the artist on the floating boat and travel all over the world selling your paintings.’ She smiled, but a tiny part of her hoped the last part wasn’t true. Even though this was Nolan’s dream and he was already putting his plan into action, Bea wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye.

  When they finished their lunch, Nolan checked his watch. ‘I best get back over to the Boathouse. All of Roman’s excursions are full this afternoon and I don’t think there’s a paddleboard or kayak free until gone three-thirty.’

  ‘Why don’t I start here this afternoon? With the sign standing on the jetty, you might get people on board. Tourists like a good mooch. Then everyone’s a winner.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. I may as well be sat here trying to make you money whilst you’re working my shift.’

  A huge smile hitched on Nolan’s face. ‘That would be great. What really excites me is the thought of my paintings hanging in people’s homes and them taking pleasure from looking at them. It sounds daft really.’

  ‘It doesn’t. You have such a talent and it’s cool to think of them hanging in people’s homes.’

  ‘If you sell out there are more stacked up in the corner.’

  Nolan had been busy; there were paintings of Heartcross Castle, Heartcross Mountain, Primrose Park, The Old Bakehouse and even one of the pub, The Grouse and Haggis.

  ‘I’ll do my best to sell them all,’ enthused Bea.

  ‘I’ll get you a jug of water, and there’s books and magazines too, in case it’s quiet.’

  ‘Honestly, I’ll be okay, I’m going to sit here and watch the world go by.’

  ‘That sounds like a perfect afternoon.’

  Tucking the sign under his arm, Nolan jumped back onto dry land and Bea watched as he placed it at the bottom of the jetty. It read Hemingway’s Floating Art Galley with an arrow pointing towards the boat. He turned and gave her a thumbs-up before strolling over and opening up The Little Blue Boathouse.

  As soon as Nolan was out of sight, Bea made herself comfy. She was glad the calmer, warmer weather was back again. With her perfect view of the river, she watched Roman sail the water taxi back towards the jetty, ready to take the next load of diners to The Lakehouse restaurant. Flynn also had other boats out on the water with their own captains ready to take the tourists out on their excursions. The rest of the river was full of boats, and further upstream were the kayaks and paddleboards. Walking along the river path eating ice-creams were hordes of tourists, and Bea hoped they would step on board and take a look at the paintings.

  Her phoned pinged, Emmie’s name staring back at her from the screen. For the last hour she’d managed not to think about their visit this morning and she hesitated to read the message now. All Bea wanted was an afternoon of calm. She was going to take the opportunity to plan her speech for the Heartcross Rescue meeting. Julia had added her to the community WhatsApp group and, judging by the response, it was possible that over a hundred residents might attend the meeting. Rona and Felicity had said they were going to bring big aluminium urns to serve tea and coffee and bake a selection of refreshments too. Bea was feeling nervous but she reflected that all the villagers who had crossed her path so far were friendly and welcoming and everyone was going to benefit from the cause. Still, the volunteers she would need would have to come from the community. Would they have the time to spare from their busy lives?

  ‘Bea!’

  She looked over towards the bank and saw Lucas and Amy waving madly at her. She waved back.

  ‘We’re off to visit Heartcross Castle,’ shouted Amy.

  Bea could see by the look on Lucas’s face that he was excited as he skipped along the riverbank. Knowing that yesterday could have had fatal consequences just increased Bea’s conviction that the community needed a rescue team, a lifeboat and equipment, along with a small headquarters. Noticing a pen and pad on the table, Bea hobbled across and grabbed them before sitting down again. She was going to research the villagers and their businesses and see what she could do to persuade them to get involved. Then she was going to work out numbers, like how many volunteers they would need on a rota at any time. Bea knew it was a huge ask as the rota would be twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, but it would be worth it if they could save even one life.

  Her phone pinged and once again Emmie’s name was on the screen. She read the message and sighed. Carl was on his way back down to speak with her. Just when she thought she was in for a pleasant, quiet afternoon.

  Five minutes later, Bea couldn’t quite believe it. An excursion boat had sailed into the jetty and the majority of the tourists were wandering in her direction. She felt a twinge of excitement at the possibility of making her first sale. Then she saw him – following the crowd was Carl, who’d spotted her sitting on the boat. The timing couldn’t be worse.

  Plastering a smile on her face, Bea welcomed the tourists onto The Hemingway. They breezed between the pictures, giving them lots of praise, and before she knew it, Bea had sold three on the bounce. On the table next to where she sat, Nolan had left tissue paper, paper bags and a card reader. He’d thought of everything. She chatted away to the customers and was trying to enjoy herself, but knowing that Carl was looming at the back of the group was putting her on edge. As soon as she was free, she looked in his direction.

  ‘Are you buying a painting?’ she asked, knowing full well that wasn’t the reason he was here.

  ‘May I?’ He pointed to the chair next to her.

  Bea nodded. He looked upset but this wasn’t something that was new to her. Last time he’d also turned on the tears, promising her the world, but things clearly never changed. She didn’t like to see anyone upset, but he should have thought about how his actions would affect her.

  ‘Please come home. I promise you things will change. I want the same as you, marriage, children, a proper home.’

  ‘When was the last time you asked me what I wanted?’

  ‘I know you don’t want all this…’ He waved his arm around the boat. ‘You don’t really want to be here, do you?’

  Bea felt her heart begin to race for all the wrong reasons. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to be here?’

  ‘Because it’s not home. I know what you like. You like getting in from work and having a brew in the garden no matter how cold it is. You like watching box sets curled up with a box of chocolates with your fluffy throw. You like being a home bird surrounded by what you know. I know I’ve made a mistake and I’m sorry but please let me put this right. Our song is Rick Astley, “Never Going to Give You up”, and that’s my motto. It’s me and you.’

  Bea had to admit that he did look genuinely sorry. He reached across and put his hand on her knee. His eyes were brimming with tears as he pleaded with her.

  She thought about everything he’d said.

  ‘And you’re genuinely sorry?’

  ‘I am,’ he replied.

  ‘I’ll accept your apology.’

  Carl exhaled. ‘I knew you’d come round.’

  Bea wasn’t smiling. ‘Like I’ve just said, I accept your apology but there is no us. That ended when you made a fool out of me for a second time. Yes, I may like all those things you’ve just listed, but I can do them wherever I am,’ she said calmly.

  ‘You don’t belong here. You know you don’t.’ Carl stood up and took a couple of steps forward. He raked his hand through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated. ‘All this is a holiday and you’re turning it into a deluded dream.’ He walked off towards the paintings and Bea hoped he was taking a moment to calm down. He hovered in front of the painting of Patsy and Morgan before moving slowly on to the next then spinning back around towards her. His eyes were wide, and he now looked angry. Bea wasn’t quite sure what was going on but noticed his eyes were fixed on the seahorse necklace hanging around her neck.

  ‘Who’s the artist?’ Carl asked, not taking his eyes off her.

  ‘Nolan Hemingway.’

  Carl pointed at the painting of Bea enjoying her day on Castaway Bay. ‘Is this you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘And are you and him…?’

  The question hung in the air.

  Carl exhaled again. ‘We’ve been through so much together and this is just a blip. There’s always going to be good and bad times and we can get through anything. As a team. Please, can we put everything behind us? I just want you back at home where you belong.’

  Bea didn’t answer.

  ‘Just think about it. Like I said, I’m staying at Starcross Manor. I’ll wait around for you until 8pm tomorrow night. If you don’t turn up, I’ll know you aren’t coming home and I won’t ever contact you again.’ His ultimatum issued, he walked off the boat and made his way up the riverbank.

  Bea was nonplussed. Could they put it all behind them and start again? But then her eyes flicked towards The Little Blue Boathouse, where Nolan was leaning against the door, drinking from a mug. He looked devilishly handsome. He smiled over at her and just his smile raised Bea’s spirits. He waved before disappearing inside.

  Bea glanced towards the little attic room above The Little Blue Boathouse. She was conflicted. Was this just a holiday, a blip in her life, as Carl said? How would she feel about this place once Nolan had left? So many questions were whirling in her mind.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bea let out a squeal, her arms gripped tightly around Nolan’s waist. She was laughing hard as Nolan pedalled the bike over the bumpy ground. With the wind in her hair, she closed her eyes and prayed she didn’t fall off. ‘Slow down, you’re going too fast,’ she bellowed.

  ‘I can’t slow down! If I do, we’ll stop and you’ll fall off. I’ve got some momentum going. Just hold on.’

  With a racing heart, Bea held on for dear life. Although she was protesting, she was enjoying every second of it.

  ‘What I want to know is: how do you not know how to ride a bike?’

  Ten minutes earlier Bea had confessed just that. It wasn’t something that she’d learned as a child and she’d never had reason to think about it since.

  ‘There’s no point when you can have a seat and let someone else do all the hard work.’

  ‘Cheeky!’ Nolan began to swerve in a zig-zag pattern, causing Bea to scream some more and squeeze her eyes shut.

  ‘Stop it!’

  As they raced along the river path Bea reflected that the scenery and company were just perfect. People were out walking and she shouted good evening to all of them as she and Nolan rode past. She always felt so happy and safe in Nolan’s company.

  Turning up the lane towards the B&B, Nolan applied the brakes and brought the bike to a gentle stop outside. Lowering her legs to the ground, Bea steadied herself with Nolan’s help. They both wore wide smiles.

  ‘I have to say, I loved every second of that – even though my bum is a little sore.’

  ‘Not as sore as my ears with you screaming,’ replied Nolan, handing her the crutches. ‘Right, I’m going to carry on with our investigations, and if there is anything to report shall I call back in on my way home?’

  ‘Er, yes! You can’t keep valuable information from your partner. Good luck.’ Without thinking, Bea leaned towards Nolan and placed a swift kiss on his cheek.

  ‘Hemingway and Fernsby are about to crack the case!’ Nolan swung his leg over the bike, pushed off and rang the bell as his legs turned the pedals. She watched him all the way to the end of the lane, where he waved above his head before disappearing around the corner.

  Bea turned around to find Julia watching her through the open window of the reception area.

  ‘Isn’t the first flush of love a wonderful thing?’ She made a heart shape with her hands and placed it against her chest.

  Bea grinned as she rolled her eyes and pointed to the door with her crutch. ‘Would you be kind enough to open the door for me?’

  Julia was immediately up on her feet. ‘Of course, but silence speaks a thousand words, or so the saying goes … or something like that.’

  Bea hadn’t denied it, because she agreed with Julia, but she knew she was going to have to keep hold of those feelings, otherwise in a few weeks’ time her heart was going to be smashed into smithereens when Nolan left Heartcross.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nolan cycled up the long drive of Foxglove Farm. The magnificent farmhouse stood in front of him and he could see the appeal of living here. Checking the signpost, he followed the path to the right and immediately saw the vintage caravan, which was just as Bea had described. There was no sign of life. As Nolan propped his bike up at the side of the van, he suddenly felt nervous.

  ‘Who goes there?’

  He nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Martha had opened the door without him noticing and was peering through the beaded curtain.

  ‘Hi, it’s Nolan. We met briefly the night of the storm.’

  ‘We did. And what can I do for you?’

  Nolan wasn’t sure but thought it seemed as though Martha was a little on edge. ‘Have you got time to do me a reading?’ he asked, unsure whether he actually wanted her to look into his future. But he needed to engage Martha in conversation if he wanted to see the painting inside the caravan, and this seemed the only way.

  Martha parted the curtains and Nolan made his way past the potted cherry-red geraniums.

  ‘Money in the bowl. Five pounds.’

  Rummaging in his pocket, Nolan pulled out a five pound note and stepped inside the caravan. It was exactly how Bea had described it. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the paintings on the wall.

  ‘Take a seat. It’s very unusual I get a man wanting to know their fortune.’ Martha was watching him closely. ‘Usually, they think it’s a pile of claptrap.’

  ‘I’m willing to give it a go,’ replied Nolan. ‘It’s a very lovely van you have here. I love your paintings. I’m an artist.’

  ‘I know. I’ve seen your paintings for sale outside The Little Blue Boathouse. You’re very talented.’

  ‘Thank you. I think I get that from my grandfather.’ Nolan pointed to the painting on the wall. Taking his chance, he said, ‘I’ve been there. It was one of my grandfather’s favourite spots. He wrote about it in his logbook.’

  ‘Logbook?’ queried Martha.

  ‘My grandfather sailed the seas and the rivers. He logged every trip. Even one to Heartcross many moons ago.’ Nolan looked towards the painting. ‘He had fond memories of that bay.’

  An odd silence descended for a moment, but Nolan decided to press on. ‘I’ve just renovated his old boat – The Hemingway. It was his pride and joy. But I shouldn’t be giving anything away, should I?’ He gave a little chuckle. Martha seemed preoccupied and avoided eye contact with him as she stared into the crystal ball.

  ‘Have you been in this area long?’ he asked, taking the seat opposite her.

  ‘All my life,’ replied Martha. ‘Shall we start?’

  Realising she wasn’t going to answer his questions, he nodded.

  ‘You need to remember my reading isn’t set in stone. Your destiny is in your own hands.’ Still concentrating on the crystal ball in front of her, Martha began to run her hands frantically over it. Suddenly, she paused. Pulling her veil over her head, she said, ‘I’m sorry to see your grandfather has passed away.’