Take Me Home Chapter Sampler
Take Me Home Chapter Sampler
Take Me Home Chapter Sampler
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
1
Karly Lane
2
Take Me Home
3
Karly Lane
4
Take Me Home
parents—but in the end she had been talked out of it. ‘You
need security, Elspeth,’ her mother had said. ‘A reliable career.’
Gran had been the only one who encouraged her. ‘If art is
where your heart is, then you should follow it,’ she’d argued
when a tearful Elle had come home between semesters.
‘I can’t. Mum and Dad won’t let me,’ she’d sniffed, wiping
her eyes.
‘This is your life. Your decision.’
‘They’ve already said they won’t pay for art school.’
‘So? Get a job and pay your own way. I can lend you some
money if you need it,’ Gran had suggested.
The idea had been tempting, but the more she’d pictured
herself at art school, the more easily she could hear the
arguments and imagine the frosty silences she would have to
endure throughout her studies, and probably for a long time
afterwards. Elle didn’t do confrontation. She liked to keep the
peace and not rock any boats. So, she’d kept her head down
and did her best to stick with the university course. She’d
managed two years before giving up.
Mostly, she’d missed the peace and quiet of Jessup’s Creek.
She wasn’t cut out to be a city girl, and studying was not for
her, so she’d come home and listened to her parents’ concerned
lectures before getting a job at Brown’s to think over her
options. That had been three years ago.
Elle liked the work, for the most part. The oldies who
shopped there had been loyal customers all their lives and there
was a tightknit community feel about Brown’s. It was more
than just a grocery store—more than the soulless big-chain
supermarkets she’d visited in the city. This was a place where
5
Karly Lane
6
Take Me Home
‘They’re okay. It’s been busy with all the family coming
and going.’ Elle shrugged.
‘I can imagine,’ Mrs Henderson said, nodding in sympathy.
‘Iona will be missed.’
Elle forced her smile to remain in place as she scanned and
bagged the items. She had taken three days off work after the
funeral, glad not to be fending off well-meant sympathy from
locals when everything was still so fresh, but she’d been back
at work for more than a week now and it wasn’t getting any
easier. She was sure everyone who’d known Gran must have
come in to buy their groceries by now, but each day brought
a few more customers who would wait and come through her
checkout just so they could offer their condolences. It was
touching that so many people had loved her gran and wanted
the chance to say how sorry they were at her passing, but it
was also draining.
Gran had been her rock, always. The two had been insep-
arable. They shared a love of reading and history, and Elle
had sat for countless hours listening to her grandmother tell
stories about her childhood in Scotland. Gran had always
had a deep love for her ancestral homeland, which Elle found
infectious. Her Scottish brogue—which she’d managed to hold
onto despite having emigrated to Australia with her father
when she was fifteen—added a colourful tone to the stories
she passed down, and Elspeth, who was named after Iona’s
mother, loved everything about the world Gran brought so
vividly to life.
Elle’s favourites were the tales of Stormeil, the once-
magnificent castle of Iona’s forebears. As a child, Elle had
7
Karly Lane
imagined living within its magical walls, as would any kid who
ever dreamed of becoming a princess, only to discover when
she was much older that the castle no longer existed—it was
left to fall into disrepair sometime in the sixteenth century.
Her dreams of becoming a princess had been destroyed like
the ruins of her ancestors’ castle. This, however, never dulled
Gran’s enthusiasm. To her, the castle was still an important
part of her heritage.
It had always made Gran sad that her only son, Elle’s father,
had never felt the same connection to Scotland. ‘He’s too much
like his father,’ Gran had once said. She had loved her husband
dearly, but he was a fourth-generation Australian and a man
whose heart and life were firmly rooted in New South Wales.
For years Elle and her gran discussed taking a trip to
Scotland, returning to Iona’s homeland and visiting the places
they had always talked about. But time had run out.
Pa hadn’t liked to fly, and even though Elle’s parents had
offered to take Gran, she had refused to go without him.
Years later, after her husband’s death, Iona had a series of
small strokes that had her doctors cautioning her against
flying, and as a result, Gran stopped talking about it. She
still had family there, but Elle knew they weren’t close. Gran
had lost two brothers over the years and had only a sister
remaining, but the two had never done more than exchange
the odd letter and a Christmas card each year. It was strange
for Elle to think that Gran had lived here longer than in her
home country—seventy-three years. And yet Australia had
never really seemed to be her home. Towards the end, Elle
had heard a sad note in her gran’s voice when she spoke of
8
Take Me Home
Scotland. Her family may have been here, but her heart was
across the ocean.
When Elle had returned from university and moved in
with Gran, they’d talked about going again. ‘Don’t you want
to visit your sister?’ Elle remembered asking one Christmas
as she placed a card from Scotland, with the spidery old-lady
writing inside, on the mantel.
‘Well, sure, it would be grand to see the family again, but
I don’t know.’ Gran had been a little flustered as she whisked
the feather duster over the coffee table, turning away. ‘They’re
like strangers now. It’s been so long.’
It had never been easy to bring up her family in conver
sation, and Elle knew, deep down, that the trip was never
going to eventuate. Gran had known it too, she thought. She
just couldn’t admit it out loud.
Elle frowned, thinking once again about the peculiar
things that had happened lately. At first it was subtle—she
would absentmindedly pick up a book and it would be set
in Scotland, or she would see something on the news. She
would spot strange shapes that looked like the shape of the
country, or Scottish music would come on the radio. Then it
had been other odd occurrences. Things she was trying hard
to explain rationally.
Yesterday she had walked past her bedside table and
discovered one of her gran’s crocheted handkerchiefs that
hadn’t been there before. She often swore she could smell her
gran’s perfume throughout the day, only she could never find
anything that would explain why. It was clearly some kind of
grief-related issue, but it seemed to be getting worse.
9
Karly Lane
10
Take Me Home
11