The rest of the evening felt like a five-mile slog through mud.

She talked to her family and danced with old friends but her insides seemed caked in ice. When she looked for Nico again both he and Amanda Louise had gone.

Hannah went to bed at two, carrying her shoes. In her room, her zip stuck again and she yanked at the fabric until, uncaring, she heard it rip. She was pretty certain she’d never wear the jumpsuit again.

Though exhausted, she tossed and turned. It felt unbelievable that a warm, smiling Nico had quit the room and a granite-faced Nico had returned, specifically to ignore Hannah, it seemed.

Eventually she slept fitfully, plagued by dreams of a stern-faced Albin helping her fit a bed in the shop and telling her she lived there now while Nico danced with Amanda Louise outside in the street. She was glad to rise at eight, having promised to meet Nan, who didn’t want to broach the hotel dining room alone and said late breakfasts got on her nerves.

Other wedding guests were in the dining room, looking different without their glad rags, but no one from the family. Mo and Jeremy were probably still recovering and Rob and Leesa should already have been whisked off by limo for their honeymoon in Goa. Hannah sent a lightning glance around the dining room but there was no sign of Nico.

A waiter showed them to a table with cane-backed chairs and a white cloth then fetched hot tea while Nan slathered a thick slice of toast with double strawberry jam and Hannah helped herself to eggs and bacon. ‘That boy Nico,’ said Nan, licking jam from her thumb. ‘He’s looking after his ex-wife’s little girl.’

Hannah cut into her egg and watched yolk pooling on the plate with a waning appetite. ‘I know.’

Nan sipped tea from the hotel’s elegant white porcelain cup. ‘Private fostering or kinship, it’s called, when kids end up being looked after by uncles and aunts or family friends. Shame for the kiddie but she’s fallen on her feet with that Nico. Compassionate man.’

Hannah nodded.

Amanda Louise arrived with a group of friends, smiling and nodding politely to Hannah and Nan.

‘So,’ challenged one of the friends as they settled at a nearby table. ‘What happened? I saw you smooching with him. Snagged and shagged?’

Hannah’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to know the answer but she could neither blame Amanda Louise for fixing her sights on Nico or Nico for taking advantage. Last night she’d dared to hope that a single life might lend itself to seeing Nico on his visits to Stockholm but if tall, striking Amanda Louise had given him the green light it would explain his suddenly turned cold shoulder.