‘And guess what? They’re all going to be getting the same ferry back with us,’ Tove groaned.

‘Forget to take your happy pills, you two?’ Kris asked, looping his arm through his fiance’s.

‘Ugh, it’s just the Sunday blues,’ Marc groaned. ‘Why does the weekend have to pass so quickly? I want to stay out a few more days. I need to.’

‘Well, we can’t all be as lucky as Bell, getting to spend the summer here and being paid for it.’

‘Excuse me! I’d like to see you keep two three-year-olds and a ten-year-old occupied simultaneously, when there are hazards at every turn. I’m living on my nerves from the moment I leave my bed till I’m back in it again. You have no idea how hard it is.’

‘And to think in my job, I only have to keep them alive,’ Marc quipped.

‘That’s nothing. I’ve got to do that and keep them happy!’

Kris laughed. ‘I’d only know how to keep them fed, but if Tove could do “the birds and the bees” chats, vet their boyfriends, show them how not to get their drinks spiked –’ He raised his hands in the air triumphantly. ‘Between the four of us, we’d be the ideal parents.’

A table came free and they settled at it gratefully, ordering a round of beers. It wasn’t quite in full shade and they played a game of musical chairs for a few minutes as Marc and Tove fussed about the dangers of ‘being in the sun’ and kept switching seats with the others, who didn’t care.

Their drinks came quickly and they ordered what they always had here – Tove, a quiche; Bell, a burger; and the boys, large salads with steak.

Bell fussed distractedly with her dress, a flippy red gingham with fluttery short sleeves. It clashed with her yellow chequerboard Vans, but she quite liked that. Her hair was still wet from the shower but she’d piled it into her usual topknot to get it off her shoulders. She’d got a tune stuck in her head – If you can’t be with the one you love . . . – and it was beginning to drive her nuts. She didn’t even particularly like the song.

‘– don’t want anything big. Town Hall and a room at the back of a pub would do me fine,’ Marc was saying.

‘Oh, you can do better than that,’ Tove chided. ‘This is your wedding we’re talking about.’ She placed her hands on the table. ‘Have you considered holding it at the Vasa?’

They all laughed.

‘I can’t think of anything more tacky!’

Tove looked hurt. ‘But it’s got history there. A sense of scale. This is a huge deal, guys. You’re getting married.’

‘It’s not an epic occasion in Swedish history, though,’ Kris said carefully. ‘Although we do love your enthusiasm.’ He patted her hand on the table.

‘Ugh, I’m so tired,’ Bell groaned, leaning over and resting her head on Marc’s shoulder. ‘I’m just going to go to sleep here. Don’t move, okay?’