Elle poured a glass of chardonnay as she stood at the kitchen bench after her bath, her head wrapped in a towel and wearing her faded old dressing gown. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the oven door and gave a snort. All that was missing was a pair of fluffy slippers and she would be the cartoon image of an old spinster stuck at home alone. She could have stayed at the pub longer but she really wasn’t up to smiling and accepting any more condolences—well-meaning though they may be. She knew she couldn’t mourn forever, but for now she just didn’t feel like making small talk out in public and pretending her life was fine. It wasn’t fine, at least not at the moment. She was soon to be unemployed. She took another sip of wine, realised her glass was empty and gave a small tsk of annoyance as she went to the fridge and took out the bottle. She poured the straw-coloured wine to an acceptable level, before realising she was home alone and didn’t need to be acceptable, then kept going until it reached the very top of the glass. Trying not to giggle, she bent down and slurped a sip so it didn’t spill when she picked it up. See? It was all in my head before—if Gran really had been here, I’d have heard her grumbling about slurping like a sailor on shore leave in a tavern. She gave a small dismissive snort—again, something that would have earned her a word or two from Gran, and quickly tossed down that glass too. So what if she didn’t have a job? Jobs were overrated anyway. She would be fine. She picked up the bottle of wine and carried it back to her bedroom.

Later, as she lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, she succumbed to the lightness of the wine she’d just finished, floating her into the welcoming arms of sleep. She imagined she felt the comforting weight of a hand on her forehead, brushing back her hair, just like Gran used to do when she was little.

‘Tell me the story, Gran,’ she whispered, her eyes weighed down by sleep. It was her favourite and it had been such a long time since she’d heard it.

The soft rolling tones of her gran’s brogue softly filled her ears. Once upon a time, in the Highlands of Scotland, a young girl fell in love with a boy. Their deaths would end a war and reunite their clans, but their love would transcend time.