The display cabinet is crammed with medals, plaques and cups, mostly for wrestling, although there are a few from various school championships in different sports from the mid-’80s. Beside the cabinet there is a display of pictures – young men in wrestling gear and hockey strips. Alexander is in every one; he was very good-looking back then. He is almost always smiling, gazing confidently into the camera – except for the last photograph, in which he seems distracted, not really present. Anna looks at the date: 1991. The year after Simon’s death. The year before he injured himself and missed out on the Olympics.

The box of LPs beneath the stereo contains nothing but ’80s rock – Bon Jovi, Europe, Bryan Adams, Iron Maiden, AC/DC.

In one corner of the room she finds a framed collage of images – young men and women dressed in white, with their student caps. Signs proclaiming HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION 1990, enlarged baby pictures, miniature champagne bottles, garlands of flowers. Dazzling, perfect smiles, sparkling eyes. Even though the occasion was almost thirty years ago, she can almost hear them singing the traditional songs at the tops of their voices.

One of the pictures is slightly bigger than the others: Alexander Morell in a dinner jacket, with his arm around the waist of a curvaceous woman in a low-cut dress, with curly blonde hair. Anna assumes it was taken at the graduation ball, and guesses that the woman is Alex’s girlfriend – maybe even the mother of his two girls?

In the bottom right-hand corner there is a group photo: three boys and two girls, all in their white student clothes and peaked caps, arms around one another, seemingly roaring at the camera.

FRIENDS FOREVER, it says in one of those stuck-on speech bubbles that was popular at the time.

Anna immediately recognises Alex and his blonde companion; the shorter boy beside him must be Bruno Sordi. A tall girl with curly hair and an elongated face is on the other side of Bruno. There is no mistaking Marie Andersson, now Sordi, though she isn’t wearing glasses, and looks considerably more cheerful than she does nowadays. On the far left is a young man with shoulder-length fair hair. He is pale, his skin seems almost transparent, but his eyes are bright and lively, and he looks happy. This must be Simon Vidje.

‘There you are!’

Alex is in the doorway with a drink in each hand. His tone and expression are largely amused, but there is the tiniest frown between his eyebrows.

‘I saw the display . . .’ she pauses to avoid the stammer, ‘cabinet from the hallway. Impressive!’

He relaxes, hands her a glass.

‘I must have told Mum and Dad a hundred times to put everything away and convert this place into a guest room. I think Mum likes the idea, but Dad refuses. He wants everything to stay exactly the same as it’s always been. Time travel straight back into the ’80s . . .’