Before my grandmother died, we would walk down to the cemetery, sit on the bench that faced the road and count cars. Just the red ones. When the count reached ten, we’d walk back up the hill to Gran’s house for a cup of tea and a shortbread biscuit. The most amazing thing about Gran’s house was the bathroom. It was purple in every sense of the word. That is, it was painted mauve and always smelled like lavender, from …