Over the next couple of hours, we enjoyed a wonderful meal as I was asked questions about my work and I learnt about everyone else. I tried not to look at Dylan, but I couldn’t help myself. I could tell he was doing the same, catching my eye when I turned towards him and quickly looking away.

‘What about you?’ Asher asked me when the conversation turned to family. ‘Any family waiting for you back home?’

I shook my head quickly. ‘Parents are dead, no siblings.’

‘That explains the sadness in your eyes!’ Hekla exclaimed. ‘I knew there was something. What happened?’ she asked, eyes hungry for information.

‘Car crash … though it was many years ago now. I didn’t realise there was sadness in my eyes,’ I said, attempting to sound light-hearted.

But Hekla didn’t laugh back, just continued watching me. I looked away. Why did they have to bring it up? I’d been having such a good time. But now my mind was filled with memories, dark memories.

‘Come,’ Asher says. ‘It’s time to see the bonfire.’

I stood, welcoming the distraction. We bundled ourselves up in our coats again and headed out into the heavy snow. I stood with the two brothers, watching as the flames leapt into the air and danced on their handsome faces.

I thought of another time, another bonfire. It was just before I left my parents. A summer music event was being held at a local park with a big campfire. It was the first time we’d ventured out after what I’d done. Several months had passed and we’d spent those months hidden away mainly, going to work and school before returning to silence at home. Then Mum had said out of the blue: ‘Let’s go to the event up the road.’

I’d been surprised but excited. Anxious too. What would people say? We did get stares as we approached the park but I focused on the flames ahead of me and the warmth that radiated from them. Dad even bought me candy floss and Mum smiled at me and it was like everything was back to normal again. But, of course, it wasn’t. A boy walked past, a boy we both recognised from that fateful day. He glimpsed over at me, eyes widening in recognition. I saw it on my mum’s face then, the memories slashed across it. Before I knew it, her hand was slipping from mine and she was walking away.

‘What’s wrong?’ my dad had asked, running after her. But I had known. And as I stood alone, the feeling of the campfire’s warmth on my skin was suddenly scorching. I imagined stepping into the flames.

Would my parents even notice? I remembered thinking.

‘Gwyneth?’ Dylan said softly. I looked up at him, forcing a smile. He put his fingers to my cheeks. ‘You’re crying.’