Grandma takes a half step back, leans her head back and cups Klara’s face in her hands. ‘Rock and salt,’ she says, patting Klara’s cheek. ‘That’s what your grandpa used to say. I know he wanted you to be like that, too. Hard as rock and salt, as you become out here on these islands. And I can’t just lay down and die, can I?’

She gives Klara a hug before cracking the door to see a car rolling forward.

‘If you want, you can come with me and Maj and Roland, you know,’ she says. ‘But why would you want to sit with us old folks? You’ve done enough for us. For me, Klara. It’s time to do something for yourself.’

All through her childhood. Every summer and Christmas. Every cold morning in the kitchen with Grandma with the pipes frozen. Every afternoon with Grandpa in his boat on the choppy sea. Everything Klara had become was given to her by them.

‘I haven’t done anything for you,’ she whispers.

But her grandmother just looks at her calmly, with eyes shining in the dark, young and alert, almost like Klara remembers them from before that terrible autumn.

‘We got you, Klara,’ Grandma answers calmly. ‘We lost your mother. But we got you. It’s more than anyone could have hoped for.’

Now Maj and Roland’s car is pulling up outside; she can hear Grandma’s sister opening the car door.

‘You know, your grandpa would never forgive himself if he knew it was his fault you ended up playing Devil’s Bridge with a bunch of old fogeys in Bottna.’

Klara smiles weakly. ‘Maybe,’ she says.

‘Maybe?’ Grandma laughs. ‘All he wanted was for you to live your own life, Klara. Just like you always did. You have no idea how proud he was, how much he bragged about you. Go to Stockholm with Gabriella. We’ll talk soon.’

She opens the door while Klara carries her bags to the car for her.

‘You’re not driving to Stockholm in this weather, are you?’ Roland says, while gently placing Grandma’s bag in the trunk of his ancient Audi.

‘I think that’s the plan,’ Klara says.

‘It’s out of the question,’ Maj says. ‘I’ll call the hostel, and they’ll fix a room for you. It’ll take twenty minutes just to get to Bottna in this sleet.’

‘Is the hostel even open this time of year?’ Klara says.

‘Believe me,’ Maj says. ‘If we ask Gertrud to fix a room for you, you can be sure she will.’

Grandma gives Klara a final hug then climbs into the back seat. ‘Promise me you won’t drive to Stockholm now,’ she says. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’