‘Look,’ my father says, pointing upwards.

My mouth drops open and I can’t rip my eyes from the sight. The sky is moving with waves of colour, rivers of green, blue and purple.

This is what my father meant by there being no words to describe nature.

‘The northern lights. You can’t see them well from a big city and you need the ideal meteorological conditions for them to occur as well as a clear sky, no clouds. It has to be perfect.’

Perfect conditions. Perfect.

I continue to stare. Can my father fulfil the fantasy of my perfect dad? He has been warm and considerate, but if he doesn’t talk to me, how will I know who he is and if we have anything in common?

The fresh snow makes a soft mattress. We lie on our backs, our eyes towards the sky, and ooh and aah. I feel like I’m five watching the early fireworks on New Year’s Eve, my mum beside me, hugging me tight.

I wrap my arms around my chest, watching and thinking of her. Sending her my love through the galaxies to wherever she is floating above.

After a while, Jaxon leaves us and returns to the tent, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

‘Have you seen it many times before?’ I ask my father, once we’re alone.

‘I used to,’ he says.

‘When you were a kid?’

‘No, I grew up in Chicago—can’t see a damn thing in the sky over there.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ I say. I don’t know anything. ‘Why did you move here?’

‘Someone brought me,’ he says. ‘Long story.’

‘To do with work?’

‘No, not work …’

He doesn’t finish his sentence. That’s it. I can’t keep playing chief police inspector interrogating an uncooperative suspect. ‘Goodnight then.’ I sigh, getting up and brushing snow off my back. ‘I’m going back to bed.’

‘No, Sky. Stay for a bit. I’m sorry, I’m not used to sharing much. Let me tell you a little about my life.’

I sit back down.

‘I was married for a while,’ he says, propping himself up on his elbow, turning to face me.

Married? It feels like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He left my mum only to find someone else. Was she better, more loveable?

‘She showed me the lights first. Steph knew them well, used to snow camp even as a toddler. A real mountain woman, Alaskan born and bred. The wilderness was her home, a bit like those wolves we saw. Her family prided themselves on living off the land, and she taught me to love it too. With all my heart.’