The atmosphere in the camp went electric and a hush fell as Duchess placed her flippers at the edge of the iceberg. Then she jumped and slid beneath the waves.

The pup shuffled to the edge of the iceberg, staring forlornly into the sea, and my heart went out to him. I knew he’d be fine: he’d had many weeks of her milk and was in good form. But how would he survive the loss of her as a mother: her proximity, her reassuring nudges, the play she sometimes tolerated? I could see in his expression the loss lay heavy on him and, as I zoomed in, I managed to get a superb shot of his face, made even better by the fact it had started to snow again.

I suddenly wondered if I’d looked the same when my parents had stepped into that taxi to leave me at the hotel all those years before. I hadn’t seen my mother’s face from the window, just the back of her head. Like Duchess, maybe she knew it was what had to be done for my survival. I’d been in such trouble at school the preceding months. It was only her version of what Duchess was doing to keep her pup alive. Maybe not turning back to look at me was a form of self-preservation, as it was for Duchess now?

But as I thought that, Duchess’s dark head popped up in the water a few metres from the iceberg and she glanced back at her son through the snow to check he was okay.

Dylan put his hand on my arm. ‘You okay?’

‘Yep,’ I said, smiling. ‘Just sad filming is over.’

He didn’t look too convinced but he nodded anyway. ‘That pup looked pretty sad.’

‘Duchess too.’

‘Reminds me of when Heather left to go to university two years ago.’

‘How is Heather? Cole said she’s fine now?’

Dylan stared down at his gloved hands. ‘She’ll never be fine.’

‘What do you mean?’

He gazed at the icy sea, an array of emotions running over his face. ‘She saw something when she was a kid. Something no ten-year-old should see.’

‘What did she see?’ I asked.

He opened his mouth then closed it. ‘It’s not my place to talk about it.’

I wanted to pry but it wasn’t my place either so we kept quiet for a few moments.

‘Must feel surreal ending nine months of work?’ he asked me after a while.

‘It does, actually. I’ve been doing some other filming too, just for me.’

He tilted his head, a small smile on his handsome face. Snowflakes clung to his beard then melted. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘It’s nothing really,’ I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed about my little side project.

‘Tell me,’ Dylan said, dark eyes encouraging.