Cover

Dedication

To my brother

Trevor Moorcroft

for creating The Middledip Bibles

and undertaking much of my research.

Chapter One

‘How is Rob’s stupid sister?’ The voice was deep with the slightest Swedish accent.

Hannah, who’d been gazing at towering boxes of new stock, swung around to see a tall, angular man standing in the middle of her shop, Hannah Anna Butik. His black coat was speckled white from the sleety afternoon that was Stockholm in wintry October, hood tossed back, dark blond hair messy and his eyes denim blue.

She stared. ‘Nico?’ Then he smiled and doubt fled. ‘Nico Pettersson!’ Their teen years in Cambridgeshire might be nearly two decades ago but that lopsided smile and his amusement at her and Rob referring to each other affectionately as ‘bonkers brother’ and ‘stupid sister’ hadn’t changed. Unsure whether to offer him a handshake or a hug, she settled for a beaming smile. ‘Wow, this is a nice surprise. Fancy you walking in!’

Safe from the steely chill outdoors, Nico unbuttoned his coat and pulled off his scarf. ‘You’re the only girl I’ve known called Hannah Anna. What’s the English term for those words?’

‘Palindrome.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Wacky Mum – and Dad indulging her. I was used as an example in English lessons but at least it’s cute and memorable. Hannah Anna Goodbody. Who can forget it?’

He grinned. ‘I remember your family well. They were great to me.’

‘You were Rob’s best mate,’ she said. How exotic the boy from Sweden had been, hanging out with her older brother and the Middledip village kids. Educated at an international school, Nico’s English had been good even when he’d arrived at fourteen. His dad, Lars Pettersson, had come to coach the Peterborough Pirates ice hockey team and for four years Nico had been the shining light of the Peterborough Plunderers, the junior team of which Rob was already a member. Then an athletic scholarship at Minnesota State University had called Nico to America. Hannah, who skated well enough to help out with children’s lessons, had missed seeing him fly around the rink, skates shaving the ice into glistening plumes as he checked, whirled and turned with unconscious grace. Four years his junior, she’d been old enough to wonder whether she was developing a crush on him just when he’d vanished from her life. She’d known he’d later left the US a year early and returned to Sweden to complete his degree. Then he and Rob had lost touch.

Now his gaze roved around the shelves and racks packed with colourful scarves, glossy belts and chic leather bags for the quality gift market. ‘Get you, rocking a luxury accessories shop in the Old Town. I’m impressed.’