As she began to manoeuvre her way back towards the riverbank, Bea knew she had a huge smile on her face. Grabbing two weeks away from everything she knew was going to do her the world of good. Carl was already becoming a distant memory. She felt excitement zipping through her veins. The water might be calm, but right now there was nothing calm about the way her heart was beating.

  Within ten minutes she was wading through the shallow water in front of The Little Blue Boathouse and pulling the kayak back onto the shingle. She dared to look over towards The Hemingway and glimpsed Nolan sitting back at his easel. He had such a happy-go-lucky lifestyle and wasn’t bound by mundane routines. He was certainly living his best life, doing whatever he wanted each day. Bea envied that and couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, when Bea woke from her slumber, she took a moment to remember where she was before rolling over and checking the time on her phone. She couldn’t quite believe that it was past 10am and she’d managed to miss breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the thought and even though she was ravenous, she couldn’t help but feel happy. This was the first time for as long as she could remember that she’d slept over twelve hours. Her shift pattern of working nights at the supermarket had played havoc with her sleeping routine, as she’d always found it difficult to sleep in the day. Last night her head hit the pillow just before 10pm and the last thought on her mind was Nolan … and even just a couple of seconds after waking up, he’d already crossed her mind. With a big smile on her face, Bea pushed back the covers and swung her legs to the floor. After making a cup of tea she pulled back the drapes in a corner of the room and to her surprise discovered a tiny balcony with a couple of wrought iron chairs and a table. The perfect setting to start the day.

  Bea twisted the key that was in the lock of the balcony door. It clicked open and she stepped out into the sunshine. Tilting her face towards the sun, she could already tell it was going to be another warm day. All she could think about was what Nolan might have in store for her this afternoon. Just thinking about the time they were going to spend together activated a tiny flutter in her heart.

  Surprised to hear a knock on the door, Bea hurried to answer it. Standing on the other side was Julia, holding out a tray.

  ‘You missed breakfast and I knew you hadn’t gone out so I just assumed you must have had the best sleep ever, as the mountain air tends to knock everyone out for the count,’ said Julia, with a smile.

  Bea couldn’t argue with that; she felt refreshed and hungry. ‘You’re a superstar. I’ve only just woken up and this is fully welcome. Thanks so much for thinking of me!’ enthused Bea.

  ‘You’re very welcome.’ Julia handed over the tray. ‘Any plans for today?’

  ‘This morning, I’m going to take the plunge and be brave – I’m going to visit Mystic Martha for a reading. And this afternoon I’m in for a treat but I’m not sure what it is just yet,’ replied Bea, not giving any more away.

  ‘That sounds intriguing!’ Julia tilted her head, encouraging Bea to say more, but she swiftly changed the subject.

  ‘I met Wilbur yesterday, such a character. I hope you don’t think I’m jumping the gun but I took a sneaky look at the attic room.’

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘It’s adorable, and that view!’

  ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Throughout the years, in fact I’d say at least … sixty years ago, the very first member of staff took the room for the summer – the perfect room for the perfect summer job. Now, eat that breakfast before it goes cold and we can catch up later.’

  ‘Thank you again for this.’

  After the door was closed, Bea made her way back out to the balcony. Lifting up the silver cloche she found a full Scottish breakfast accompanied by buttery granary toast. This would definitely keep her going until this afternoon. Then a sudden thought crossed her mind: should she eat lunch before she met Nolan or would they grab something whilst they were out? Whichever way, she was looking forward to her afternoon of laughter.

  An hour later, and with a full stomach, Bea was walking towards Love Heart Lane. Hearing a rustle in the hedgerow, she giggled as a comical-looking alpaca stuck its head through a hole in the hedge; she was convinced it was smiling at her. Looking down at the card Martha had given her she remembered she needed to locate a vintage caravan which was located at Foxglove Farm. Spotting the long driveway, she ambled down it. A magnificent farmhouse stood at the bottom and there were cows dotted in the fields, alpacas and sheep grazing on the lush green grass, and a huge line of milking sheds. There were three signposts telling Bea that up ahead was the farm shop, to the left was Foxglove Camping, and to the right a caravan set aside from the rest… Mystic Martha.

  If someone had even suggested to Bea at the start of the month that she would be taking a break in the Scottish Highlands and be about to pay to have her fortune told, then she would have thought they were bonkers. Even though she was intrigued by fortune tellers it wasn’t something she’d ever believed in – so what exactly was she doing here? She stopped walking. This was daft. No one could predict your future because that was in your own hands, based on the decisions you made. Turning around, Bea was wondering whether her reluctance to step into the caravan was because she was worried Martha might tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

  ‘Curiosity got the better of you, didn’t it?’

  Bea stopped in her tracks. She’d been spotted.

  ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ Martha added.

  There was no escaping now. Bea turned around again. The beaded curtain was parted and Martha was standing in the doorway of the caravan. She stepped aside and beckoned Bea towards her. Suddenly nervous, Bea slowly headed towards the vintage van, which looked picture perfect with its terracotta pots of cherry-red geraniums either side of the doorway happily lapping up the sunshine. There was a small paved area with a painted cream rocking chair and a table littered with magazines and a small bowl housing coins and notes.

  ‘Put your money in there.’ Martha nodded towards the table before disappearing inside.

  After rummaging in her purse and throwing five pounds into the bowl, Bea stepped inside the caravan and was amazed to see it was all things vintage, with floral triangular bunting draping the corners, and a beautiful teapot and china cups stacked on top of a small cabinet. She admired one of the paintings on the wall of a secluded sandy bay.

  ‘Is that a real place?’ asked Bea, thinking how beautiful and dreamy it looked.

  Martha stood by Bea’s side and looked at the painting. ‘It is,’ she replied, her gaze transfixed on the painting.

  ‘It looks a special place,’ added Bea, still admiring the canvas.

  Martha didn’t reply but Bea thought she noticed a faraway look in Martha’s eyes as she gestured for Bea to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  ‘This is a gorgeous van. Very light and colourful.’ Bea didn’t know why she’d been expecting the place to be dark and dreary – it was the complete opposite.

  ‘It is, isn’t it? My grand-daughter and her husband own the farm and a few years ago discovered the vintage vans in the barn and turned one of the fields into a camping area. I thought this one was perfect for giving readings.’

  ‘That would be Isla. I met her at the B&B yesterday. The farm has such stunning scenery, it must feel like paradise waking up to the views of the mountain each morning. Such beautiful surroundings.’

  ‘I’m not sure you could call this place paradise as it always stinks of cow manure, but I suppose you get used to it after a time.’ Martha gave a chuckle. ‘But there is nothing better than a brisk walk up the mountain pass or along the river.’

  Bea was just about to share that she had a trial at The Little Blue Boathouse tomorrow but something stopped her. She wondered whether Martha would know anything about that when she made her predictions.

  ‘Now, relax and breathe. I can sense you’re very tense.’

  ‘I’ve never had my future told before,’ admitted Bea, unable to hide the worry in her voice.

  Martha didn’t answer. With her eyes cast down she lowered her veil over her face and hunched herself over the crystal ball, running her hands over it. They were wrapped in the same gloves as yesterday, her wrists laced with bangles and her bony fingers stacked with rings.

  ‘Just remember your future is never set in stone.’ Martha’s voice was low and eerie. ‘You’re in charge of your own destiny.’

  Bea began to wonder: if that was the case, what exactly was she paying the fiver for? But then her mind flicked back to yesterday. There were certain things Martha had said about her ex which there was no way she could have known. Now gripped by anticipation, Bea didn’t take her eyes off Martha. Still running her hands over the ball, Martha remained focused on the object in front of her as she started to speak.

  ‘You, my dear, have been taken advantage of for many years.’ Martha briefly looked up and gave her a sympathetic look. ‘And you deserve so much better, but I can see you’re now starting to recognise your own worth. Honesty and loyalty are important to you and with yet another betrayal under his belt he was never going to be marriage material.’

  Bea knew exactly who she was talking about. Even from the early stages, Carl had manipulated their relationship, but it was only now that she could see that.

  ‘He used his father’s death to say he wanted to spend more time on his own and that he was grieving. I gave him that space and he used the opportunity to strike up a relationship with Nicola,’ Bea blurted, unable to hold back.

  Martha was nodding but still focused on the crystal ball. ‘Things are changing for you. Happier times on the horizon,’ she continued.

  This was more like it and was exactly what Bea wanted to hear.

  ‘There’s a whole world out there but you have already stumbled across your forever home.’

  Bea arched an eyebrow and her heart began to beat a little faster. What did Martha mean by that? Did she mean Heartcross or back home? Bea was unsure whether she was allowed to ask questions and took the plunge.

  ‘And where is my forever home?’

  Dismissing Bea’s question, Martha waved her hand and continued. ‘You have to take a chance, believe in yourself and don’t settle for anything less than you deserve.’

  Bea’s mind turned towards Nolan for a moment.

  Martha’s eyes drifted in and out of focus. ‘You’re going on a hell of a journey and life will not be smooth sailing.’ She quickly caught Bea’s eye. ‘I see water. Danger.’ She looked back into the ball. ‘And you’re going to champion life like you’ve never done before. A meeting will change the direction of your path and a job is going to unravel a mystery.’

  Bea wasn’t sure whether Martha meant a meeting with someone, or a work meeting. And what job was going to unravel a mystery? Did she mean the job at The Little Blue Boathouse?

  ‘You’re going to be faced with a life-changing dilemma.’

  ‘Life-changing?’ probed Bea, wanting to know more.

  Martha briefly looked up but didn’t answer Bea’s question. ‘A boat … a different type of boat.’ Martha was running her hands faster and faster over the crystal ball. Bea couldn’t take her eyes off her. She was mesmerising.

  Not knowing what had come over her Bea suddenly blurted, ‘Maybe that’s The Hemingway,’ then instantly regretted giving information away.

  Martha stopped dead in her tracks. Her hands hovered over the top of the ball and then she pushed it away. Lifting up her veil, Martha’s eyes locked on Bea’s. She was staring at Bea in a way that slightly unnerved her. Her eyes didn’t leave Bea’s. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘The Hemingway,’ Bea repeated slowly, noticing Martha’s aura had completely changed. ‘It’s a boat on the river.’

  ‘The River Heart?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Bea.

  ‘Your reading has come to an end,’ announced Martha, taking Bea by surprise. She stood up, walked towards the door and held the beaded curtain wide open. It was very clearly Bea’s cue to leave.

  Surprised the reading had come to such an abrupt end, Bea walked towards the door. Not knowing what else to say, she said, ‘Thank you very much.’

  Martha nodded. ‘And good luck at The Little Blue Boathouse. You’ll pass your trial with flying colours,’ she added before turning on her heels, the beaded fringe curtain swishing behind her.

  Trying to make sense of what had just happened, Bea felt a little bewildered as she headed towards the long driveway. She suddenly realised that she had never mentioned anything about her trial. Going over the reading in her mind, Bea was convinced that something had spooked Martha. But what exactly was it? Bea hoped she was merely overreacting but there was no denying the anxious feeling swirling around in the pit of her stomach.

  Chapter Five

  Nolan had woken at the crack of dawn to the sound of the gulls circulating above The Hemingway. It was the best sleep he’d had in a long time, which was quite surprising since it was the time of year when he was normally consumed with guilt. He couldn’t quite believe another year had passed by and things still hadn’t got any easier.

  Sitting out on the deck with a mug of coffee in his hand was his favourite part of the day. The waters were calm and there wasn’t a soul in sight except for a man walking along the riverbank with the shaggiest dog Nolan had ever seen.

  From the small table next to him, he picked up his grandfather’s logbook, the reason he’d sailed The Hemingway into Heartcross. Looking at the date, he saw it was the very day he’d taken Patsy to Castaway Bay all those years ago. Just after arriving in Heartcross, Nolan had followed his grandfather’s hand-drawn map and discovered the secret bay further downstream for himself. It was stunning, and the beauty of it all had taken his breath away. He spent the afternoon there, sketching the scenery, and could see why his grandfather had spoken about the place with such passion.

  Knowing The Hemingway had always been his grandfather’s pride and joy, Nolan was also feeling the same and quickly becoming very attached to the boat. In a way, it had saved his life. Renovating The Hemingway had given him the perfect distraction to keep himself to himself. Just the thought of the past few years could bring him close to tears, and he wished his grandfather was still around to help him navigate the most difficult time of his life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that he had no other family to lean on in the world, a thought that made him feel extremely lonely.

  His thoughts turned to Bea and the glorious day ahead that he had planned. Castaway Bay would be the perfect place to swim and paint for a few hours. He smiled, thinking about her whizzing around with her arms in the air, screaming she was free. Despite the fact that he’d only been in her company for a matter of minutes so far, there was something about her that intrigued him. She was naturally beautiful, her smile infectious, and she’d put him immediately at ease. That was something that had never happened in the last few years ... He’d surprised himself by inviting her out today. The invitation had tripped off his tongue quite naturally, even though it wasn’t something he would normally do. In fact, he usually shied away from making new friends – but he’d been drawn to her and wanted to know all about her.

  Today’s plan was simple: this morning he was going to sail The Hemingway to Castaway Bay, set up the picnic and easel, then row Bea over to spend the afternoon soaking up the sunshine. He often felt his grandfather was watching over him and today he hoped there was some sort of sign at the secret bay that would make him feel closer to him.

  After closing the logbook, he reached across and picked up the painting of his grandfather and Patsy. ‘And where are you, Patsy? Who are you?’ he murmured. Bea was right; the look in their eyes radiated the love between them and suddenly Nolan felt a stab of guilt again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and raked his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t deserve love’: Nolan had convinced himself of that over the last few years and even after all this time he knew he was still struggling to come to terms with the past.

  Standing up, he carefully placed the painting down on the table. Risking a tentative look in the mirror, he saw his hair was wild, and as he attempted to tame his unruly mop with his hand, he played out a strategy suggested by his therapist. He looked straight in the mirror. ‘You do deserve to be happy. It wasn’t your fault.’ He locked eyes with himself but he knew he still wasn’t quite believing it.

  Chapter Six

  Having no clue what Nolan had in store for her this afternoon, Bea packed her rucksack with sun cream, a change of shorts, T-shirt and a towel. Then, feeling suitably embarrassed, she looked down at the two swimsuits that she’d stuffed in her luggage when she’d fled from Staffordshire. One was threadbare and one sported a print of a unicorn, which for some reason that Bea couldn’t remember she’d thought was a good idea to buy – at the time. There was only one thing for it. Eeny meeny miny moe… Bea pointed from one to the other, ended up on the unicorn and sighed. Neither of them oozed sexy, and she was beginning to wish she’d updated her summer wardrobe a little sooner. After checking her watch, she saw that if she wandered down to the river now there was still an hour to kill. Maybe the best thing was to ask Julia where she could purchase swimwear – and quickly.

  Hurrying down the stairs to reception clutching the unicorn bathing suit, she waited until Julia had hung up her call. Julia beamed. ‘How are you?’

  Bea grimaced, holding up the swimsuit in front of her body. ‘All good, but I need your help.’

  ‘Ooo, I think that may have lost its sparkle,’ teased Julia, giving a little chuckle.

  ‘I agree! What I need to know is where can I buy a new swimsuit within the hour?’