Gillian proved an absolute delight with her droll commentary and the extra bits and pieces of information she dropped into conversation.

‘Linlithgow Palace was the birth place of both King James V of Scotland and Mary, Queen of Scots,’ Gillian stated in her rolling Scottish accent as she wheeled the bright yellow bus into an impossibly narrow street and parked to let them explore the ruins of the once-magnificent royal castle.

Elle ran her fingers along the rough, cold stone of the old castle walls and tried to imagine the events these old buildings must have seen. Some of the castles had stood for more than eight hundred years, their foundations sometimes dating back even further to the Romans, and earlier. It was so hard—and yet exhilarating—for Elle to try to wrap her mind around the sheer enormity of just how old the history of this country was.

There was so much to try to take in and she was often overcome by unexpected emotion. Elle wasn’t sure what it was exactly—awe mostly that she could be in the presence of something so incredibly old and beautiful. But it was also wonder. If only she really could step back in time for a while, she thought. How amazing that would be. Maybe that was the real draw of the books she loved and the popularity of these tours based around it. Being here and feeling the energy that hung around these old buildings made her yearn to go back to catch a glimpse of life as it had been all those centuries ago.

The tour was nowhere near long enough for Elle to have made use of her sketchpad, but the countless photos she had taken would serve as inspiration to draw to her heart’s content once she was back in her room, and she couldn’t wait.

When the bus pulled to a stop in front of the busy shopfront back in Edinburgh later that afternoon, Elle felt happily drained. It had been an incredible day full of experiences she would never forget.

I told you it was a good idea, Gran said, clearly chuffed with herself.

‘Yes, Gran, you were right. It was a great idea.’

She climbed the winding staircase back at the guesthouse and groaned as she took the last step onto the landing outside her room.

She was going to have buns of steel after this trip if the number of steps and hills she’d so far climbed were any indication of the rest of her time in Scotland.

As Elle sat cross-legged on the end of her bed that night, the map spread before her, she traced the route they would take the next day.

‘I booked tomorrow’s accommodation before I knew Dad had gone and set up a meet-and-greet with the family,’ Elle mused, frowning at the enormous map that covered most of her bed. There was a lot to be said for a good, detailed map, but did they have to make it almost to scale? There was no easy way to read it without needing to fold the bloody thing into segments.