‘All the Swedish animals like elk and wolves, lynx and bears,’ Carina agreed, gently staying Josie’s movements in case it joggled her plate from her lap.

Not quite able to believe this opportunity to chase Albin down Hannah said, ‘But will it be OK to leave Lars?’

‘We’ll only miss Tuesday because we’ll be back in time for Wednesday-evening visiting and then Lars will come out of hospital on Thursday,’ Carina said. ‘Mattias will see his father on Tuesday, I’m sure.’

‘Of course,’ said Mattias, woodenly. ‘But we have to leave now. Work tomorrow.’

Carina looked surprised. ‘It’s not even nine o’clock—’

But Mattias was already fetching their coats and bidding everyone goodnight without offering hugs or giving Felicia time to do so.

Nico jumped up and followed them to the door but soon returned wearing a baffled expression. Carina, too, looked surprised. ‘Have I offended him?’ Nico asked her in Swedish, presumably so Josie didn’t ask a load of questions.

Carina shrugged. ‘He’s been tense lately. Probably it’s a reaction to your father’s illness.’

They spent Monday morning helping Carina and her choir clear up after the Lucia service. White and gold festive flower arrangements remained in place but a couple of hundred people dropped a surprising amount of tissues and sweet papers. In the afternoon they drove into the snowy forest, which had the happy consequence of sending Maria to sleep, making her fresh for the evening ice hockey.

It was Hannah’s first live match, sitting up on the tiered rows by the halfway line. ‘These are great seats!’ Nico enthused, eyes darting about as if trying to absorb every detail of the brightly lit and colourful rink. HV71 was the local team and Nico was a lifelong fan. Josie was happy because there would be hotdogs and Maria was happy because the stiff programme, folded like a fan and banged on her leg with gusto, made a sound like loud applause.

Josie, however, forgot hotdogs the moment the players burst out of the tunnel in a shower of fireworks and was literally on the edge of her seat. ‘Goal!’ she yelled, arms aloft. ‘No, no goal. Nearly a goal, eh, Dad? Ooooooooh, that man banged into the other man!’

‘Enthusiastic defence,’ Nico explained economically, craning to watch a forward flying up the rink as opposing defence men swarmed to block him.

‘Owwwww!’ protested Josie, as a back smashed the forward into the boards. ‘You didn’t used to smoosh people against the side like that when you played, did you, Dad?’

‘Wellllll …’ Nico coloured.

The ‘smooshed’ player shoved the enthusiastic defender, who shoved back and added a few short jabs of his stick for emphasis and the referee blew a foul. ‘You didn’t get in fights, did you Dad? You didn’t bang into people or sorry-not-sorry trip them up? You never got put in the penalty box, Dad? It’s like a naughty seat!’