‘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.’
Nolan noticed that Martha’s voice had softened and her hands were shaking slightly. He watched her closely.
‘Thank you,’ he replied.
‘He was a good man, a kind man, a generous man and a handsome man.’ This time she glanced in Nolan’s direction.
‘He was all of those things.’
‘I see you have had other sadness in your life and I commend you. You have taken time out for you. You’re working on being happy within yourself and living your life as you want to instead of how society expects you to. It takes some guts not to have a permanent place to call home.’
‘I do have a permanent place to call home.’
‘You do,’ replied Martha, this time with a smile. ‘It just keeps moving about.’
‘The Hemingway.’
She nodded. ‘You’re at your happiest when you’re on the boat. It’s going to be your lifeline. You have the ability to make money and you will be a success in what you want to do.’ Martha’s hands kept moving. ‘But you’re swathed with guilt.’ Martha gave him a sideward glance. ‘Hannah would have wanted you to get on with your life. She wants you to be happy.’
Nolan’s mouth dropped open. ‘How do you know Hannah’s name?’
‘It’s in here. Everything is in here. Be true to who you are and there’s no need to feel guilty.’
Nolan knew that since he’d set eyes on Bea, he’d felt guilty. When he was married to Hannah, he could never have imagined himself with anyone else. He’d thought they’d grow old together and have a wonderful life. He had never expected things to change as they did. But as the saying goes, time heals all things, and there was something about Bea that gave him that good feeling again, one he hadn’t felt in a long time. She was humorous, kind, beautiful and he’d found himself thinking about her even when he wasn’t with her. But even though he knew he had feelings for her, he was struggling. Of course Hannah would want him to get on with his life but he didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He’d never experienced heartache like he had when Hannah passed away, and even though something as tragic was unlikely to happen to him again, the only way he could be sure of that was to not get too close to anyone again.
‘You deserve happiness,’ added Martha.
Nolan swallowed a lump in his throat. He could feel himself tearing up, the emotion still raw, but he managed to compose himself. Bea had relit a tiny flame inside him but it terrified him to think of letting that flame flare up into a full fire.
Martha stopped moving her hands and stared into the ball. She was silent for a second. ‘Your family is going to help you make the decision about what is next for you.’ She sat back in her chair and lifted the veil from her head.
‘I haven’t got any family,’ replied Nolan. ‘It’s just me now.’
Martha stood up and gestured for Nolan to do the same. ‘Your grandfather would be very proud of you.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied, taking another glance towards the painting of Castaway Bay on the wall. He wanted to take a closer look. He knew that his grandfather always signed the back of his paintings. He took the plunge. ‘Martha, can I ask you, do you know of anyone called Patsy that lives – or lived – around here?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I would like to talk to her about my grandfather. I know she was based in Glensheil and worked at The Little Blue Boathouse.’
