She smiled, as she always did, at the rowan tree that had pride of place near the front gate. When she was little, Gran had told her it was there to ward off any bad spirits and to protect them. It was covered in bright red berries in autumn, and Elle had many fond memories of making fairy rings with her gran, and having picnics with her dolls beneath its shady foliage as a child.

Gran’s life had been steeped in Scottish traditions and beliefs. She was always a bit … well, odd. She spoke of certain relatives as though they were still around—so much so that

Elle wasn’t altogether sure that they weren’t and often had to look around and make sure there was no one there. Gran would just smile and say, ‘My great-aunt Morag was saying …’ It became the family in-joke, whenever a door might slam or squeak, that it was ‘only Aunt Morag, the friendly ghost’. Elle had always assumed Gran liked to keep talking to the people she’d loved and missed. It was just a quirky thing she did.

Elle unlocked the front door and dropped her handbag on the table, heading for the kettle to make herself a cup of tea. For a moment Elle closed her eyes, bracing her arms on the edge of the sink. It had been a long, horrible day, and she had no idea what she was going to do.

The familiar smell of the house wrapped around her like a warm hug. There had been no drama too big, no problem too complicated, and no hurt too deep that it couldn’t be soothed by walking into this house and sharing it with Gran.

Elle’s parents had suggested she move home—that staying in Gran’s empty old house probably wasn’t good for her—but she was reluctant to leave. While she had the house, she still felt as though Gran were around. The mix of smells swarmed her senses: old house, lavender, lemon and biscuits. Elle stopped and blinked uncertainly … Biscuits?

THREE

Three

Elle spun around and stared at the plate of biscuits on the table. Biscuits that hadn’t been there this morning. Biscuits she hadn’t had for a long time … the kind Gran used to make.

Darling, sit and have a biscuit. Everything will be fine.

Elle shrank back against the kitchen bench and scanned the room. ‘This is crazy,’ she whispered, looking around the empty kitchen.

What’s crazy is that you still haven’t booked our trip yet. You promised me you would.

Elle’s heart raced as she searched for an explanation. It was clear she was losing her mind, but why now? Maybe it was the shock of being sacked. She’d never been sacked before.