Hannah congratulated her and they collected their things for the boring business of disembarkation. Clearing passports was slowed by the processing of Nico’s permission to travel with Maria. He answered questions easily and politely and Maria, clinging round his neck, demonstrated the warmth of their relationship by giving his cheek a big kiss with a loudly enthusiastic, ‘Mmmmwah!’

The passport control officer almost smiled as she waved them through.

Baggage reclaimed, Hannah entertained the girls by blowing white clouds into the bitingly cold air, pretending they were dragons while Nico picked up their rental car, trying to tune in to the rhythms of the Swedish being spoken around her. Eventually they were on the road to Älgäng. It looked as if Sweden was enjoying a really wintry winter. Snow made the roadside banks into marshmallow mounds and rivulets had frozen into icicles on vertical rock faces. The road cut through the whitened forest and the miles of fencing prevented elk from straying into the paths of cars.

Although Lars’s house was in Nässjö, Nico drove first to the A6 shopping mall and bought the girls snowsuits. Maria’s was splashed with purple daisies to go with her purple boots. She giggled at the process of sliding her legs into it and looked at Nico questioningly. ‘Coat?’

‘Snowsuit,’ Nico said.

Maria erupted in har, har, hars and did a little dance, as if to check her padded legs still worked OK. ‘Snowsuit, Yozee!’

Josie rolled her eyes. ‘Mum got you one last winter, Maria. You grew out of it.’ But last winter was, obviously, almost half a lifetime ago to a two-year-old.

They arrived at Nico’s mum’s small house in nearby Älgäng for a late lunch. Carina’s was a traditional Swedish house, rust-red and white, the changing pitch of its roof sitting on the building like a bonnet, its corner plot sheltered by towering pines. White lights and illuminated stars glowed from every window and along the verandah. A tomte with a grey hat and long white beard, the house gnome of Swedish folklore, guarded the door.

Carina appeared as the car pulled into the drive between rough mounds of cleared snow. She was tall and her short hair was much darker than Nico’s. Her eyes were dark, too, sparkling as she bombarded her son and granddaughter with cuddles. Her English was more accented than Nico’s but still quick and idiomatic as she greeted Hannah warmly, welcoming her to Småland with a hug. Then she crouched down to Maria’s level. ‘Hej, stumpan.’

Josie said, ‘Farmor, this is Maria. Maria, say hello to Farmor.’ She obviously didn’t see anything tricky about whether Maria was entitled to claim Carina as a grandma or, literally, ‘father mother’.

Maria smiled shyly. ‘’Ullo, Farmor.’