‘This is smoked haddock kedgeree,’ Alice said, seeing Elle hesitate as she tried to decide what to put on her plate. It looked like a risotto and had a very strong smell of smoked fish. ‘That’s black pudding, and there’s Balmoral chicken, which is chicken breast stuffed with haggis and has a Glayva sauce. And those are haggis bon bons.’ She pointed to another plate with little round deep-fried breadcrumbed croquettes, which Elle piled onto her plate and then, taking advice from Alice, added a dollop of creamy sauce that had a strong scent of whisky.

The meal was a happily chaotic affair, and even though Elle struggled at times to understand so many beautifully lilting Scottish accents, she felt completely at ease, as though she’d been part of the family all her life.

‘That was amazing, Alice. Thank you so much,’ she said, sitting back in her chair with an empty plate in front of her.

‘I hope you left some room because there’s dessert to come yet.’

Elle bit back a groan as a large trifle dish came out. Cranachan, she was told, was made with toasted oats, thick cream and raspberries—and it was absolutely delicious. The clootie dumpling, though, was very familiar.

‘Gran used to make this,’ Elle said, surprised when she spotted it.

‘And probably used the same recipe,’ Alice said with a fond smile. ‘This came from my great-grandmother.’

My grandmother, Gran said softly. The mention of someone familiar and obviously very important was enough to bring Gran back.

Elle had spent countless hours in Gran’s kitchen watching her mix the flour, cinnamon, spices, grated apple, suet and sugar before wrapping it all in a cloth and boiling it in a huge pot, like a dumpling.

As Elle took a spoonful, she savoured the familiar taste, closing her eyes briefly as a flood of childhood memories washed over her. It tasted just like Gran’s. Elle found it hard to swallow as her throat tightened at the thought that she would never have another of Gran’s clootie dumplings again.

You have the recipe—you know how to make it, Gran said gently.

It won’t be the same.

It will be, over time. I always thought of my grandmother every time I cooked it for you, just as she would have thought of her grandmother, she said. That’s why we pass things down, our stories and our recipes; it’s how we keep those we love close to us.

‘Are you all right, Elle?’ Aila asked quietly from beside her.

Elle opened her eyes and cleared her throat quickly. ‘Sorry … I was just thinking about Gran,’ she said, blinking quickly before summoning a bright smile.