I see the wood-carving sisters in their pop-up shop next door as I pass. Two masks in the window now. A brown animal-skin mask with a tiny nose. From a rat? A shrew? And a white papier-mâché mask with badger-fur trim.

‘Yes,’ says Hans Wimmer. ‘I’ll explain why they’re here as well. I’ll explain what I can. From one outsider to another.’

Then he says something I can’t pick up because he’s looking away and it’s dark.

‘Say that again, please. I didn’t catch it.’

‘You should get a cochlear implant attached to your skull,’ he says.

What? Screw you, clockman.

‘That’s none of your business,’ I say.

He stops. We’re outside the dental surgery now. That ‘No Refunds’ sign visible over Wimmer’s shoulder.

‘I apologise,’ he says. ‘My Swedish lacks nuance sometimes. I don’t have the words. I should have said my niece uses a cochlear device and finds it satisfactory overall.’

‘Happy for her,’ I say.

He walks round the back of the Hive. There are no streetlights back there. The wind picks up.

‘Just wait a minute,’ I say, looking around.

He shows me his key. ‘You don’t trust me?’

The giant bee on the roof squeaks as it turns in the murk. A car engine revs on the other side of the square. A crack. Was that rifle fire from the forest? Shouldn’t be hunting after dark. Against the rules.

‘What exactly is it that you’re going to show me, Hans?’

He stands there, a head taller than me, and breaks into a broad smile. His teeth glow so that’s all I can see.

‘It’s a local thing,’ he says, walking off.

I check my phone – thirty-four per cent battery. Full reception. I enter 112 but don’t hit call.

Behind the Hive is another door. The sign says ‘Hive Premium’.

Hans unlocks the external door. We go inside. He flicks a switch and a row of lightbulbs illuminate the corridor. Lots of other doors. Like a prison, but painted yellow and black. He unlocks another door. A staircase. We walk up.

‘Where are we going?’

I’m glad I told Lena and Seb I was heading here. I’m glad they know where I am.

‘Hive Premium,’ he says, looking back over his shoulder. ‘Discretion guaranteed. You pay more, you get more.’

Top floor. Another locked door. We go through.

The units up here are larger. There are perhaps twelve or fifteen doors covering the whole floor, so each unit must be the size of a classroom.

‘Don’t tell them I brought you up here.’

‘Don’t tell who?’

‘Anyone. Now, here’s my bargain, take it or leave it. I show you inside this unit. Explain what I can about the upcoming festivities. Then you write a long and detailed article focused on my watchmaking. Photographs and references, etcetera. Perhaps a series running over several papers.’