Relieved not to have to keep trudging around in search of a table big enough to fit all six of them – and discussing whose job it had been to book one – they sit down and automatically turn to gaze at the sea.

In the west, Frisel can be seen on the other side of the narrow sound that separates Doggerland’s southernmost island from its main one, Heimö. The light from the bonfires on Frisel’s beaches flicker like will-o’-the-wisps, and the racket in the central parts of town are pleasantly remote down here.

‘Oh my God, that feels good,’ Aylin groans and gingerly pulls her feet out of her chafing new shoes before leaning back and closing her eyes.

‘See, I told you everything would turn out OK,’ Eirik says. ‘Or would anyone here have preferred to sit inside?’

Everyone except him had agreed that he was the one who was supposed to have booked them a table at one of the city’s decent restaurants. Even in much worse weather, all but the worst dives are usually full on Walpurgis.

But it had slipped Eirik’s mind. And so they had trotted around for almost an hour, only to conclude there wasn’t a free table anywhere. No one gives a second thought to why the group that had booked this table had decided to have an early-bird dinner.

‘Everyone’s eating, right?’ Eirik says and waves a waitress over. ‘I hear they have good squid.’

‘I don’t care what it is, so long as I can have a pint first,’ Kore replies.

Mumbled agreement, but no one seems to have the energy to get involved in ordering. Eirik turns to the waitress.

‘We’ll have a round of beer while we peruse the menu. Yes, lager, cold. Bring an assortment, they don’t seem to care either way.’

A sudden racket a few tables down makes Aylin go rigid and open her eyes.

Karen notes the instantaneous shift from relaxed enjoyment to full-on flight mode. Sees Aylin’s shoulders drop back down when she realises what everyone else knew right away; just a knocked-over glass, someone yelping when the contents spilled. Sees how embarrassed she is about overreacting. She silently seeks Aylin’s eyes and finds them. Holds her gaze for a few seconds, reminding her that it’s over.

At least . . . it seems like it’s finally over. No visits, no threats, the divorce papers signed without protest. Bo Ramnes still appears to be keeping clear of the woman he almost beat to death just a few months ago. For the first time, he’s more afraid than she is.

And no one can ever find out why. Not if I want to keep my job, Karen thinks.