At last he releases me. ‘Look at your eyes—you have Eleanor’s green one and my brown one.’

I look at his irises—my left eye matches his chocolate-brown eyes perfectly. I search for other similarities. My skin is pale and freckly while his is lightly tanned without a blemish. My hair is long, straight-ish, boring brown and drives me crazy with frizziness at my hairline just above my ears. I automatically put my hand to the offending spot to smooth it out but surprisingly it’s sitting where it’s supposed to. The dry air on the plane must have fixed that, at least for now. His hair is a shade darker, but straighter than Mum’s brown, wavy locks. Looks like I got a hair mixture of the two of them.

Mostly, I’m impressed he remembers my mum’s eyes.

He suddenly notices Melody standing beside me. ‘Melody, how are you? It’s been a long time.’

Awkward. I watch her carefully.

She embraces him quickly. ‘Adam, mate, good to see you. Sixteen years later and you still look the same. Besides the facial hair.’

No drama so far.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here. Follow me.’ My father walks towards the exit sign, and when the sliding doors open I’m hit with icy-cold air. ‘Freezing’ doesn’t even describe it. Painful. Unbearable. The sunlight is dim and even though it’s early afternoon it feels like twilight. I have to return inside to put on my beanie and bundle on all my clothes. Melody wraps a pink scarf around her neck as she waits for me.

I take out my phone and write a quick text to Paula and my best friend Lucy, saying that we’ve arrived safely. Then I send a short clip of the landscape out the window to Oliver, before putting on my gloves and stepping outside.

The car park is covered with snow, and I can feel the cold chilling my nostrils and seeping through the soles of my shoes. I puff out a few misty rings then kneel down and slip off my glove—my first time touching the white powder. It feels like a slushy. I shiver.

We stop at my father’s truck. It’s huge and black, with spotlights attached to the roof; they must be for driving in the dark. A black car in West Creek would literally fry an egg in the summer, but here …

‘You can sit up front and talk to your dad,’ Melody says.

‘Call me “Dad” only if you want to,’ he says, pulling keys from his pocket. ‘I’d be happy if you did, but if you prefer, for now, you can call me Adam.’