Sure enough, she turned the corner onto the main street and saw a mass of Stockholmers and tourists disgorging into the square, suitcases being wheeled along the boardwalks to the grand Yacht Hotel or towards boats, bare legs flashing, flip-flops slapping. The place was heaving, a flotilla of sleek, high-masted yachts moored in the deeper waters offshore, the marina already crammed with day-trip speedboats and smaller sailing vessels whose rigging laced the sky like spiders’ webs. A small, rather tatty-looking cabin boat was chugging through the sound towards what appeared to be the only empty berth, its underpowered engine causing barely a ripple of wake behind it.

She headed to the bakery and stocked up on pastries for breakfast for everyone tomorrow, and crispbreads; then on to Westerbergs, the general store that was the focus of island life – food was bought there, services advertised, news exchanged and shared. The place had everything, from batteries to plants; bags of compost were piled up by the steps, potted geraniums and bright watering cans beside them. She caught sight of one of the delivery trikes standing inert in the shade – a rare sight; Kris called them the unicorns. It was sky blue, with rust patches, and had been fitted with a large wooden tray to the front that could take everything from shopping to suitcases. This particular one had also been fitted with an electric motor. There was a problem, though – they couldn’t be pre-booked. It was first come, first served. She’d need to be quick!

She jogged in. The bright, functional arrangement of the stacked shelves was always somehow a surprise, with trays of glossy fruit and vegetables set out like colour-coded Lego bricks. The shop was busy, but no customers were at the till, although the shelves were looking alarmingly scant, as though everyone had already stocked up for their Midsommar parties. Obviously she could ask the others to bring what else they needed from the city, but she would do her best here first. She scooped up two baskets and, with the speed of a seasoned local, quickly filled it with some milk and cereal, pasta, herrings, potatoes, cream, sugar, two punnets of strawberries, some twine and several loops of picture wire. She needed beer, too, but it was impossible to carry with a basket in each hand.

‘I’ve just got to get some beers too,’ she said to the till operator, setting it all down carefully. Someone else was doing the same at the other till, but he had almost nothing in his basket; a small cardboard box would take his shopping. She ran back to the alcohol aisle. There had been three six-packs left of Evil Twin, Kris’s favourite. She had come in for two, but the sight of ‘only’ three put her into panic mode, so she took them all.

The girl at the till was already scanning the barcodes and packing everything into a box for her. ‘And can I hire the bike outside, please?’ Bell said breathlessly, as she set the bottles down and pulled out her bank card.