As a child, the farm had looked imposing to Karen, almost like a mansion, with its detached wings and unusual red roofs. Driving up to them now, she realises several of the roof tiles are missing and a number of broken ones are stacked next to the water barrel by the corner of the main house. And there’s nothing mansion-like about the root cellar with its grass roof, the outbuildings, the henhouse, the barn or the sloping plot. And then there’s Skalvet, looming up ominously behind it all, like an impenetrable wall against the sea beyond. She never liked the mountains, not even as a child, especially not during thunderstorms. And looking up at them now, she realises she still finds that monumental immovability unsettling.

She already regrets coming . . .

Just then, the front door is thrown open and before Karen has made it halfway up the driveway, a large German shepherd is racing toward her, barking loudly. Without thinking, she sinks into a squat.

‘Calm down, Heisick,’ she says, realising her mistake the moment the words leave her lips.

Of course it’s not Heisick. He would be forty by now.

The voice from the house is like the crack of a whip.

‘Lie down!’

The big dog obeys instantly, lowering itself onto its belly with its head pushed forward. It growls deep in its throat with its eyes fixed on her. Karen gets up slowly, her heart pounding, watching those bared teeth out of the corner of her eye, careful not to stare the amped-up shepherd in the eyes.

‘What do you want?’

The voice from the house sounds suspicious and hostile. And unmistakeably familiar.

Karen, who has pushed herself back up, momentarily takes her eyes off the dog and squints up at the house. The man standing in the doorway has one hand on the door and is using the other to shield his eyes from the powerful light above it. In the window next to the entrance she can just about make out the outline of another person who seems to be taking an interest in the goings-on outside.

Karen hesitates. If she shouts back, she risks setting off the dog. The shadow in the window disappears. Moments later, the man is pushed aside and a gruff woman’s voice barks, ‘Get out of the way, Lars, don’t you see who it is? Come here, Jacko! My goodness, Karen, dear, is it really you?’

*

A few minutes later, Jacko has slouched away and Karen has been embraced by strong arms and ushered into the kitchen.

‘How long are you staying? Why didn’t you call first? I would have made you dinner. My goodness, it’s lovely to see you.’