simple at all,’ Dan says. ‘I see that now. Dad didn’t plan to let us down, didn’t plan to fall out of love with Mum. You can’t choose who you fall for, can you?’

I bite my lip. ‘Suppose not.’

I make a smaller snowball, fixing it on to the body of the snowman while Dan hunts for pebbles and stones for eyes.

‘The snow’s too thick,’ he frowns. ‘I can’t find anything. Oh, hang on…’ He finds a half-eaten packet of Rolos in his pocket and presses them into the white snow to make eyes, a smiling mouth, coat buttons.

‘I’m still angry at Dad,’ Dan sighs. ‘It doesn’t just go away overnight, but… well, he still loves me and Ben and Nate.’ Dan takes off his scarf and winds it round the snowman’s neck.

‘Running away wasn’t the answer,’ he says. ‘You can’t run from the truth, can you? Staying put and making the best of what you have is better, right?’

‘Right,’ I say, thinking of our chance to stay in Liverpool, and how it means settling for something that wasn’t quite our dream. It still seems like the right thing to do, though.

‘I caused Mum almost as much trouble as Dad did,’ Dan reflects. ‘Skiving school, getting into trouble. I’m going to change, Anya. Grow up, make a go of things, like you said.’

‘I’ll help you,’ I tell him. ‘Promise.’

‘It’s a deal!’

We give the snowman some branches for arms and stand back, admiring our creation. ‘He’s cool,’ Dan pronounces, forming another snowball, packing it tight.

‘Cool, yes,’ I agree. ‘What’s the snowball for?’

Dan’s eyes twinkle. ‘Can’t you guess?’

I run then, floundering through the thick snow, the eerie darkness, skidding and slipping and laughing, but the snowball hits me on the shoulder and I stop, gathering up ammunition of my own. I have more experience of snowball fights than Dan, experience gained from a long childhood of white winters back in Krakow, of snowballs thrown in the school playground, snow wars that could divide a class. I pelt Dan until he’s begging for mercy, until he catches me, whirling me round and round in the snow, and kisses me. His caramel skin is icy cold against my cheek, but his lips are warm. The kiss is the way I remember, soft and sweet and lingering, but this time it means a whole lot more. It’s a kiss that says we know each other, need each other, believe in each other.

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘You’re the best thing in my life, Anya, you know that?’

I’ve never been anybody’s best thing before, except maybe Mum and Dad’s, and that’s a position I have to share with Kazia, of course.

‘In my life, you’re the best thing too,’ I whisper, and I know that it’s true.

‘Have you ever made a snow angel?’ Dan asks.

‘Snow… angel?’

He lets himself fall backwards into the snow, laughing, lying flat out, his arms windmilling up and down. ‘Come on! Try it!’

I flop down beside him, the jolt of cold making me squeal. ‘Dan!’ I yelp. ‘We could freeze to death!’ Snow sticks to my pyjama legs, creeps in like an icy finger between my scarf and my collar.

‘Fun, though,’ Dan tells me. ‘No cheating. Now, move your arms up and down… push at the snow…’

I look up at the sky, streaked now with violet and gold, and I take a deep breath in and reach for Dan’s fingers. They wrap around mine, holding tight.

When we stand up, brushing off the snow, shivering, there in the snow is an impression of two bodies with wings. Snow angels.

Dan looks down at them. ‘I’m not an angel,’ he says. ‘I’m just me, OK?’

‘I know.’

‘Happy Christmas, Anya…’

Snowflakes drift down around us as we walk back towards the flat, hand in hand, our faces turned up to the lightening sky.

That was five months ago, and a whole lot of stuff has changed since then. Dad started work with the Santa Claus guy, managing the rocking-horse workshop, and things went well – really well. He’s doing a job he loves, learning fast, expanding the business. Orders are flooding in, and still the waiting list grows.

These days, my dad doesn’t look worn out and grey-faced and hopeless. He looks like a man with a dream, a dream that might just come true this time.

Mum started work with Karen at the cafe – they were a great team, but keeping that cafe afloat was tough. All those cupcakes and melt-in-the-mouth meringues, the cream slices