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In London, I’m all about work hard, play hard. I try to make the most of every moment, and I plan my free time in just as much detail as my work commitments—a habit that comes from being a wedding planner, perhaps. I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to do nothing or to have, say, an afternoon nap. Right now, though, that’s what I could do with: an afternoon nap.

I climb under the duvet, not sure whether I’ll sleep, but the next thing I know, two hours have passed. I draw myself up to a sitting position, yawning and stretching. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I smile at my reflection. I must have needed that.

It’s around five thirty, a little early for dinner. I could head out and explore Bannock some more, but . . . I don’t feel like that. No doubt the town has delights I’m yet to discover, but I’m here for a month: there’s no rush. I’m going to try taking things easy for a change.

Instead, from my suitcase I pull a book I bought near King’s Cross Station, before taking the train to Inverness. The plan had been to read it on the journey up, but I wasn’t able to concentrate—everything had still been too raw. Now I’m in a better frame of mind, I decide to give it another shot.

The book is Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon. It’s set in a small farming community in the north of Scotland in the early twentieth century. When I saw it, I knew it was the perfect read for my stay in Bannock.

Like napping, reading during the day is something I seldom do. When I was younger, I always had my head in a book, but in recent years, my reading habit has been squeezed to a few pages before bed. It can take me weeks to get through a novel.

One good thing about coming to a place like Bannock is it helps you to slow down.

I put the kettle on, open the complimentary shortbread, and settle down to read.

And read.

And read.

I don’t worry about the time. I allow myself to be absorbed by the story. The main character is a young woman, Chris Guthrie, who suffers several terrible tragedies, including losing both her parents. She meets Ewan, a man who is described as both “Highland and coarse”. Reading this description, I smirk, thinking of another coarse Highlander I know.

I’m only dragged from the book when my phone rings. It’s Grace.

“Emily!” Grace beams at me over the video call. “Wow, you look . . . different.”

“Oh? Oh, you mean my hair. I’ve decided to let it do its own thing.”

Grace shakes her head. “No, not your hair! It’s lovely, but what I meant is you seem more . . . chilled, compared to how you were yesterday. Scotland must be doing you good.”

“Today has been good. It was just what I needed. In fact, the last few hours, all I’ve done is nap and read a book.”

“And that’s great! Naps are so good for you. It’s important to take time to look after yourself.”

“Yeah. Normally I live my life at a hundred miles an hour, so it’s been nice to slow down. Having said that, I did go white-water rafting earlier.” I spend the next few minutes filling Grace in on what happened.

“Wait, let me get this straight. The man who took you rafting is the same grumpy Scotsman you were complaining about last night?”

I can’t stop the smile that sneaks onto my lips. “Yeah.”

“I saw that!” Grace points at me. “You smiled! Why are you smiling, Emily? Tell me everything! Is it because he’s all outdoorsy and, let me guess, ripped?”

“He is pretty ripped.”

“And how do you know that? Are you telling me you’ve seen him topless?”

“No! Of course not! Well . . . not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’? And, Emily, we may be on video call, but I can still tell you’re blushing. Spill the beans!”

And so I admit that, when we were changing out of our wetsuits, I may have sneaked a peek.

Grace throws her head back and laughs. “What’s getting into you? That’s not like you at all! It is pretty funny, though, but don’t go making a habit of it: spying on people who are getting changed is definitely frowned upon. But . . . if this guy opted not to wear anything under his wetsuit, and he knew he was going to be getting changed outdoors, he’s only got himself to blame. Anyway, tell me, if you couldn’t resist having a peek, how good-looking is this guy on a scale of one to ten?”

“Er . . . twenty?” I bite my lip.

Grace’s eyes widen. “Twenty? Well, it’s obviously too early to race into another relationship, but you are going to be up there for a month, and there’s no harm in having a little fun, is there? Especially since he’s a twenty out of ten.”

“Maybe it was just my imagination, but there were a couple of times today when I thought . . . well, when I thought he might kiss me. Anyway, nothing happened, and that’s for the best. I need to focus on myself.”