Elle felt her breath catch at the memory. Gran had made her promise to take her ashes back to Scotland. But not to just any place in Scotland—back to a place Gran had been told about as a child. It had been the last time Gran had spoken; only a little while after that she’d had another stroke and fallen into a coma and never woken up. Tears once more pricked Elle’s eyes and she wiped at them quickly before they could fall.

Oh sweetheart, none of that now. That time’s past. I don’t want you sitting about feeling sorry for yourself anymore. I had the best life anyone could possibly ask for. It’s time to move on, she said gently but with a briskness that was oh-so-familiar. And you can start by booking that trip to Scotland.

‘I can’t go to Scotland.’

Why not?

‘I just lost my job.’

That makes everything easier. Now you can’t use the excuse of having no holiday time accrued, her gran said triumphantly.

‘How am I supposed to go on a holiday when I don’t have a job to come back to? I’ll need my savings to live on until I get another one.’

Have a biscuit, Gran instructed, and Elle, too confused to bother questioning it, reached out and took one, biting into it and savouring the crunchy texture before it melted on her tongue.

Don’t you worry about a thing. It will all be explained tomorrow. You just promise me you’ll book that flight.

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ Elle asked warily, but her gran didn’t reply. ‘Gran?’ There was no response. She sat back in her chair and stared at the biscuits pensively, wondering how you actually knew you were crazy. She took another biscuit and ate it, in case they vanished into thin air or she woke up and realised she’d been dreaming. She wasn’t going to give up the opportunity to savour Gran’s cooking, no matter how far-fetched the idea was. She just hoped the calories were also a figment of her imagination as she ate the rest of the plate in quick succession. She was too tired to try to figure out what was happening right now—she needed a hot bath, a glass of wine and sleep.