‘So, this is what Tabor looks like,’ he says, glancing around curiously. ‘I’ve only ever seen the house from the outside, and that must be twenty-five or thirty years ago. I see the slide is gone.’

Anna frowns and tries to work out what he’s talking about, but to no avail.

‘Karl-Johan knocked a hole in the wall at the gable end of the house and built a slide – a blue metal one,’ he explains, making a gliding motion with his hand. ‘Everyone thought it was for the boy, but actually Karl-Johan used it himself. Because walking down the stairs was so tedious, he said. Karl-Johan had his own way of looking at the world.’

Göran laughs as he continues to inspect the kitchen.

‘How did he end up here?’ she asks as she fills his cup. The combination of pouring-coffee-asking-questions works well, as always.

‘Karl-Johan and Elisabet met when she was at university in Lund.’ He leans forward, lowers his voice. ‘She fell pregnant pretty quickly, and they were in a hurry to get married. Old man Vidje dropped dead soon afterwards. Some people said it was the shock that killed him.’ Göran grins, revealing the snus plug. ‘Elisabet had to give up her studies and move back to Änglaberga to help her mother with the farm. Karl-Johan came with her, and fell in love with the place. It was the ’70s and the so-called green wave – lots of city-dwellers who decided to change direction and become farmers. Learn the kind of thing that takes generations in just a matter of weeks.’

He grins again, discreetly removes the snus before sipping his coffee.

‘So, Karl-Johan wasn’t much of a farmer?’

‘You could say that. He had plenty of ideas, each one crazier than the last. He tried to cultivate vines; for a while he kept llamas in an enclosure behind the house. Llamas, in Skåne – can you imagine? What was he going to do with them? Organise a spitting contest?’

Göran is so taken with his own witticism that he almost chokes on his coffee. When he has recovered, he goes on:

‘What’s surprising is that Elisabet let him carry on for as long as she did. After a few years the bank was threatening to repossess the whole of Änglaberga, so Elisabet had Tabor converted into a studio for Karl-Johan, and persuaded him to start painting again. Which was very smart, and not only because his work is worth a fortune today. Thanks to Bror Klein, Elisabet is now one of the largest landowners on the ridge. He’s looked after Änglaberga for all these years as if the place was his own.’

Göran seems to have finished his tale, so Anna brings out the box of cakes she bought earlier.

‘How well did you know Karl-Johan?’ she asks as he finishes off the first raspberry tart.