That was when the darkness had seeped into her. She knew she’d been wrong to ask him to cut down the tree. Everything feels so different here, as though they’re no longer on the earth but in some other place – an in-between. Time, light, and even the elements are expanded and contracted here, so different they require different names. She feels the boundary between her own self and the land has been ruptured. That she is affected by the forest, the fjord, the wildlife. No, not just affected – occasionally possessed by the spirit of the place. She touches her hand to the glass of the mirror and gives a wry laugh. If anyone heard her thoughts they’d think she’d gone mad. Possessed! Still, the felling of the tree feels like a death, like slaughter. She feels physically pained by it.

Tom reassured her that he’d put the wood to good use. He Skyped Derry, who began to draw up plans for bespoke kitchen units, a dining table, a hand-carved bed for Coco. It reassured her a little that the tree would not be wasted. But when she’d gone outside there were at least a dozen nests on the ground, some still with broken eggshells inside. A steady trail of insects ribboned away from the branches. Squirrels and other creatures she didn’t even recognize darted on the ground, as though they too had been displaced. The roots of the tree looked like human veins ripped from flesh.

She tries to remember what Tom said. ‘There are a million other trees for them to go to, Aurelia. Don’t be so sensitive.’

He’d said it gently, pulled her close and kissed her forehead. More to the point, he was right. She’s just adjusting, that’s what this is. They’re both such city slickers that they didn’t even think to find out about garbage disposal. It’s not like the council is going to be sending out a weekly bin collection.

She checks that the baby is still asleep in the crib beside her bed before opening the last box to be unpacked. There, right at the bottom, are her cameras. A digital Nikon SLR and a Leica M6 with a few dozen films. She’s not used the Leica in ages as it’s crazy difficult to get film developed. She remembers burning her fingertips on the acidic chemical fluid in the college darkroom as a teenager, then taking Polaroid selfies back in the 90s and being amazed when, in a minute or so, a photographic souvenir of whatever wild night out she was enjoying with uni friends could be captured on a slim card. How things have changed. Somehow taking photographs on her phone feels like a little bit of the magic is lost.