‘Yes, that’s right. I’m retracing some of my grandfather’s voyages.’ Nolan picked up a leather-bound book. ‘This is the Hemingway’s logbook. My grandfather logged every voyage he ever sailed.’ Nolan carefully opened the book and Bea saw how precise it was. There was entry after entry with the date and voyage details, and all in such neat, precise handwriting.

  ‘Just look at that. All the history, the places your grandfather has visited. And are you sailing all these trips?’

  ‘Just a few,’ shared Nolan, closing the book. ‘When I was a little boy, my grandfather shared his stories from his latest adventures on the water whenever he returned. He convinced me he’d fought pirates, tackled sea monsters and fought sharks. He was the best storyteller. He told me his princess lived in the tiny village of Heartcross up in the Scottish Highlands and worked at The Little Blue Boathouse. One day she would be his queen. That story always stuck in my head and I suppose that’s why I’m here. I wanted to see this place and it’s exactly how my grandfather described it.’

  Bea brought her hands up to her chest. ‘How romantic,’ she said, taking another glance at the bottles.

  ‘Very,’ replied Nolan. ‘You never know, history may have a habit of repeating itself.’

  Bea lifted her head and gazed towards him. ‘Single?’ she asked calmly, even though her heart was hammering in anticipation of the answer.

  For a brief second the question hung in the air.

  ‘I am,’ he replied.

  Goosebumps prickled every inch of her body. ‘That’s good then.’ The words left her mouth before she could stop them. He looked directly into her eyes. Neither of them faltered.

  ‘And yourself?’

  ‘Single, for about forty-eight hours … since I discovered my fiancé has been sleeping, yet again, with an old family friend. I stumbled across his Facebook messages, an app which he claimed he didn’t have or use.’

  ‘Yet again?’

  ‘A different family friend from last time.’

  ‘Ouch! What an idiot he is.’

  ‘I can’t disagree with you there.’

  ‘Together long?’

  ‘My childhood sweetheart. But not such a sweetheart anymore. Hence the reason I’m here. I’m taking time off work to heal my broken heart.’

  ‘And how’s that going?’ asked Nolan, watching her closely.

  ‘Funnily enough, it seems to be mending pretty fast,’ she replied with a grin, taking another look around the cosy living room. ‘I wouldn’t be able to spend months sailing around the seas,’ she said, changing the subject.

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘I suppose because I’m not financially secure. You’d need a few quid in the bank.’

  ‘I beg to differ. Why do you need to be financially secure? Make money as you go. There’s a whole world out there. Why would anyone want to be stuck in the same place day in and day out, when you can wake up in a different bay each day? You get two lives in the world and the second one begins when you realise you only have one.’

  Bea admired Nolan’s thinking. ‘But isn’t it scary, not having a routine? Not knowing where you’re going to end up?’

  ‘Taking chances and living a carefree life is the best feeling in the world. Life is for the living and if you don’t live it, what’s the point?’ He put his hand in the small of her back. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the rest.’

  In the whole of her life, Bea couldn’t remember when she’d done anything out of the ordinary – except for now. This was the first time she had been away from her town by herself and, if she stopped and thought about it, it felt quite liberating. Her mother and father had worked the same jobs since they were sixteen years old. They had a sense of pride working for the same company for so long and looked forward to receiving their gold-plated carriage clock for fifty years of dedicated service. She supposed that’s what had been expected of her. She could remember her father’s words: ‘Jobs are hard to come by. When you get one you work hard and work your way up the ranks and you will be valued.’ Bea felt far from valued in her work and her home life. There had been no room for promotion for the general staff that stacked the shelves and worked the tills, yet graduates were brought in and put straight into management positions without understanding what it was like on the shop floor. The hierarchy in the supermarket reminded her a little of the House of Commons; those at the top had no real clue how to do the jobs that kept the company going, and those that did were paid the national minimum wage. Listening to Nolan, she thought him brave and carefree. His way of life sounded fun. But Bea wasn’t that brave. She liked a plan and a routine and that’s what this two-week holiday was about, planning the rest of her life.

  Taking a few steps forward, Bea noticed an easel with fresh paint on a palette. She took in the newly painted picture on the canvas. ‘Wow! That’s the view from the boat. It’s magnificent.’ The watercolour captured the steely blue river and the bridge with Heartcross Castle towering in the distance. There were kayaks bobbing on the water with gulls swooping in front of the white-washed cliffs.

  ‘It’s a magnificent view to paint.’

  ‘You painted this?’

  ‘I did.’ Nolan pointed to numerous paintings stacked up against the wall. ‘That’s what I do, I paint pictures and sell them in the bays I visit; make some pocket money, and sail on. When I finally finish my adventures, my dream is to moor The Hemingway and turn it into a floating art gallery, maybe even teach some classes.’

  Bea was in awe. ‘You’re super talented. These are just amazing. Both the villagers and tourists would snap these up.’ She glanced through the paintings. ‘I love this one.’ It was a painting of the shingle bay with the kayaks lined up, the jetty and The Little Blue Boathouse. The detail was unbelievable. ‘I would love to buy this one from you.’ This painting was everything the next two weeks of her life represented.

  ‘Have it as a present,’ he said with a warm smile.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly. I’ve only just met you.’

  ‘That’s true, but knowing you like it and it’s going to a good home is more than enough payment for me.’

  Bea didn’t chip in that actually she had no clue where her home was anymore. She knew that as soon as she did, she would hang the painting in pride of place.

  Nolan picked up the painting and turned it over. Reaching for an old-fashioned ink pen, which was lying on a nearby desk, he dipped it in an ink bottle then wrote an inscription on the back of the painting.

  For Bea

  She’s free to do want she wants,

  Nolan x

  ‘I suggest you don’t try and take it back in the kayak. Let me know where I can drop it for you.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll treasure it, I promise.’

  ‘I’m in no doubt.’ He smiled warmly.

  Bea looked down at the final painting in the pile. ‘And who are they? They look like royalty.’

  ‘My grandfather’s Heartcross Princess, and that is my grandfather. He was an artist too.’

  Bea couldn’t take her eyes off the woman in the painting. ‘She’s such a natural beauty ... and look at their faces, they look so in love. What’s her name?’

  ‘Patsy, and according to the stories of my grandfather, they were exactly that, in love.’

  ‘And do we know what happened to her?’ asked Bea, interested in their love story.

  Nolan shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, I’m not quite sure of all the details. But remembering the story he told me when I was a little boy, I think my grandfather was here for the summer. Years later, he told me he’d come back looking for Patsy, but I’m not sure what happened.’ He picked up the painting. ‘Maybe, whilst I’m here, I could ask some questions. There must be some villagers who are still around from that time, though I only have her first name to go by.’

  ‘There has got to be someone who knows something.’

  ‘Before my grandfather passed away, he was very weak. My hands were cupped around his and he murmured “Patsy” and “Heartcross”.’ Nolan’s voice faltered. ‘Whoever this woman is, she was on his mind before he passed away.’

  ‘That’s beautiful but a little sad too. Did you have a grandmother?’

  ‘My grandmother upped and left a long time ago and my mum was a single parent who passed away over ten years ago, leaving just me and grandfather. I always wondered what it would be like to be a part of a big family.’

  ‘I have a sister. She’s married and I have a niece and nephew. Sometimes she can be a little bossy – offering her opinion an awful lot and being overbearing – and she thinks I’m mad for coming away on my own.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But of course, I love her.’

  ‘Sometimes, we need space from what we know and from the norm. And no one is mad who comes to this place. I mean, just look at that view. The whitewashed cliffs, the bridge, the castle, the mountain…’

  They both looked towards the bridge.

  ‘When my grandfather told me stories about this place, he spoke with such happiness – and the second I sailed in, I could see why. It will be difficult to leave.’

  ‘How long are you staying for?

  ‘Just until the River Festival and then I’ll head wherever the logbook takes me next. But before that happens, if I could find Patsy and tell her how much my grandfather thought about her, wouldn’t that be fantastic?’

  ‘It would. There must be something really special about this woman for him to still remember her years later.’

  ‘I believe so.’ Nolan looked at the painting and for a second Bea thought he was going to say something else, but he changed his mind and they stepped into the small kitchen area, which was fully equipped and had large windows with a view of the craggy white cliffs.

  ‘Waking up and making a brew to that view must be … just wow!’

  ‘It’s something else, isn’t it?’ Nolan pointed. ‘Through there is the bathroom and then the bedroom.’

  Curious to see what the bedroom looked like, Bea took a quick peep. The room was small, the double bed filling the space almost wall to wall. There was also a small bedside cabinet with a lamp, and a line of built-in wardrobes.

  ‘Small but very cosy,’ said Nolan. ‘I spend most of the time out on deck, painting.’ They walked back out into the sunshine and sat down on the chairs.

  ‘I couldn’t imagine ever living on a boat but after seeing what it has to offer, I can see the appeal. It’s like something out of a romance novel, tranquil and peaceful.’

  ‘I absolutely love it. Waking up to the sound of water, the gulls flying high ... and there’s something cleansing about the fresh air. Rain or shine I sit out with a cuppa first thing in the morning and live for the moment. Then I spend my day fishing, or there’s water sports, or walking through scenery that would never have crossed my path otherwise.’

  ‘You’re living the dream.’

  ‘I am on a day like today, but it can be a different story in winter and it’s no fun if it’s lashing down.’

  ‘Do you get lonely?’ asked Bea.

  ‘I’m completely happy in my own skin, love my own company and my painting. And every time I sail into a new bay there’s a whole village of fabulous folk to chat to.’

  ‘But don’t you want to put down roots and find a permanent base for your life? I can see the attraction of this for a short-term holiday but to do this for ever…’

  ‘I’m all about taking chances, living life to the max. What would you choose – constant shifts in a supermarket or waking up with a view to kill and scenery to paint?’

  ‘When you put it like that,’ answered Bea, still thinking she would never be brave enough to take the plunge into a constant unknown.

  ‘And what do you do for a job?’ asked Nolan, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back in the chair.

  Bea laughed. ‘I work night shifts in a supermarket.’ She watched as Nolan swallowed hard, then brought his hand up to his mouth.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘And how do you find it?’

  Bea exhaled. ‘Mundane, rarely challenging, the same old, same old, but I know when I get paid and how much goes into my bank account.’

  ‘But does it make you happy?’

  Bea considered the question carefully. ‘Do you know, this is going to sound a little sad when I say it, but I’m not exactly sure what happiness is.’

  Nolan sat up in his chair and rested his arms on his knees. ‘It doesn’t sound sad at all. It might be you’ve lost your way.’

  ‘I was thinking about this earlier. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper belly laugh or thought, “That was a damn good day,” and I can’t remember the last time I had anything to look forward to.’

  ‘We can’t have that. Laughter is a must. Life is so much better when you have a smile on your face and there’s nothing better than that ache in your stomach when you’ve laughed hard. What are you doing tomorrow?’

  Bea raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘What are you suggesting?’ she asked in anticipation.

  ‘That Bea…’ He waved his hand around in a circle of enquiry.

  ‘Fernsby,’ she said, filling in the blank.

  ‘That Bea Fernsby, who is free to do what she wants, spends the afternoon with me and there’s one thing on the agenda.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Laughter!’ Nolan reached out to hold her hand. The second his fingers brushed against hers, there was that quiver through her whole body again.

  ‘Deal,’ she replied, with a wide grin on her face before sitting back in her chair.

  ‘And what is Bea’s ambition in life?’

  Thinking about Nolan’s question, Bea’s heart sank. She had no idea. Life had become comfortingly familiar, surrounded by what she knew, but now a tiny niggle was beginning to fester inside her. Why had she settled for the life she had? The whole world was full of opportunities and she was beginning to recognise that everything in her life since becoming Carl’s partner had revolved around what he wanted and he thought she should do. His ways, combined with her parents’ traditional views, had stifled her own aspirations. Carl George had indeed done her a favour by cheating on her again. It was the kick up the backside she needed. It was about time she made her own way in the world.

  ‘I actually don’t know what to say,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve no clue what my ambitions are. I always thought I’d be married in the next couple of years and have children and that’s exactly what my parents wanted for me too.’

  ‘That’s a good ambition to have – but make time for you. You can always be a wife and a mother but do something for you, that makes you happy.’

  Bea listened to Nolan’s words carefully. He had a point.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You have to follow your heart,’ encouraged Nolan. ‘That’s half the fun of being free to do what you want.’

  Bea laughed.

  ‘You have a beautiful laugh, and there should be more of that in the world.’ Nolan’s smile was warm, his eyes fixed on her.

  ‘Thank you.’ Sitting next to him, Bea felt strangely relaxed. Maybe this was her time to shine, to find a purpose in life.

  ‘I’ve always been a realist,’ she admitted. ‘I work to pay my bills and if I can afford a night out that’s a bonus, but for these next two weeks I’m going to have a think about what I want to do with my life. Maybe Mystic Martha will give me some insight in the morning.’

  ‘Who is Mystic Martha?’ Nolan raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Mystic Martha is known for the best psychic readings in the Scottish Highlands. She’s based up at Foxglove Farm and it’s only a fiver for a reading.’

  Nolan laughed. ‘For a fiver she is going to tell you all about your future?’

  ‘Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

  Nolan held his hands up. ‘If you want to waste your money, who am I to argue.’

  ‘Why don’t you come with me?’

  ‘I’ll leave that one to you and look forward to hearing all about it tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I may have the whole of my future mapped out by the time I see you next.’ Bea swigged the last of her beer and stood up. ‘I best get this kayak back but I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it too. I’ll have my best joke book ready.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m just naturally funny.’

  Bea shook her head in jest, thanked Nolan for the beer, squeezed her feet back into her trainers and reached for her life jacket and helmet.

  ‘Here, let me help you on with it,’ offered Nolan, holding out the life jacket so Bea could slip her arms into it. She turned to face him, her heart pounding. Nolan leaned in extra close and with a short tug zipped up the life vest, then grabbed the buckles and pulled the first one tight. Bea inhaled. She noticed a small scar just above his right eyebrow and that, when he was concentrating, he bit his lip lightly, which she found incredibly sexy. He was standing so close that she tried to avert her gaze but was unsuccessful. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. The scent of his aftershave wasn’t helping in the slightest, either, but was again stirring up feelings inside her. ‘There you go. All done. And you best let me know where you’re staying so I can drop your painting off.’

  ‘I think you’ll have no problem in finding me.’ She gave him a mischievous smile. ‘What time shall I meet you tomorrow?’

  ‘Say 1pm? End of the jetty?’

  ‘It’s a date!’ she replied. Nolan cocked an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t mean a date date. I just meant a date,’ she quickly added, noting her enthusiasm was a little over the top.

  ‘I know exactly what you meant.’ He grinned. ‘Bring a swimsuit and a towel. I’ll take care of the rest. Tomorrow the weather forecast is glorious – though with a chance of a summer shower in the early evening – so hopefully the water will be calm.’

  Bea climbed carefully back down the ladder and gratefully manoeuvred herself back into the kayak without rocking the boat. She unhooked the rope and Nolan passed her the paddle.