‘You have got to be kidding me,’ she muttered and rolled her eyes. ‘Was this your doing?’

I swear I had nothing to do with it.

‘Uh-huh,’ Elle said, unconvinced, as she drove on.

After purchasing a new pair of hiking boots, which technically didn’t count as breaking the no-more-boots resolution she’d made with herself after losing her job—Stuart was apparently an authority on these things and said she needed them—Elle spent the rest of the day exploring more of the area.

She came across an outdoor museum—a small village, preserved, to show the traditional way of life for crofters in the past with old-fashioned thatched cottages. Again, she marvelled at the endurance people from earlier days must have had in order to survive, not only all the violence and illness of the time, but also the harsh elements. As she stood outside one of the huts now, the savage winds coming off the ocean seemed to blow right through her. To find a way to live and work in these conditions, with so little, was impressive. Elle realised that this was how Gran’s father would have lived as a boy, and his family before him, and was impressed all over again.

‘I can’t even imagine, Gran. This is how our family would have once lived.’

Yes, I remember my father telling me about the croft he grew up in—just like this one.

‘Maybe I can find out if there’s anyone still around who remembers your dad’s family?’

I doubt it. There might be distant relatives, but my father’s line died out with him leaving.

‘I wonder why he stopped talking to his parents?’

I know you seem to think you’re here to solve all our family secrets, darling, but sometimes things happen in the past and no one remembers why.

‘I was just curious.’

‘Excuse me, dear, are you talking to me?’ a voice asked from behind her, and Elle turned abruptly to find the stocky woman who’d taken her entry payment earlier watching her oddly.

‘Oh. Sorry. No,’ Elle apologised, embarrassed at being caught talking to herself, and hurried away to escape the woman’s confused look.

Leaving the museum, she continued on, visiting some small art galleries and pottery studios along the way, before stopping to sit for a while on a headland that was too beautiful to drive past. She took out her sketchpad and spent a relaxing few hours drawing, more aware of landscapes that caught her eye since Grace commissioned her artwork. Maybe it was because, as a visitor, she knew the kinds of scenery she wanted to capture and take home, like a photo to remember her trip. Or maybe she was discovering she really did have a talent for landscapes, and her art might be something more than just a hobby.