I don’t immediately appreciate the effect all this is having on them until one night, after a tremendous crack in the sky, a storm breaks with such intensity it takes the power out with it. It’s early evening and as the cabin darkens and I realize the lights aren’t going to come back on anytime soon, I offer to take the children to Ague for a hamburger dinner. Both Jack and Emmy immediately begin synchronized wailing.

‘It’s all right, my chicks,’ I say tenderly, ‘I know it’s scary, but we’ll just throw on our boots and drive to town.’ Renewed moans from the children.

‘I don’t want to go to bloody Ague.’ Jack beats his fists against my, chest. ‘We want to have marshmallows for supper and light fires. Why do we have to go to Ague when this is the best day of our lives?’

‘Best day of our lives,’ Emmy gurgles.

Later, when I blow out the candles, I look at them, faces pressed against the window, looking at the orange mist outside and discussing what lies beyond, and I realize with a pang that they’re beginning to change. Gone is the me, me, me of their former London selves; it’s as if everything they are experiencing has jumpstarted their curiosity and suddenly the whole world is opening up to them. And, for the first time since we arrived, all the doubts and guilt I’ve been pushing down so hard slowly seep out of my body and I begin to feel cautiously optimistic.

9

The first thing I ask Duval to do is have the workers enlarge my bedroom window.

There’s a grunt.

‘What?’

Pause. ‘Cabins out here traditionally don’t have big windows.’

‘Well I know, but then traditionally they don’t have a view either.’

‘There’s a pretty fine view from the front deck.’

‘Yes, I know that, but the thing is, I’d like to have a view from my bedroom so I can see it when I wake up.’

Pause. ‘Those windows were built small for good reason.’

‘Which is?’

‘Keep warmth in, keep the sun out.’

‘Well now we have a stove, so there’s plenty of heat, and I come from a city that gets sun about three days of the year so . . .’

Pause. ‘It might not be practical, is all.’

I mentally stamp my little foot. ‘How about you cost it, then I can decide whether it’s practical or not?’

‘It’s your dollar, ma’am,’ he says mildly.