‘I have a theory,’ Finckel said. ‘The only one of us three with a real chance here is me.’

‘Oh, yes?’ I said, looking around. At the table beside us sat a woman of my age, with a beautiful but inebriated face, on which time and anxiety had left their marks, like birds’ feet in virgin snow. She had a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth, and for a moment I thought I had caught her eye, before I realised she was staring at the empty space between us.

‘You, Jakob, look much too youthful with the bush you’ve grown on your mug,’ he continued. ‘And you, Varg, my lad, you’ve got a bit too much spring in your step. These ladies here, whose bodies haven’t quite withstood the ravages of time, and certainly can’t take strong lighting, they prefer to see themselves reflected in a body that’s even more run-down. That’s why they’ll choose one like mine,’ he said with a proud smile, gripping his stomach and hoisting it, then carefully letting it fall back over his belt.25

‘So we should’ve stayed where we were, in other words?’ I said.

He laughed. ‘No, no, no. The age gap was too great. Two ladies in their thirties would be right for you.’

‘Do you know any?’

‘Yes, if you like them well used.’

‘That’s typical of you.’

Soon afterwards he was dancing with the woman from the adjacent table. She floated like an unacknowledged ballerina between his short arms, but her head was way, way back and they communicated only with their lower bodies.

Jakob and I drowned our lost youths in two more beers, tucked into burnt steaks and overcooked cauliflower and our heads felt heavier and heavier. It had been a long day, as days that start with a funeral are wont to be.

‘I remember once when we were in upper secondary, Varg. There was a whole gang of us who went to Neptun after a society meeting – the last one in the spring, in May. They had some lilies on the table. You put a bunch in your beer glass and asked: ‘Do you serve beer in vases here? Not long afterwards we were asked to leave.’

‘We were often asked to leave in those days.’

We finished eating. For dessert we ordered two more beers. Paul Finckel had ordered another well before us and sat down at the adjacent table, which made the woman he had been dancing with appear even more nervous and drunk.

Jakob eyed me inquisitorially. ‘You’ve gone so quiet, Varg. What’s on your mind?’

‘I was thinking back to … those days.’ I smiled sardonically. ‘To the girls we knew.’

‘Who in particular?’26

‘Well, various girls.’ I ran my eyes around the room.

‘Can you see any of them here? Would you like to dance?’

‘No, I’m afraid these ones would be too old, even twenty-five years ago they would have been.’

‘Perhaps we should leave?’ Jakob slurred. The beer was having an effect.