Mum stands and turns her back to me. I feel stupid suddenly. What was I thinking? That she would give me a sewing lesson and we’d happily stitch our names together, and then add a few flowers and a rainbow?

Mum heads to the door. ‘Maybe later, OK?’ She turns, as if something has just occurred to her. ‘I know the date … when the Norns first appeared to me, I mean.’ I look at her in surprise, thinking she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

‘It was four years ago, on the last day of August. I know because that’s the day your dad phoned and said he wouldn’t be there when we got home to England.’

Mum takes a deep breath. ‘You know, the worst thing about the divorce is feeling that I’ve failed you.’

‘Failed me?’

‘I didn’t want you to come from a broken home. I shouldn’t have stuck by him after the first affair, but I thought he’d change after you were born.’

I never realised Mum felt that way, or that Dad had cheated on her before, though somehow it doesn’t surprise me. I think back on all the birthdays and sports days he wasn’t there for. Though I miss him sometimes, he spent so much time working away. He always had one foot in our life, the other out of it. ‘You’re not responsible for Dad. He’s his own person. I think he’s been seeing Chantelle a lot longer than he admits too.’

Mum smiles, a look of relief on her face.

I glance back at the embroidery. The stitching is so impressive. Each tiny knot and twig of the tree perfectly captured.

Mum sees me looking. ‘I’ll give our ancestors one thing: they were good with a needle and thread.’

I pick up the wonky heart-shaped cushion I made as a kid. ‘Beats my efforts.’

Mum grabs the cushion and hits me with it. ‘Who cares? You have other talents.’

‘I’m handy with an axe, you mean?’

Mum laughs, and it reminds me of how she used to be. I’m glad to see her happy.

‘So this Stig, you like him?’

I nod, unsure what to say. I do like him, so much. I want to tell her about the whole Nina thing, but I don’t feel ready. Not when I don’t know what to think myself.

‘Well, any boy would be lucky to have you.’

She opens the door and gives me a big smile, the kind that says everything will be all right.

Once she’s gone, I walk to the window. Maybe it’s the hypnotic nature of the falling snow, but I find myself staring into space, thinking about everything that’s happened.