She pushed open the large front door of the guesthouse and looked around the hallway, taking in the pretty chandelier hanging high above the winding wooden staircase. The stairs were covered in a deep maroon carpet leading to a first-floor landing with a white door. Elle put her suitcase down and breathed in a musty scent—not altogether unpleasant, but something she assumed these old buildings would all have in common.

‘Welcome!’

Elle jumped slightly as a tall, thin man swept into the hallway and clasped both her hands in a hearty handshake. ‘You must be Elspeth?’ he said, and she detected a slight Italian accent, which she hadn’t been expecting in Scotland. ‘My name is Enzo. Welcome to the Balmore. I see you’ve had a long flight, you look tired,’ he said sympathetically, peering into her face. ‘Let’s get you settled in your room,’ he added, barely pausing for breath as he took hold of her suitcase and headed for the staircase. ‘It’s a very steep climb. I’m used to this, you can see from my very athletic body,’ he said with a chuckle, and Elle was left staring dumbfoundedly after him. He had reached the first landing before she’d managed to make any sense of what was happening and hurried after him.

‘Breakfast is between seven-thirty and nine-thirty, and you just come down to the dining room whenever you’re ready,’ he was saying from up above her.

Elle’s legs were beginning to burn by the second floor. She looked up and saw the man still climbing, barely out of breath as he chattered on. She heard a key jiggle in a lock as she reached the third floor and held onto the bannister as she tried to catch her breath. Dear God. She had no idea how out of shape she was.

‘Okay, there you go. All set.’ He smiled at her brightly. ‘Anything you need, you just come down and find me, kay?’

She managed a quick nod and smile as he moved past her and disappeared down the stairs with a friendly wave. Elle shook off the daze she found herself in after the whirlwind check-in and stepped into the room.

The roof sloped down over the double bed, which Elle was tempted to collapse on after her exhausting travel experience. Instead she moved towards the window at the other end of the room and looked out over the small back garden at a sea of chimneys and brick buildings that spread out behind her townhouse.

She was here. Finally.

She placed her backpack on the wing-back chair beneath the window and carefully took out the box from inside, unwrapping it from its plastic-bag cover and sitting it on the windowsill.

‘There you go, Gran. Welcome to Edinburgh.’