‘I don’t think they ever meant that there were only forty shades.’ Liv laughed and rubbed against her twin affectionately. It still shocked her, that feeling that the very fabric of Rachel had changed so much. They had spent a lifetime being identical and suddenly, within the space of months, it seemed that one had wasted away to half the person of the other. Liv gasped. It was a sharp intake of breath at the sadness that had somehow become everything she was now, even if she pretended otherwise. ‘God, it’s even more beautiful than I ever remember seeing it before.’

‘It is the most dramatic display ever; the weather forecaster was banging on about it earlier when I went to visit my nan,’ Pete said, taking a handful of crisps and munching thoughtfully. The sky looked as though someone had emptied out a paint box on the other side of the universe and all the most brilliant colours were colliding in heart-stopping splendour. ‘I think they’ve put it on just for you, Rachel.’ His voice dipped a little now. Liv was thinking exactly the same thing, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Well, not in front of Rachel anyway; it seemed too much like the curtain on the final act drawing closed.

‘Well, it’s the best present I could have asked for,’ she said softly. Her eyes were wide, just like when they were children, her mouth slightly open as her head tilted further and further back. ‘The best night ever.’

Pete pulled the huge quilt up closer around the three of them, tucking it under Rachel’s chin, cutting out any chill that might penetrate her fragile body. It was September. Evenings were drawing in cooler, but even if they wouldn’t say so, none of them wanted this day to end. For just one night, they could pretend that this would go on forever, for one night only, the sky was clear and aurora borealis was giving them the display of a lifetime, playing out a dramatic backdrop across the sky in the distance.

‘It’s perfect,’ Liv breathed, glancing from Rachel to Pete, but their attention was completely wrapped up in the display before them. They were holding hands, under the blanket, and then as if Rachel knew she knew, she stretched her arm around Liv’s shoulders and pulled her closer to them. Liv inhaled the scent of her sister. She wanted to pull down a shutter on this moment and keep them here safe and together forever, but she was a nurse; she knew well enough that you can’t do that, no matter how much you love people. There’s no stopping the progress of some things. Rachel’s cancer diagnosis: its uncontainable march to the inevitable terrible end, was as unstoppable to her as the Northern Lights playing out over their heads.

‘It’s like emeralds, stringing out across the sky,’ Pete said.