He added, ‘We had great times together but they’re in the past.’ He smiled courteously, his voice dropping. ‘Sorry I put off this conversation but I had things to arrange. I’m afraid I have to ask you to move out, Hannah.’

Thrown that he was speaking her lines she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘What about Hannah Anna Butik?’

Sardonic amusement filled his eyes. ‘Interesting that it’s the shop that’s your first concern. Not me. Not us.’

Blood raced to her face. ‘Sorry – I …’ She swallowed. ‘I was going to raise the same subject but you took me by surprise. And,’ she added, her eyes prickling, ‘it’s sad, after almost two years.’

‘Let’s sit down.’ He didn’t look sad as he took his customary armchair and she dropped down onto the sofa. Whatever she’d thought would happen when she faced Albin, it wasn’t that he’d get in first. He leaned forward, holding her gaze. ‘We moved from “fling” to “relationship” and, like letting you hang your red towels in my bathroom, by the time I acknowledged that it wasn’t for me, I’d let it happen.’

Hannah was stung. ‘I didn’t know I was ever a “fling”,’ she said stiffly. ‘But this is your family’s apartment so, of course, I’ll move out. I’ll just need time. I don’t think I can live at the shop so I’ll try and find someone who’s looking to share.’

Albin’s dark eyes narrowed. He sighed. ‘Hannah,’ he said politely. ‘Your shop isn’t working either.’

Instantly, she fired up. ‘My takings are on a great trajectory!’

‘A Christmas shopping spike, nothing else. Your shop was never in the right place. Köpmangatan is neither Stortorget nor Österlånggatan, but the road between the two.’

‘I couldn’t afford Stortorget or Österlånggatan, as you know, and Köpmangatan’s fine. My upscale shop fits well with the antique shops and art galleries. It gets tourist footfall. It fits my economic landscape. If it’s so crap, why did you sign the lease?’

He shrugged. ‘It was what you wanted and – at the time – I wanted you. I was infatuated.’ He sounded sheepish, as if he’d said, ‘I was drunk.’

Hannah’s hands hadn’t warmed up from the journey from the airport and she clasped them between her knees. Albin was being implacable. Cold. Calculating. Reeling from the unexpectedness of finding her shop under attack, she was arguing from a position of weakness and had to fight to keep her voice from wobbling. ‘I can live on the takings if I have time to organise myself.’

Calmly, he rose to pour them each a glass of malt whisky, glittering like liquid amber in the beam of his reading lamp as he sat down again. He said quietly, but inexorably, ‘I’ll be doing something else with the property.’