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As the family car pulls into the long gravel driveway, Betsy can barely contain her

excitement. The moment they come to a stop, she umbuckles her seatbelt and swings open

the car door. With haste she jumps out and runs toward the quaint, old, thatch cottage.

Colorful flowers and plants decorate the small front garden. Their blooms reflecting

against the properties creamy white walls. A soft breeze rustles the tall beach trees that overlook

the driveway. It carries with it the delightful scent of freshly cut grass.

But Betsy doesn't pay much attention to any of that. As she races up the gravel path leading

to the house, tiny stones crunch and skip up beneath her feet. Butterflies, bees, and ladybirds

leap up from the flower beds, suddenly awoken from the usual peace and quiet.

When she gets to the front door, Betsy stands on her tiktows and stretches out her arm

to grab a short piece of rope above. The rope is hanging from a small bell on the outer wall

of the cottage. It was only on her last visit here that should finally groan tall enough to reach it.

With an enthusiastic shake, Betsy dings the bell several times. Her mum, following up the path

to the front door, reminds her daughter that just a couple of rings will do fine. Dad shuts the

car boot carrying a small pink suitcase and a rucksack full of Betsy's favourite toys.

With the bell's chimes still resonating, Betsy peers through a frosted glass pane and sees a

sprightly figure walking down the hallway. The door opens with a soft creek and Betsy is met by the

...