‘He is so tiresome,’ Catharina says suddenly into the sitting room’s silence, interrupting Anna’s recollection of the night before. ‘My brother, I mean. I have to rely on him for everything, at least publicly. If I were a man, I could take control of my own business interests. I could sell this house and move to Paris and paint whatever I liked. As it stands, I am stuck here, like a living statue trapped in a walled garden who can see and smell the beautiful forest beyond the gates but can never touch it. If I were free, I could pay someone to search for Griet. I’m sure they would find her and then we could…’

Anna waits for her to continue, but the artist seems to remember herself. Frowning, Catharina shakes her head and returns to her book, dismissing whatever else she intended to say. The fire crackles, sending out small sparks that flare and fizzle before they can endanger the rug. Anna longs to sit down but as Catharina has not given her permission, she continues to stand, rolling her ankles every now and then to encourage the blood flow to return to her feet. She distracts herself by imagining the proper snow that failed to materialise. She conjures the soft whump of powder falling from the house’s eaves, the vast interior silence, her thoughts stilled like boats on a windless sea. She’s always loved new snow for its purity, for the way it smothers the earth like a freshly starched sheet.

The winter that her mother’s companion Kikker came to live with them, she told them a story about three white sisters, fairies who had been given names inspired by winter: Gletsjer, Verkoudheid, Stof. When they were old enough to be wed, the sisters were courted by the same fire giant. He visited so often and for so long that the girls melted, merging into one watery being. The sisters now one, being married to the fire giant, gave birth to a son called Stoom who was a volatile, unpredictable element. No walls could contain him. He had a habit of exploding when he lost his temper, endangering sailors’ lives. In time, the local humans learned how to put his skills to good use. They paid for his services with offerings of milk and honey and called on him to help steer their ships and protect them from the sea’s icy grip and deliver them home safely to their children and wives. Playing in their nursery, Anna and Lijsbeth alternated the role of Stoom. One would burst through their bedding pillows, erupting in an explosion of feathers, a war cry warming her throat while the other cowered in the corner and begged for mercy. They played this game for weeks until their mother discovered them. She punished them for the destruction of the pillows by forcing them to sit still for hours and recite Bible verses. Although any further opportunities to indulge in the pantomime of male violence were curtailed, Anna never forgot the feeling of Stoom’s power, running through her veins like snowmelt.