‘You okay?’ He knows how she gets when it snows like this, memories of when she’d lost her fingers being ploughed to the surface.

‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Jasper?’

‘Yes?’

She realises in that moment there is so much she wants to say to him. So much regret and sadness. Love too. But instead she whispers: ‘Stay on the phone with me, will you? I don’t fancy being alone tonight.’

‘Me neither.’

The next morning, Amber strolls into the psych ward with Jasper. It’s not so bad there. The walls are painted a soothing blue and a teenager – a patient, Amber presumes – is sitting on a chair, reading a book. The Christmas decorations hung around the place are less in your face then the ones in the children’s wards, hints of silver and gold. When they get into the main communal area, more teenagers are sitting watching a Christmas film on TV. They just look like normal teenagers and this dispells her fears about the ward.

Then Amber realises with a shock Lumin is among them. She doesn’t recognise her at first, dressed in jeans and a thick black jumper. It pales her skin even more, makes the circles beneath her blue eyes pronounced. She looks up, catching sight of Amber. But she doesn’t react, her eyes just blinking.

‘I didn’t realise they were transferring her already!’ Amber says.

‘I didn’t either,’ Jasper replies. ‘Let me find out what’s going on.’

Amber walks over to Lumin and sits beside her. ‘Hi. How’s it going?’

She shrugs. ‘No different really.’ Her voice is slurred, her pupils dilated.

‘Have they given you something?’

Lumin scratches at her arms. ‘I had a bit of a tantrum last night,’ she says, using her fingers to form quotes. ‘They decided they needed me out of the kids’ ward sharpish. I think they’re starting to accept I might be over eighteen.’

‘Do you think you are?’

She shrugs. ‘I had a memory rehabilitation session last night though with a new doctor.’

‘Any new memories?’

She sighs. ‘Just a waterfall. A frozen one.’ She opens her fist to reveal a scrunched up drawing.

Amber takes it and flattens it out. ‘That’s good, a new memory,’ she says.

‘I guess,’ Lumin replies non-committally. She turns to the TV and Amber watches her with concern. Jen’s right, she really seems to have given up.

‘Seems to be a theme,’ Amber says. ‘Frozen beaches. Frozen lakes. Frozen waterfalls. Maybe you didn’t live in the UK and that’s why no one’s coming forward.’

‘Then how come I have a British accent?’

‘Plenty of Brits live abroad.’

‘Maybe.’ She sighs.

‘How are you finding it here?’ Amber takes in a painfully thin girl who’s examining her nails nearby, a boy pacing back and forth as he mumbles to himself.

‘Honestly?’ Lumin says, eyes alighting back on Amber. ‘It’s awful.’