As she steps into the hallway, she steps into snow. Lumin has stopped in her tracks and is staring upwards, mouth open. Amber follows her gaze to see a huge hole in the roof revealing snow-laden skies. Snow floats down, landing on their cheeks and eyelashes. Amber looks around her. The whole floor of the hallway and the stairway is blanketed with snow. Nearby, some shelves catch her eye. On one of them is a wooden sculpture of a bird flying across the sky, its snowy wings spread out.

Lumin follows her gaze then walks over and picks the sculpture up. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Amber can see a sticker on the bottom of the sculpture. It features a small drawing of a tree and three words: Dylan McClusky Designs.

‘Do you have your notepad?’ she asks Lumin.

Lumin hands it over. Amber flicks through it, examining the sketches inside. Then she nods. ‘Same kind of drawing.’

‘Yes, it is.’ She looks at the name on the sticker. and traces her finger over it. ‘Dylan. Something about that name …’ She closes her eyes for a moment then scrunches her hands in frustration. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know!’

‘You said there was a living room?’ Amber says.

Lumin nods, her eyes searching the hallway. Then she points towards two double doors to their left. ‘I think it’s in there. I remember a Christmas tree in the window, a huge window.’

They both walk towards the doors and Lumin opens them and steps inside. Sadness flickers across her face as she takes everything in. Amber follows her gaze to see the remains of a large Christmas tree lying across the living room, its brown branches scattered across two large sofas. Baubles are strewn over the floor, some of them broken.

Lumin crouches down to look at a large glass silver star lying in pieces at her feet. ‘What happened here?’ she asks, peering up at the broken ceiling, snow clinging to her eyelashes.

Amber squeezes her shoulder. ‘Let’s try to find out who owned this place.’ She goes over to a bureau that stands at the back of the room and carefully opens it. Stuffed into one of the sections is a bunch of letters. She pulls them out, flicking through them.

‘McClusky,’ she says, showing them to Lumin. ‘Mr and Mrs Oscar McClusky. Maybe you’re a McClusky.’

‘Lumin McClusky,’ Lumin whispers.

‘Looks like the McCluskys ran a company, McClusky Lodges.’

Amber looks over the letters as Lumin walks around the room, picking items up and placing them back down. There are magazines and books under the coffee table, from children’s magazines to political biographies. She gets the sense this was a real family home, the whole family coming together for Christmas. Remnants of festive wrapping paper lie dusty on the floor, and there’s a pretty metal ornament that holds a variety of cards addressed to ‘Oscar, Mairi and the family’.