‘Welcome home,’ Leo had said and held out a bottle of beer.

She had stared at the floor to hide the mix of panic and joy that surged through her as she took the bottle. Life would be so much easier if they weren’t there. So much quieter. ‘Welcome home . . .’ His words had been like a hockey puck to the gut.

And after dinner, Sigrid had asked the question. Would it be OK if she moved into the guest room? She’s considering going to university and if she sells the house her mother left her she won’t need to take out student loans.

‘I’ll pay rent and I’ll be studying every night. You won’t even know I’m here.’

She had just sat there, dumbstruck. And she’d seen disappointment take hold in Sigrid’s eyes as she waited for the words Karen couldn’t get out: ‘I’d be happy to have you.’

Now, Marike pushes her dress down with a sigh and turns around. She continues, ‘Like a secret lair. A refuge you can retreat to when things get overwhelming at home. An overnight flat. Here, in Dunker. Comprende?’

Karen responds with a grunt.

‘That way you can spend more time with me, too, without having to drive home after one measly glass,’ Marike continues.

‘And where am I supposed to find an overnight flat?’ Karen says gruffly. ‘Practically all the buildings in this town are co-ops these days. I don’t have the money to buy a second home. Or are you saying I should rent a studio up in Gaarda or Moerbeck?’

‘Mm, I can see it now,’ Marike says with a wicked laugh. ‘Or right here’s nice, in the harbour.’

Marike Estrup’s ceramic studio is located at the western end of the promenade, where it occupies the ground floor of an old stone building that, in its long history, has housed, in chronological order: a smithy, a sheet metal company and a shop selling boat engines and parts. Previously a dingy neighbourhood full of derelict buildings, it has recently gentrified. Karen has made a habit of borrowing the keys to the studio whenever she’s too tired or pressed for time to drive back to Langevik. The sofa bed is reasonably comfortable, and the fridge is always well stocked with gin, vermouth and olives. In the winter, the heat from the kilns is a welcome feature but in the summer you have to sleep with all the windows wide open to make it tolerable.