Elspeth Kinnaird sighed in irritation as she stared at the computer screen and the picturesque image of rolling green Highlands hills that had interrupted her Facebook newsfeed. Normally Elle wouldn’t give the ad a second glance, but that was before she’d started to notice the unsettlingly repetitive signs. No, not signs, she told herself firmly. Coincidences. That’s all they were.

Ever since her gran’s funeral two weeks ago, everywhere she turned, Scotland kept appearing before her eyes.

Elle knew it wasn’t really a sign. She’d just been thinking about Scotland so much lately. A similar thing happened when she updated to the new iPhone—she hadn’t seen anyone with one, and then suddenly every second person in town seemed to be carrying her model. This was the same kind of thing. She was just noticing the Scottish references more now because of Gran.

Her heart sank a little at the thought.

Gran.

‘I miss you so much,’ she said quietly.

She had only been gone a few weeks, and already it felt longer. Elle closed the laptop and stood up, grabbing her keys and handbag before heading out the door to work.

Jessup’s Creek had been her home her entire life. Population three thousand two hundred and fifty-three. Tucked away in the New South Wales hinterland, their sleepy little town had been bypassed by the tourist trade and highways for most of its life, which had never been a problem for a tightknit farming community. Not until the past few generations, when working farms began to dwindle as kids moved away to start their careers, and parents running properties got too old and tired to continue working them.

Then, a miracle of sorts happened. Over the past two years, the grey-nomad trade had come to the rescue, saving Jessup’s Creek from becoming another dying country town with more closed shops than residents. The retirees and their caravans, motorhomes and campervans were an almost constant stream driving through. More shops had opened, filling the main street with all kinds of quirky businesses, drawing not only the travellers but weekend tourists from the coast and inland as well.

There was a chocolatier, two antique stores and a pottery- and-craft barn, which sold local handmade items and ran workshops, where Elle had taken a few art classes. Cafes were springing up left, right and centre, and only a month ago a boutique brewery had opened its doors, bringing quite a few beard-sporting, man-bun-wearing men to town on weekend beer-tasting sessions.