Angry that he was so keen to brush her off, Hannah nevertheless thanked him politely, retrieved her coat from the rack and tamped down rising disappointment as he stood back politely to allow her before him up the stairs. At street level, the cold evening air pinched her ears.

They tramped together to Vasabron, passing through the massive arch of the graceful stone parliament buildings. Crossing the bridge, they huddled into their coats as the lights of the city danced on the icy black water below. He paused. ‘I’m heading to Central Station. I hope everything’s OK with your mum.’

‘Thanks. And thanks for dinner.’ She barely broke stride as she swung right onto her favourite route to Östermalm through Kungsträdgården without slowing to watch the ice skaters on the public rink and barely noticing the green illuminated NK sign revolving above the posh department store of the same name. The wind was icy and she felt as if she could taste snow on it as she trudged through the brightly lit, busy streets.

Albin’s words echoed in her head, feeling truer by the stride. There’s nothing left for you in Stockholm.

He was home when she got there, eating salad and watching the international news on the kitchen TV. He looked irritated to see her. She felt annoyed to see him. She went to the spare room without hanging up her coat. In moments she’d connected a FaceTime call to her mum and was looking at her round face, currently uncharacteristically crumpled and fed up. ‘Is everything OK?’

Mo sighed. ‘Sorry if I worried you. We’ve just got Nan home. She’s fallen and broken her wrist. She’s here with us for now. It’s her right wrist, of course, so she’s all of a do-dah trying to do things with her left hand.’ She checked behind her, as if for eavesdroppers. ‘She’s upset.’

Hannah smoothed back her hair, feeling wobbly at the thought of poor Nan’s plight. ‘Because she’s in pain?’

‘No. Well, yes. But it’s not that.’ Mo’s eyebrows tilted forlornly. ‘It means we can’t go off in The Bus on Saturday, as planned. Dad’s so disappointed and he’s trying not to show it. Nan’s blaming herself and getting teary.’

‘But she couldn’t help falling,’ Hannah protested.

Mo propped her head on her fist. ‘Sort of, she could. Dad said he’d get her Christmas decorations down from her loft before we left but she tried it herself. Lucky she was only a few feet up! It could have been her neck.’ She rubbed her nose drearily. ‘Obviously, we can’t leave her to fend for herself one-handed at her age, now Brett’s not around. So we’ll have to put off our trip till spring.’ Threatening tears thickened her voice.