Autumn seemed to have decided not to bother this year and winter had swept in as if from Narnia. Iron-hard frosts stripped the colour from the landscape, bleak but beautiful, but the ruthless removal of Hannah from her life in Sweden made her feel as if she were seeing it through a dirty window. Her two big suitcases were in the spare room, cramped by the jumble Nan collected between village hall sales. Mo and Jeremy had rumbled off in The Bus the day after Hannah arrived. They’d offered to put off their departure because Nan, sporting a plaster cast that looked too heavy for her twiggy arm, was grey with the shock of her injury.

‘The Eurotunnel and your first two camping grounds in France are booked,’ Hannah had argued. ‘I’ll take Nan to appointments and shopping. You two clear off on the retirement trip you’ve been planning for years.’

Mo had given her a cuddle. ‘But you won’t dwell on Albin’s cold treachery, will you? Keep busy, see your old mates. Visit The Three Fishes and The Angel Café.’

‘I will.’ Hannah gratefully accepted the use of Mo’s old white Volvo and, finally, waved off the pea-soup-coloured bus.

Soon, Mo and Jeremy were travelling down the east side of France to a campground in Strasbourg’s urban natural park, where the city of Strasbourg was almost on the doorstep. Rob and Leesa were halfway through their honeymoon in Goa. Excepting Nan, the family members who usually lived here were away while Hannah, who usually lived away, was here. She shopped, prepared meals and, late on Wednesday afternoon, took the jumble to village hall stalwart Carola so she had room to unpack.

When she hurried home through the yellow door into the warm kitchen she actually managed a smile because Nan exclaimed, ‘Hello, honey bunny!’ as if Hannah were still a child. Nan added, with a flash of her old self, ‘How about we enjoy being single and go to the pub?’

Hannah giggled, enjoying this sign that her grandmother might be getting used to her injury as well as the loss of Brett. ‘Let’s. I’d love a big, fat pint of Ruddles County.’

Nan pulled a face. ‘I’d be up peeing all night if I drank that. A nice glass of chardonnay will do for me. And maybe a salad.’

They huddled into their coats and, heads ducked into a bitter wind, staggered at Nan’s stuttering, stick-step pace up Main Road to The Three Fishes. Last year, it had undergone a facelift after long-time landlord Harrison Tubb had retired with one-time barmaid Janice and passed the pub to Ferdy and Elvis. Hannah was still getting used to The Three Fishes without ‘Tubb from the pub’ behind the bar.