‘I never tried it with my fingers. Not like that. They only started looking like this when I was a teenager, and by then I’d realised it wasn’t the best idea to cut things off. I’ve obviously groomed them; for a while I did it daily. And I’ve painted my nails. If I can call them that. I’ve put plasters on them too.’

She put the glove back on and immediately started massaging her fingers, methodically and vigorously.

‘How did you get him to come?’

‘I promised Fanny they can stay with us. That they can live with me. All of them.’

‘Where? On Andøya?’

She nodded.

‘It’s the only place the little boy will feel at home and have a decent life.’

‘Is Erasmus going to leave you alone?’

‘You and the thurse could live there too. Nearby.’

‘This business with Susso Myrén,’ he said. ‘It’s just a shot in the dark. A straw to grasp at. And we both know it. We don’t know if he’ll turn and in the unlikely event that he does, we don’t know what he’ll be like. He’s never been alone.’

‘Do you hate her?’

‘Who?’

‘The girl. The troll hunter.’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve wondered where the idea came from. If it came from the thurse or from you. But maybe you don’t know yourself.’

‘It was the only thing I could think of. And he’s angry. He’s furious. But he can’t get it out. It’s like it’s stuck inside him.’

‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘I think I might try to have a little nap.’

She made sure the pillows were where they should be before leaning back. He watched her disappear behind the table and then he sat staring at the table top like a wiped-out gambler.

The car was turning around when Diana stepped…

The car was turning around when Diana stepped out of the house. It was slowly reversing into the shade under the trees. Then it just sat there, with glaring red brake lights. A green Mazda with a dark semicircle in the grimy film that covered the rear window. She went down the front steps and walked into the yard to show herself. Even so, nothing happened. What if she doesn’t recognise me? Or it’s not her?

The next moment, the door swung open.

The person climbing out of the car was sickly pale. And skinny. Her collarbones were sharply etched and her clothes baggy. She wore a frayed denim shirt with a thin top underneath. No bra. She stopped. Stood there with a plastic carrier bag hooked onto her fingers. The same angular face, just emaciated. The same glasses. Something had changed around her mouth.

‘I’m sorry I went inside. I just really needed to pee.’

Susso didn’t speak; she just stood there.