‘Look at this,’ shouts Birk, shoving his little sister aside, who responds by throwing the chewed stick hard at the back of his head. Camilla rolls her eyes at me, then intercepts, speaking calmly and diplomatically until the argument dies down and they run back down toward the sand, laughing and shouting. My sister – the perfect mother. She really is. She took to motherhood like a duck to water, like she was born to take care of little people, unlike me. I feel a surge of familiar jealousy toward my older sister, though these days I recognize it instantly and am able to consciously choose to not rise to it. We are fourteen months apart, and as a child, it was hard to be in the shadow of someone always that little bit faster, cleverer, more accomplished. I often felt like a lesser version of her, and it wasn’t until I was older that I realized I probably got treated as such. As a teenager, I made a real point out of distancing myself from Camilla, dying my hair blonde and barely acknowledging her at school. As adults, we are extremely close – I’d say Camilla is the person I’m closest to besides Eirik.

Still, our relationship occasionally feels difficult for me – ever since Eirik and I started trying for a baby two years ago. I suppose I took it for granted that I would just get pregnant as soon as I wanted to, like my sister. That I still haven’t, in spite of everything, feels like a profound betrayal by my body and these are things I work intently on in my own therapy. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make my peace with it if we remain unsuccessful, especially if the underlying reason turns out to be the aftermath of trauma. The irony of dedicating my life to healing other people’s trauma, while being held back by my own. I swallow hard and turn to my sister.

‘Did I tell you that we’re taking a break from IVF?’

‘No.’

I nod. Our eyes meet; hers are full of kindness. She looks how I hope I look when my clients share something important with me.

‘Yeah. Well. My body was literally crumbling from overstimulation. It’s a relief to have a break from all the injections.’

‘I can imagine. I’m sorry, Kristina. It will happen.’

‘Yeah.’ I look at Birk and Vilja chasing each other down the beach, their wellies leaving soggy footprints that moments later get erased by the surging, cold waves.

‘It will.’

‘Yeah. You know, it sounds a little mad, but I sometimes feel this irrational hope that it could still happen naturally. That if we could just remove ourselves from all the stress, from the invasive procedures, the injections and the carefully timed sex that doesn’t feel sexy at all, then it might just happen—’

‘And it might.’