They arrange to meet at eight the next day and then the Byle family set off toward their car, leaving a shivering Karen to wait in the cold. She glances up at the church doors again; the last parishioners are leaving now, carefully negotiating the slippery stone steps. Some stop to chat while others walk briskly toward the car park. She smilingly watches the old men who reflexively doff their caps when they pass the large juniper tree at the edge of the church grounds. Paying their respects to the gnarled conifer with it healing powers and magical properties, as required by their old-fashioned upbringing is a dying custom that has probably been temporarily resuscitated by the solemnity of the moment. The men are most likely unaware of the church’s futile attempts to root out all the pre-Christian traditions linked to the prickly indigenous bush.

Noorö tradition dictates that the dead person’s closest relatives be the last to leave the church after a funeral service; Karen looks on as William Tryste and his family are followed out of the open oak doors by Gabriel Stuub, pale and squinting in the light, to the sound of the mournful organ. Gabriel gazes out at the lingering funeral guests and stiffens when he spots Karen. Then he hurries down the steps and strides off toward the car park without turning around.

Last out is Gertrud Stuub, lightly supported by Erling Arve. They pause at the bottom of the church steps while Arve looks around. Then he nods at Karen and squeezes Gertrud’s arm before parting ways with her. Karen watches the forlorn-looking woman in her black wool coat and beret slowly walk away and feels a pang of guilt. Maybe her request for a chat with Arve has robbed Gertrud of sorely needed company. She asks him straight out after exchanging greetings.

‘Not to worry,’ he replies with a reassuring smile. ‘Gertrud wanted some time alone.’

‘Are you sure? Because this will certainly keep until tomorrow.’

‘There’s no need. I’ll be checking on Gertrud tonight. Truth be told, as soon as you and I are done, I’m driving straight to the Thorsvik mall to buy an electric screwdriver. They’re on sale.’

He seems amused by Karen’s surprised look.

‘After I change my clothes, of course,’ he says with a smile. ‘This thing tends to get in the way at the petrol pump,’ he adds, pointing to his large white ruff. ‘But why don’t we go over to the rectory and talk more there?’