This is why so many of Grandmother’s stories are about women escaping their mothers, lovers and princes, and transforming themselves into someone else, thought Edith. Without such stories what future would any girl have on this mountain? Lena had been lost. She had grown out of the story told her by her mother into a story she told herself.

‘You never wished that I might be happy,’ said Lena. ‘All you wanted, all his mother wanted, all I thought I wanted was a baby.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘The miller’s son couldn’t even give me that.’

Edith put an arm around her and pointed to her bedroom, then to herself.

‘You wouldn’t mind?’ Lena asked Edith.

Edith shook her head.

‘Mind what?’ asked Lena’s mother.

‘I’m staying here.’

Her mother was shocked. ‘No you’re not, you’re coming home, you must. What would I tell the neighbours?’

Lena laughed. ‘Tell them your daughter is having Misha’s baby. Tell them I love him, not the miller’s son.’

Words are like avalanches, thought Edith. Boulders of truth come crashing down on family stories until all is rubble.

The widow slapped Lena across the face. ‘If what you say is true, there is a word for a girl like you. A word.’

‘What I say is true. And there is a word for a husband like mine,’ said Lena. ‘A word.’

Her mother left, bright red with rage.

Lena started to shake. ‘I’ve never spoken to her like that. I wouldn’t have dared before today. She won’t forgive me.’

She will, thought Edith.

Later the doctor called, sent by Lena’s mother to make sure the baby was unharmed.

In the frantic days following the disaster, the community came together with spades and poles and dogs to find the bodies of the missing. Vanda was there, desperately searching for her son, her tears frozen on her face. At night she was the last to leave.

The mayor made enquiries in order to find out where the missing persons had been when the avalanche struck. The miller told him, shamefaced, that early on the morning of the avalanche, Misha had come to his house.

‘Far too early – it was only just light. I mean, no one but a madman would be out in such a blizzard. He told me he’d been to my son’s place to warn him.’

‘To warn him of what?’ asked the mayor.

‘The avalanche. He said he’d told my son the snow was cracking and that he and Lena were in danger.’ The miller admitted that, like his son, he’d sent Misha away, adding, ‘After all, the boy’s an idiot.’

His wife had agreed that Misha’s warning was nonsense.

The miller repeated her last words as she left. ‘I’m going to see if my son is safe. His useless wife won’t know what to do.’

She never returned.