Portsoy, Elle knew from Gran’s stories, was located on the Moray Firth Coast of northeast Scotland, in Aberdeenshire. On the map it looked somewhat isolated, almost in a straight line north from Edinburgh, as far as you could go before you ran out of land.

‘I can’t believe we’ve never met any of Gran’s relatives after all this time.’

Her father shrugged. ‘Your gran and pa didn’t have a lot of money when they were first married. Flights weren’t as cheap as they are now.’

‘Do you think they’ll be okay with some stranger dropping in?’

‘They seemed excited.’

Elle wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being foisted onto complete strangers simply because they were related, but she was looking forward to meeting them, nonetheless. Pa’s family were close and she and her siblings had grown up knowing all their cousins, aunts and uncles from the Kinnaird side, but Gran had left her family behind in Scotland at fifteen years old, and seemingly never looked back.

‘Your father’s been in contact with a few of his cousins over the years,’ her mother reminded her.

‘But we’ve never actually met them,’ Elle pointed out.

‘Well, I’ve already told them you’ll be coming over, so make sure you give them a call once you’re there to let them know when you’ll be arriving.’

Gran was conspicuously quiet on the whole matter, which made Elle somewhat curious considering she sensed an unsettled kind of feeling surrounding her. But with so much to do before she left, Elle was too busy to ask about it now. She would sort out the prodigal-rellie visit later, once she got there. It would all be a moot point if she missed her flight because she hadn’t finished packing.

‘Damn it!’

Elle stood with her hands on her hips as she stared down at her suitcase on the bed. This was the third time she’d repacked it, taking more things out—and the stupid thing still wouldn’t close.

Sixteen days’ worth of winter clothes was turning out to be quite heavy. Whoever decided on the baggage weight limit had obviously never had to travel overseas in autumn, Elle decided.

Do you really need all those boots? Gran asked.

‘Yes. They’re all my favourites. I can’t go without my boots,’ Elle griped.

Then take out some of those jeans. How many pairs do you have in there?

‘Seven.’

Seven! Good grief, child. Who needs seven pairs of jeans?

‘They’re not all the same kind. There’s skinny jeans, those ones are a dark wash, I need a pair of good jeans for going out, and a couple that are stretchy for travelling … And anyway, I need some decent clothes if we’re going to meet the family.’ She paused, glad of the chance to bring up the topic. ‘Why were you so quiet when Dad was talking about them?’ she asked gently. ‘How do you feel about me visiting?’

I think it’s wonderful that you’ll get to meet them. From what I gather, Alice and Peter are very nice people.