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.

‘So, Alice is your sister’s daughter?’

One of them, yes. The youngest, I believe. She came around quite a long time after the others were born.

‘Why didn’t you ever talk much about your sister?’ Elle asked carefully, and waited through a few moments of silence before Gran replied.

I left Scotland when I was only a child. She was a lot older than me. We’ve been apart far longer than we were ever together.

It was so unlike the Gran she knew. The Gran who wouldn’t go more than a few days before checking in on her son and grandchildren, even when they all lived in the same town. It really didn’t make sense. Elle realised she had never given it more than a fleeting thought when Gran was alive. Too wrapped up in her own life, she supposed, to bother asking many questions about her grandmother’s life before she became Gran. It hit Elle then—she now had the second chance most people never got to ask all the things that had never occurred to her before.

‘So, why did your father decide to leave Scotland?’

I don’t think he really wanted to, but he had no choice, Gran said with the slightest hint of bitterness. Times had grown hard and my parents were forced to sell the farm. Then my mother died and my father struggled to find work. An opportunity to move to Australia came up and so he took it.

‘But why didn’t your siblings go too?’