I looked at my watch. Five minutes to midnight. A few minutes until it would officially be my birthday. I flinched slightly. That would make it exactly ten years since the day I saw my parents last. But I still remembered the looks on their faces like it was yesterday. The flicker of doubt on my mum’s face. The pained way my dad had regarded me.

They still sent me away though.

‘We just need some time,’ my mum had said as we’d stood in the foyer of the hotel that was to become my home. ‘It’s just too hard …’ Her voice had trailed off and she’d taken in a sharp breath, looking away. ‘This will be good for you, you’ll see.’

My aunt had put her hand on my shoulder then, giving it a quick squeeze, the one and only time she showed me any affection. I saw it as a consoling gesture at the time. But looking back, it was a stamp of ownership. As my parents walked to their taxi, I remember my mum turning once and there were tears in her eyes. I’d wanted to run after them, promise I’d be better behaved if they just let me go home with them. But then I remembered another look my mum had given me after she’d found out what had happened: the look of horror then disappointment. The memory of that look kept me rooted to the ground.

Loneliness overwhelmed me suddenly as I sat watching the seal now. The loneliness was vast like the frozen ocean before me. I thought of the McCluskys. What would they be doing now? Would they still be at the lodge after Christmas and New Year? Maybe Dylan would have made a quick exit after Christmas Day. He said he found it a bit much. Hopefully Heather would be getting some help.

I leant my head back and stared up at the stars. If only Heather knew how lucky she was to have parents who loved her. At her age, I was working my fingers to the bone for Reg. Sure, it was doing something I loved. But to have had a few more years of innocent family life with my parents, maybe a chance at university too.

As I considered the what-ifs, my eyelids began to grow heavy, exhaustion sweeping over me. I shook my head, sitting up straighter and reaching for my flasked coffee. I took a swig and stroked my camera, which was resting on my knees, ready to start filming. I looked over at Duchess, listening to the hypnotising inhale and exhale of her sleeping breath. My eyelids started to droop again, the lack of sleep rushing at me and enveloping me in a warm, heady wave …

‘Gwyneth! Gwyneth!’ Someone was shaking my shoulder. I dragged myself out of the deep fog I was in and opened my eyes, blinking at the sunlight.

Sunlight? How could it be light?