And then there’s her damn knee. A constantly aching reminder of what happened, and what could have happened. Karen shifts her weight onto her right leg and feels a stab of pain in her hip. Over two months ago now, and still it’s not back to normal. Four weeks at Thystedt Hospital and then rehab at home. Painful visits to the physiotherapist in Dunker three times a week. She has meekly done everything they’ve told her to, all the exercises, twice a day. And still she can’t put weight on her left leg for more than a few minutes at a time. It’s a strain, having to conceal the truth from the people sitting in the warm kitchen behind her, having to keep up appearances, to conceal the constant ache, to choose between yet another round of painkillers or a snaps with her herring, to keep the fake smile on her face: no, it doesn’t hurt at all anymore, I’m just a bit stiff still. To pretend not to notice her mother’s suspicious looks.

She is on sick leave until Twelfth Night, so just twelve more days, trapped in her house with far too many thoughts. She’s going back to work the moment the holidays are over, even if she has to crawl there. At least she has managed to persuade her doctor not to extend her sick leave. If nothing else, I’m a good liar, she muses.

For a moment or two, the din grows louder as the door opens and then closes again, slightly too hard, making the kitchen window rattle. She knows it’s Leo without turning around. She sees the flame of his lighter out of the corner of her eye, hears him inhale deeply, hold the smoke in his lungs for a second and exhale. He holds out his packet and she bums a cigarette.

‘It’ll all be over eventually,’ he says. ‘You have to cling to that thought.’

Am I that easy to read? she wonders inwardly. I thought I had a pretty good poker face.

‘How philosophical of you,’ she mutters. ‘Any other words of wisdom for me?’

‘Alcohol helps, obviously. And isn’t drinking and knowing it’ll be over eventually what Christmas is all about?’ he replies with a grin.

She briefly meets his eyes and tries to stop herself from smiling.

‘Well, you should know,’ she replies drily. ‘Was it alcohol and knowing it would all be over eventually that sustained you when you were living under that loading dock?’

‘It certainly wasn’t women and song.’

They continue to smoke in silence. Karen turns her head and notices that Eirik and Marike have started to clear the table, while Harry is using the unwashed pot to refill the coffee maker. She sighs.

‘He’s a good one,’ Leo comments, ‘your new stepdad.’

It stings when she snorts out smoke.

‘Stepdad! Oh, come off it . . .’