‘No, thank you. It’s over and done with.’

Alma filled a mug of coffee from an old filter machine in the corner and put it in front of Ninni. ‘Here. I’ll bring you something to go with that.’

Ninni lifted the mug and sipped from it. ‘You make the best coffee,’ she said, avoiding any more discussion on the topic. She didn’t even want to think about Karl.

‘Here, eat something. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.’ Alma put a plate in front of her.

Ninni looked at the bun. Sticky coconut icing and a yellow custard centre covering a golden wheat bun. It smelled of home and everything cosy. ‘My favourite. Thank you.’

Alma didn’t ask any further questions. She understood. ‘Fresh from the oven this morning. We have been baking for the last three days to be ready for tomorrow. Do you need any groceries?’

Ninni hesitated, but Alma lifted her eyebrows. ‘I bet there’s no food in the house. Neither you nor your dad have been here since Agnar’s funeral in January. I’m guessing the only things to eat in the house are stale Christmas biscuits and perhaps a marzipan pig or two.’

‘I can guarantee you there are absolutely no sweets. I made sure of that. For now, I just need the basics, fresh food to last me a few days while I settle in.’

While Ninni was enjoying the pastry, Alma went quickly round the shop, filling a basket with the essentials.

‘Do you need any shampoo, stuff like that?’ she called out from behind one of the aisles.

‘No, just bread and milk, butter and cheese. And some apples. Everything else is there. You know Pappa, he fills up the house like the Russians are invading or something. Loads of fish and meat in the freezer and plenty of canned and dry food in the pantry.’

Alma set down two heavy carrier bags on the floor next to the door. ‘I’ll put it on your dad’s bill.’

‘Sure,’ Ninni said. She’d pay him back. ‘Has anything new happened this winter?’

‘Not much. Sigrid and Olav’s barn finally fell over in one of the storms. It’s been rotting away for years, so it was a matter of time. They are planning to rebuild it. God knows how those hippies plan to pay for it. Do you know Sigrid told me that she’s determined to clean all their clothes in the stream and not in a washing machine, because it’s too modern?’

‘Sounds exhausting,’ Ninni said.

‘God, when I think back to how we used to boil clothes with that ugly pine soap until the skin on our hands cracked. I cried with happiness the first time I got a washing machine in my house. They are weird.’

The hippies owned a smallholding on the south side of the island, where they grew organic food to sell in town.

‘Then there’s a new problem with Agnar’s farm,’ Alma continued. ‘Turns out he had a will.’