‘I’m not sure,’ he replies, although his body language tells another story. ‘Joss was the one who wanted a divorce.’ He looks away. ‘We do our best to get along, for the sake of the girls – but it’s hard. Are you and Håkan still friends?’

‘We were. He died a year ago from li . . . liv . . .’

Alex has that look on his face that so many people get when they realise she stammers – as if they’re unsure whether to keep quiet or help her to fill in the tricky word.

Alex makes the right choice, giving her time to catch her breath, change things around.

‘Cancer of the liver.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ They stand in silence for a little while, about ten metres from the main door. ‘Do you ever wish you could go back?’

‘To the time when we were married? Sometimes, yes.’

Alex shakes his head. ‘Further back. Before marriage and a mortgage and all those obligations. Before everything got so complicated.’

She senses where he’s going, and gently nudges him along.

‘I suppose everyone does from time to time. Life was pretty simple when we were teenagers. Full of possibilities.’

‘It was.’ He looks down at the ground. ‘I’d give anything to have that feeling again. To get back . . .’

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

A shiny, expensive SUV drives into the courtyard and stops directly in front of the entrance. The driver’s door opens and Caia Bianca steps out. She is immediately surrounded by fans wanting selfies. Alex straightens his shoulders and his expression changes completely. He watches Caia until she’s disappeared inside, then smiles foolishly at Anna as if he’s forgotten what they were talking about.

‘Maybe we should go in,’ she says dryly.

He nods and shoots off at such a speed that she ends up several metres behind him. She considers running to catch him up, then realises how stupid that would be. Instead, she lingers outside for a few minutes. Back inside she sees Caia over by the top table being hugged and air-kissed by Marie and Bruno Sordi, while Alex stands nearby, sheepishly waiting his turn. Caia has swapped her fake fur for a tight white dress; she clearly spends many hours in the gym, and her breasts are considerably younger than the rest of her.

Anna doesn’t quite know what to do now. Her table is gone, and there’s no sign of Call-me. People are milling about, some heading outside, others coming in, while the staff quickly and efficiently get the room ready for the dance.