* * *
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.
ChapterFour
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.
