‘Nico’s split up, hasn’t he?’ Mo demanded.

Although Hannah knew full well her mum meant Nico was divorced, the phrase made her visualise him in pieces. Metaphorically he had been, if his wife becoming pregnant by another man had triggered the eating problems that had winnowed the flesh from his cheeks and turned his neck and hands to cords and bones. ‘I think it happened two or three years ago. His ex has another daughter,’ she answered. Then she thought maybe Nico wouldn’t appreciate being part of Mo’s avid interest in the lives of others. ‘I’ll send you photos of what Nico did to the shop.’ She paused to WhatsApp the pictures from her phone.

‘Ooh, lovely,’ Hannah’s mum breathed when the colourful images popped up on her own phone moments later. ‘Rob said Nico works in promo. I’d have expected him to be doing something to do with ice hockey. Some hockey players in America are millionaires.’

‘I didn’t even ask him about ice hockey.’ And neither had he volunteered any information, Hannah realised, which was a far cry from when he’d lived and breathed the sport. She shrugged. ‘I suppose making it as a pro player’s mega competitive.’ She changed the subject. ‘Is Nan OK? I rang her early in the week and I thought she was quiet.’

Mo gave a gusty sigh. ‘She and Brett have fallen out. She says she “doesn’t want to go into it” but she’s obviously unhappy.’

‘No!’ Hannah breathed. ‘I thought they were a fixture.’ Hannah barely remembered her grandfather, who’d died when she was small.

‘Something’s changed,’ Mo confirmed sadly. ‘I thought he’d be here for her while we were away so it’s bad news all round.’

They said goodnight a few minutes later and Hannah got ready for bed worrying about her indomitable little grandmother. She knew Nan wouldn’t want her parents to miss their trip of a lifetime but couldn’t somehow imagine her mum staying away for the weeks and months currently planned if Nan didn’t have Brett’s company and support.

By the time Albin finally arrived home it was past ten and she was more than half-asleep in their six-foot bed. He padded into the bedroom, flicked back his curtains of dark hair, kissed her temple and whispered, ‘Don’t wake up, I’m going to have a drink and unwind in front of the TV. I don’t have to be in until eleven tomorrow.’ She made a drowsy noise of agreement.