Karen bites into a saffron biscuit and licks a few stray crumbs from the corner of her mouth. She would have preferred to go straight for the apple turnover, but doesn’t want to risk aggravating Ingeborg. You always eat everything you’re served. And you don’t ask the wrong questions. But the inadequacies of the Tryste family seem a safe enough topic.

‘What kind of music was it? That William’s mother left her husband to face, I mean?’

‘The mining crisis, of course. Poor Ivar was the grandchild of Old Huss and was expected to take over when the old man died. But when they discovered oil, that was the end of mining subsidies and then there were the strikes. They lost everything in just a few years. All they have left now is the land, but apparently that’s enough to justify putting on airs.’

Karen thinks back to her meetings with William Tryste and Gertrud Stuub. An enthusiastic whiskey connoisseur and a deeply religious woman mourning her brother. And Gabriel Stuub, a hungover motorcyclist working in a warehouse. She certainly hasn’t detected any airs in Old Huss’s descendants so far. Her aunt’s antipathy is clearly based on things that happened a long time ago, in previous generations, she concludes. And as though she can read Karen’s mind, Ingeborg continues.

‘Oh no, lambkin, that family’s not so fancy if you bother to take a closer look. They’ve got shit in their arses, too, as the old saying goes. And I could tell you a thing or two to knock them off their high horses, if I wanted to . . .’

‘Please, do,’ Karen says quickly and is rewarded with a sharp look. ‘I’m just trying to form a picture of all the people involved and their backgrounds, and there’s no telling what might turn out to be useful. I figured you’re probably the one who knows the most about all of this,’ she adds.

Another sharp look lets her know her aunt isn’t fooled by her flattery. A moment later, Ingeborg Eiken takes a deep breath, lets out a long sigh and continues.

‘Well, I can’t say I really know anything, and my father never wanted to speak about what he saw, not outside the four walls of his home, at any rate, but I heard him talk to Mother about it more than once.’

‘What? Come on! I want to know everything.’

Ingeborg seems to hesitate briefly. Then her eyes flash.

‘Father suspected Old Huss of doing business with the Germans during the war. He’d apparently seen something when he was out on the boat, or so he said. But he kept quiet about it, took it to his grave.’

Karen gives her aunt an incredulous look.

‘How come? Grandpa hated the Nazis.’