‘And that was that,’ Mum says, shaking her hands. ‘Gosh, it always feels so quiet when people leave.’

‘A little coffee, maybe?’ Stein suggests, patting her shoulder.

I lie down on the sofa and browse the cabin’s guest book, the others wrote in it before leaving. Olea has drawn herself holding two large fish with a wide, slightly wonky stroke of a smile, and beneath it Marthe has written half a page. I recognise her handwriting from our teenage years, very proper and slightly childish, I rarely ever see it these days. ‘Thanks for a lovely few days,’ she’s written, then a bit about the weather, up-and-down for the first few days with a fair bit of rain, but better after that. There have been trips to the town along the coast for ice cream and a few hikes to Heia, too, lots of ticks this year, they all had 150to check themselves thoroughly, Olea caught her first ever fish and Marthe took the big boat out, it’s never too late to learn! ‘We celebrated Mum’s 65th birthday with prawns and a delicious cake, and Ida joined us for a few days, too,’ she writes towards the end. ‘We’ve had a lovely holiday, and now it’s back to normality for us.’