‘That’s okay.’ The woman smiled. ‘It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. At first there were no regrets but would you believe after all this time I’m beginning to feel a little homesick? As we get older we start to think about our time left on this earth. It’s made me realise time is precious and I wish I could see my family more. Do you have family?’
‘Just a sister, and a bossy one at that.’
The woman laughed. She carried on looking at the paintings, stopping in front of the painting of Morgan and Patsy. She lifted her sunglasses off her face and scrutinised it. ‘Who is this?’ she asked.
‘That’s Nolan’s grandfather and his one great love,’ replied Bea.
‘Who is she?’ prompted the woman.
‘Unfortunately, all we know is that her name was Patsy.’
‘You have a similar necklace,’ observed the woman, placing the sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose.
‘It’s actually the very same necklace. We found it recently.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, where did you find it? It’s very beautiful.’
‘It was inside a message in a bottle.’
‘Really? That’s unbelievable.’
‘Yes, really. It’s such a romantic love story.’
‘Do tell me more.’
‘This boat, The Hemingway, sailed into Patsy’s life many moons ago and she and its captain fell in love and spent the summer together. That’s really all we know.’
‘And who painted this picture?’
‘Morgan Hemingway himself. He was an artist too.’
‘There’s no price on it,’ noticed the woman.
‘Unfortunately, it’s not for sale. It’s the only painting I’m not allowed to sell.’
The woman nodded her understanding.
Noticing there was another group of tourists walking towards the boat, Bea said, ‘If you need anything or wish to purchase anything else, please give me a shout. I’m Bea, by the way.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, not introducing herself.
Welcoming the tourists on board, Bea began chatting to them about their days and the excursion they’d just been on. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the woman had walked round and viewed all the other paintings and was now back in front of Morgan and Patsy. With her phone in her hand, she snapped a photo of the painting then left the boat and sat on the bench outside The Little Blue Boathouse.
It was fast approaching lunchtime and after selling one more painting Bea glanced over to see Nolan locking up and bounding towards The Hemingway like an excitable puppy.
‘Lunchtime! I’ve been prepared again! This morning I picked us up some lunch from The Old Bakehouse and that fantastic chocolate shop next door.’ Nolan didn’t stop for breath. ‘Look at you without crutches!’ he enthused, pointing to her ankle.
Bea didn’t react. She was looking over at the woman sitting on the bench. She’d taken off her headscarf.
Bea’s mouth dropped open.
‘What’s up with you. What are you staring at?’ Nolan narrowed his eyes.
‘Not what. Who.’ Bea pointed. The woman had now taken off her sunglasses and was looking up the river path.
Isla was walking towards her, holding the hands of both of her boys.
‘Who exactly are we looking at?’ asked Nolan, sounding a little confused.
