Rob had once asked her whether she’d fallen more for Albin’s lifestyle than the man himself. She’d denied it hotly. She’d have found him attractive without the swanky apartment with use of the gorgeous courtyard where they ate in summer, the restaurant on every corner, the wherewithal to grocery shop at ICA Esplanaden. Hannah might be ambitious but that was about her own achievements. It wasn’t about snaffling a wealthy man. Suits and haircuts were just suits and haircuts, even the expensive kind.

Now she was having to acknowledge that maybe Rob had seen something she’d been unable to see because the painful truth was that Albin had lost interest in her. She could parade around naked without distracting him from a text conversation. It smarted, but it was high time, in Hannah’s opinion, to face the situation. And part of that was that she wasn’t heartbroken. It had only been infatuation all along.

After kicking her boots into the hall cupboard she made steaming hot chocolate and went to luxuriate for half an hour in the main bathroom, which had a spa bath and the ruby red towels she’d hung in here in defiance of the apartment’s colour scheme, making Albin snap, ‘I’ll only accept it because I prefer the en suite shower room so don’t have to look at them.’

She closed her eyes while the hot water roiled about her body. It was like being pummelled by a boxer wearing soft fluffy gloves. She didn’t envy Albin creeping through damp forests to destroy beautiful animals. At least he never insisted she join him on his blokey hunting trips.

Her mind wandered to Nico: first the scruffy, haggard Nico and then the cleaned-up, shaven version who’d paced her shop, observing it through narrowed eyes before changing everything. Her stock had looked so beautiful, so stylish. Mary Poppins would have been proud of the transformation.

Funny, but meeting a Swede in Sweden was making her think vividly of England, of Nico hanging out at their house in Middledip, smiling and good mannered enough to charm Hannah’s parents and grandmother, treating Hannah as a special – if younger – friend, much to the envy of the older girls who hung around the rink.

When Hannah finally emerged from the swirling bathwater she slid into a robe and opened her laptop to FaceTime her parents, Mo and Jeremy Goodbody.

When Mo appeared on the screen she beamed all over her round, good-natured face, as delighted to hear from her as if Hannah hadn’t contacted them for months. ‘Can’t wait for you to come home for the wedding, Han! Port Manor Hotel’s doing Rob and Leesa proud. You’ll be here for the rehearsal on Thursday evening won’t you?’