In addition to the smell of starchy rice water burning, she is greeted by a fragrant mix of garlic, thyme and lamb. She quickly takes the wildly bubbling pot off the burner and turns down the heat. Lifts the lid off the other pot and stirs the stew to make sure nothing is burning or sticking. Then she turns around and studies the kitchen table with a sigh. Whoever had the ambition to lay the table for some reason changed their mind halfway through the process. A stack of plates is sitting at one end of the table, crowned by a pile of cutlery, but the crumbs from breakfast are still scattered across the rest of it.

Sigrid, she thinks and opens one of the kitchen cabinets. She reaches for the everyday glasses but changes her mind and looks up at the top shelf. Red wine. You can’t have lamb stew without red wine.

‘Sorry, but Hanne from the club texted and then I forgot . . .’

Sigrid has apparently roused herself from her phone-induced stupor and followed her to the kitchen. Instead of finishing her sentence, she starts to set out plates, knives and forks.

‘Fine, but no wine for people who neglect their chores,’ Karen says without turning around. ‘That’s the rule, you know. Who the fuck put the glasses up there where no one can reach them?’ she adds, pushing up on tiptoe.

Sigrid is staring at her back with a look on her face like she has just found out the last of the polar ice caps melted.

‘She’s kidding. Just play along and pretend she’s funny.’

Leo has joined them and moves in behind Karen. Tightly pressed against her back, he casually takes the glasses down, puts them aside and leans forward with both hands on the counter and his chin on her shoulder.

He knows she’s smiling. Knows Sigrid is rolling her eyes behind them.

‘Which wine would you like?’ he says with his lips against Karen’s right ear.

‘I’ll get it,’ she says pointedly and wriggles out of his embrace.

Leo has been going through her wine collection like an indiscriminate bulldozer, and she’s not about to waste the few bottles of Brouilly she has left on a regular Thursday.

She’s halfway down the basement stairs when there’s a buzzing in her back pocket. She freezes mid-step. One glance at the screen and her heart is racing. This is the call she has been waiting for with a mixture of dread and anticipation for two weeks.

The call she has been waiting for ever since she decided to put it all on the line.

*