The men didn’t sniffle, one by one they shook Magnus by the hand in that heartfelt yet shamefaced silence that a man struggles to maintain when he knows he has something fundamental to be thankful for, such as his life.

Ingrid also wanted to say thank you, to Anja and the children, for without them she wouldn’t have made it here, which of course wasn’t anything to be thankful for, and was gripped by a new bout of panic, she snatched at Henriksen’s keys, called to Anja and nodded to the two men standing at his side.

Henriksen asked why she was interfering and went on to study first the family, then the two sets of papers, for there were a few things wrong here, Finns and Lapps should be kept separate from Norwegians.

Anja yelled that she was a person of fixed abode, not a nomad, she was a farmer’s wife. Henriksen laughed once again, and looked around for support. Magnus didn’t laugh, he said:

“Well, they’re well and truly mixed now, after this trip.”

Ingrid, Anja and the children walked up towards the village accompanied by the men, the mothers with the babies and two young orphaned girls, who were dragging a shared cloth sack, past the store, where Margot and two others stood outside in the winter cold watching them. Margot caught sight of Ingrid and waved. Ingrid waved back. She didn’t see any soldiers, nor any military vehicles, the camp was as deserted as the rectory.

“Now you’re going to get a decent house to live in,” she said feverishly, as she unlocked the rectory door and told the two men to fetch wood and coke and get the fire going in all the stoves, walked from room to room with her snow-covered entourage at her heels and presented all the things she still recognised, down to the smallest detail, without it causing her pain.

She also got to see the babies for the first time; throughout the journey the women had just looked pregnant, but as the temperature rose the babies were now unwrapped from their shapeless garments and had bright eyes and pink, hairless heads in their new home.

The two mothers installed themselves in their separate rooms on the first floor, where confirmands from the nearby islands used to sleep in twos. Ingrid also knew where there was a cradle in the attic. She escorted Anja to the priest’s bedroom, he didn’t usually sleep with his young wife, but still had the widest bed. She assigned the two orphaned girls to the wife’s bedroom, the bed there was wide, too; she showed them the eiderdowns and cupboards and drawers, and asked them if they had anything else with them apart from the sack, which they were still carrying between them.

They said no.

She asked if they were sisters.

One said no, the other hesitated.