‘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.
