Nico swallowed back the swear word on his lips. He’d left the phone on top of the cistern while he’d daydreamed about how much he missed Hannah after spending this last week with her and wondering when to reveal their altered status to Josie. ‘We don’t wash phones, sweetheart. It breaks them,’ he told Maria ruefully, retrieving his property and regarding the unresponsive screen. He knew the trick to drying out phones by sticking them in a packet of dry rice but he had to wait until the girls were dressed and the Tesco delivery – without rice – had arrived before they could buy some at the village shop, Josie in one of her talk-a-mile-a-minute moods and Maria yanking on her walking rein like a disobedient puppy. By the time they reached home again it was lunchtime. He sealed the phone in the rice without a great deal of hope it would fix it then made scrambled eggs, trying to be calm and cheerful as parents are meant to be.

Without a working phone he couldn’t check how Lars was doing. Neither could he contact Hannah to say he’d decided to give the girls lunch at home rather than undergo Posh Nosh with the girls clamouring for sugary treats that would make them hyper, a stress he didn’t need even if accompanied by piped Christmas carols.

He’d just finished washing up when a crescendo of bumps followed by howls sent him racing into the hall to find Maria at the foot of the stairs, nose pouring scarlet blood. Heart banging, he swooped her up and she clung to him. ‘Oh, baby girl, your poor little nose,’ he crooned, hurrying to soak kitchen towel in cold water to staunch the bleeding. At ice hockey they’d always pressed the cold towel to the bridge but Maria’s was such a button nose that he could only aim for the whole thing.

‘Nooooooo, noooooooo,’ she wailed, snatching her head from side to side and smearing his cream sweatshirt with blood. It took a long time for her to calm down while he soothed her against his shoulder, Josie saying, ‘Aw, poor Maria,’ and stroking her sister’s leg. He was wondering whether he should try and rock the toddler into a catnap, a well-known antidote to a biffed nose, when Josie gave a strangled gasp.

‘Uh, uh—’ Then, in a shriek, ‘MUMMEE!’

Stomach dropping, Nico swung around still wearing Maria around his neck.

Josie had run to the window and was waving, dancing, beaming and laughing.

And through the glass he saw Vivvi and Loren coming up the short drive, clutching their coats close around them, Vivvi’s car parked in the lane across the gateway as if to prevent him escaping.