‘Absolutely!’ She nods slowly, holds his gaze. His expression softens. The atmosphere is different now, and she knows why. He has tested her, and the result seems to have come as a relief to both of them, in some strange way.

‘You’re probably wondering why we’ve stopped here.’ He points towards the dilapidated building. His tone is more friendly, in keeping with a professional conversation between colleagues.

‘A couple of years ago we found out that one of the big biker gangs was planning to buy this place and turn it into a clubhouse. Barbed wire, cameras, twenty-four-hour security. Definitely not the kind of set-up we want in our community. I spoke to Bengt Andersson, who was the leader of our local council, and together we came up with a solution. The environmental health inspector carried out a survey and discovered a significant amount of toxins in the ground.’

His tone remains the same, he doesn’t draw speech marks in the air around the word ‘discovered’, but they are definitely there. Anna recognises the name Bengt Andersson – where has she heard it before?

‘The property was placed on the local authority’s list of environmentally hazardous sites, and the bikers dropped out.’ Morell smiles with satisfaction. ‘It was unfortunate for the owner, but he was compensated later on. A long-term contract with the roadworks department, if I remember correctly, so everything was fine.’

The smile broadens.

‘Bengt Andersson and I have known each other for over forty years.’

Anna suddenly remembers why the name rings a bell.

‘I think we met his son over the weekend – Mats Andersson, who lives at Änglaberga?’

‘That’s right. Mats is Bengt’s youngest, and as I’m sure you noticed, he’s a little . . . different. But he’s a nice boy, completely harmless.’

Not to badgers, Anna thinks.

‘Bengt was responsible for both the state-owned off-licence and the inter-urban train coming here, and he’s the one who’s negotiating for the long-distance trains. He’s also the chair of Glarea. Without Bengt, Nedanås would still be stuck in the crisis years of the ’90s.’ There is admiration in his voice, the kind that only arises when those over sixty are talking about people in the same age group.

‘Bengt’s daughter Marie has taken over the reins on the council. She’s a smart girl, at least as ambitious as her father. She could have done anything she wanted, but she chose to stay here in Nedanås and work for the good of the community. Marie and Alexander have been friends since they were kids – she’s like a daughter to me.’ He becomes more serious. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Anna?’

She nods, even though the question is rhetorical.