‘Utgard weasel,’ says Cornelia. ‘Snared it myself. Only had one decent eye, more’s the pity. Still, it cooked down well enough. That special looks a bit ratty but someone will want it in this town, mark my words. Rattier the better for hill folk. Alice lacquered it beautiful with birch resin and pike fat. Should last them generations.’

The weasel eye has a sheen to it, like a varnished painting. The eye looks too small for its pine socket.

In hill town, in this dark and unsigned shop, with these two, the smell of animal decay and sawdust, I feel like I’m surrounded.

‘How many are here?’ I ask, looking around into the shadows.

‘Twenty-nine, including Alice,’ says Cornelia.

‘Including Alice?’ I say.

Alice nods but she does not smile.

The troll in front of me has human hair on its carved pine fingers. Each digit ends with a human fingernail, half moon and all. It has big, rubbery lips.

‘Lips? I ask.

‘No touching, girl,’ says Cornelia. ‘You touch it, you buys it.’

I turn on the torch function of my phone and almost fall back into a troll stand.

This one has oversize teeth behind its fleshy lips. Yellow teeth with chips and dark metal fillings. Teeth with plaque. Gums?

‘Gums?’ I ask.

‘Window putty,’ says Cornelia. ‘If it keeps your window glass in, it’ll keep his gnashers in, won’t it, Alice.’

Alice bares her teeth at me. She has only three left from what I can tell, one on top and two on the bottom.

‘You get the teeth from the Edlund surgery down the road?’ I ask.

‘Don’t be stupid, girl,’ says Cornelia, the talking one. ‘Those days are long gone. These are all from overseas, we get them by the gram.’

‘Teeth,’ says Alice, nodding.

When I shine my torch around I see other trolls in various positions. These ‘specials’ are usually made to order. They’re hugely expensive. One has four legs and is cocking one of them like a dog taking a pee.

‘No price tags?’

‘If you gotta ask the price then you ain’t a troll person, truth be told,’ says Cornelia. ‘Hill folk wander in here. They see one of Alice’s trolls they set their little hearts on and they buys it. Cash only. We got masks if they can’t afford one of the specials.’

Alice covers her face with her hands and then spreads her fingers so I can see her eyes.

Some of the trolls have hair sticking out of their noses. Hair so long it brushes past their mouths. Some are bald, polished pine, like an oak ball on top of a stair spindle. Some have thick, matted hair. Others have painted hair, like black treacle poured over a polo ball.

‘Look,’ says Cornelia, walking over to me.