The neighbour beamed at Hannah, Josie and Maria. ‘Such a lovely family!’
Nico didn’t try and explain who was who but thanked her again before she scurried back to the warmth of her house. He jumped up on the white-painted porch, fishing a key from his pocket and letting them in. They left their boots in the alcove inside the door rather than track snow onto Lars’s parquet floors while Nico went back for the luggage.
Hannah looked around. There were two big rooms downstairs: a sitting room and an L-shaped kitchen-diner that led to a snowy back verandah and a garden with a birdhouse. Nico reappeared, stacking up their bags, wind-blown and out of breath.
They climbed the uncarpeted wooden stairs to examine the two bedrooms and bathroom. Hannah’s room was a typical spare, home to a collection of cardboard boxes and an ironing board as well as a bed with a white and yellow quilt. Lars’s room, where Nico and the girls would sleep, ran across the back of the house and sported a king-sized bed and two airbeds, neatly made. As soon as the girls saw the airbeds they flung themselves down, considerably reducing the neatness.
Nico groaned theatrically as he deposited the suitcases on the floor. ‘I don’t think I’ll get to sleep late with this pair so close.’ Then they stood at the window while he pointed out landmarks above the rooftops – his high school, the church where his parents had married. Farmland and forest out of town. He looked happy and relaxed to be back where he’d come from.
They’d unpacked and the girls had eaten a little of Felicia’s cake when Mattias arrived to pick Nico up for the drive to the hospital in Jönköping.
Nico dragged on his coat. ‘I’m going to see Farfar.’ He hugged Josie and then Maria. ‘Be good for Hannah. When I come back we’ll go back to Farmor’s house for julbord. It was arranged before Farfar was ill and Farmor still wants to do it.’ He hugged Hannah, too, warm, firm. Brief.
After he’d hurried back into the snow, Hannah decided to take the girls food shopping. Google told her there was a Kvantum supermarket in Bandygatan, a few minutes’ drive away and soon she was pushing Maria in a trolley while Josie darted back and forth, asking if she could buy tinsel for Farfar’s sitting room and falling on Marabou chocolate with a delighted cry of, ‘This is the best.’
‘Wan’ chocyut,’ Maria decided, trying to crane backwards to scoop it out of the trolley.
Hannah beat her to it, replacing the enormous bar Josie had selected with two much smaller ones. ‘We’ll put them in the fridge and ask Dad when you can have them.’
‘Awww,’ groaned Josie, folding her arms.
‘Awww,’ groaned Maria, folding hers too, though not as neatly.
‘Poor you,’ Hannah joked. ‘Let’s get cereal bars and fruit, juice, milk, tea and coffee.’ Not certain what shape the week would take, she added bread, ham, cheese, salad and soup. It felt very domesticated to be shopping with two children in tow. At the checkout she stepped back to let a very pregnant lady go ahead of her and helped load the till belt to save her having to bend over her considerable bump. Must be funny to be pregnant, she found herself thinking. All that waiting. Wondering. Then, at the end of the waiting, suddenly there was a Josie or a Maria. Her mind strayed to Loren, who’d given birth to these bright, lovely girls. If she ever had children she’d fight through anything to keep them with her, she decided. Then she brought herself up sharply, realising that she’d never experienced what Loren was going through so had no right to judge.
They’d been home half an hour when Nico returned, subdued, though he smiled for the children. ‘I saw Dad for twenty minutes,’ he reported to Hannah in a low voice. ‘He gets his angiogram results tomorrow. He’s pretty tired and looks—’ he paused to select the right word ‘—colourless.’ He sighed. ‘Do you mind if we get straight off to Mum’s? It sounds as if she’s gone to a lot of trouble and my great-aunts, Astrid and Ellen, will be there, along with Ida, my cousin Emelie’s mum, and a couple of male cousins of Mum’s who go wherever there’s free nosh. Mattias and Felicia have gone straight there.’
‘Sure.’ Hannah gave him an impulsive hug. ‘Try not to worry about your dad. He’s in good hands.’ When she saw an answering gleam in his eye she blushed, realising a comforting hug was different to a hug hello or goodbye. Maybe she was getting too deeply into this family role. It was as if she thought she was a wife.
In the event, they didn’t stay late at Carina’s. Mattias proved prickly and moody, Felicia casting him anxious looks. Nico was quiet too. His great-aunts Astrid and Ellen had identical grey wavy hair and called Nico ‘Nicke’ explaining to Hannah with evident delight that ‘Nico’ was a German name. Nicke was Swedish. Nico just smiled but Carina retorted that she was entitled to give her sons any names she pleased, Germanic or not. It appeared to be a family discussion of long standing. Carina’s male cousins ate and drank stolidly, and though Ida, who was Lars’s brother’s ex-wife, was a chatty, homely lady, Hannah concluded it was a gathering to get all the hospitality owed to peripheral family over with at one time.
The adults sharpened their appetites with a small glass of glögg: mulled wine. The girls loved the drink Julmust, which always tasted to Hannah like flat cola, with their Prinskorv sausage, spare rib and meatballs. They dipped happily into the gravlax and the beetroot salad but weren’t sold on herring or Janssons frestelse of potato, anchovy and onion.
The cheesecake and ischoklad – ‘ice chocolate’ – found great favour. Even Nico ate three of the little sweets. She ate eight, herself.
Finally, Nico said it was time to get the girls to bed and they said their goodnights and drove in silence through the forest between Älgäng and Nässjö, moonlight turning the snow and trees to a landscape of black and white.
Maria had fallen asleep as soon as the car wheels turned and stayed more or less that way through being changed into pyjamas, taken to the loo and slipped beneath her quilt.
‘You’re tired too,’ Nico murmured to Josie. ‘You can read in bed for a while.’ She yawned and fished unicorn-strewn pyjamas out of a suitcase.
Hannah went down to the sitting room, switched on a couple of lamps and built a fire in the corner of the open fireplace in the Swedish way, enjoying the crackle as the flames took hold.
A soft tread on the stair. Nico appeared and passed through the corner of the room headed for the kitchen, reappearing in a few moments with a bottle of red wine. ‘It’s Dad’s but I’ll replenish his stock.’
‘That looks great.’ She added another log to the fire and returned to her place on the sofa. Nico handed her a brimming glass of the jewel-red liquid and stood the bottle on a small table. He dropped down beside her and helped himself to a share of her footstool so that their feet, in thick woolly socks, were not far apart.
He drank half his wine and sighed, letting his head loll back against the sofa. ‘I need this. Dad looks grey and Mattias has an ant up his arse about something. He was morose when he drove me to Jönköping, as if I’d offended him.’
Hannah thought of Mattias’s earlier terseness and Felicia’s wary expression. ‘Is he usually happier to see you when you come to Sweden?’
He shrugged. ‘No, but he’s not so obviously … distant.’ He shifted slightly, his shoulder settling lightly against hers. She didn’t break the contact but examined the pleasure the innocent touch gave her and the way her heart began to hurry the blood around her veins. His touch felt deliberate. A signal. A tentative approach.
‘Yours and Mattias’s relationship is different to mine and Rob’s. I often didn’t see him for weeks, even when we live in the same country, but we always find time for messages or calls, even if it’s just to exchange friendly insults. Maybe we’re lucky that we like each other as well as love each other.’ When they met they hugged. They were siblings. She couldn’t imagine any other way.
‘It’s different,’ he agreed with a sigh. ‘That “bonkers brother” and “stupid sister” stuff is filled with love.’ Nico laughed, his blue eyes darker than usual in the low light.
‘You look out for each other, too. He used to warn his friends off you when we were teenagers.’
Hannah snorted. ‘No self-respecting sixteen-year-old would pursue someone of twelve, anyway. And you guys were sophisticated and glamorous. Your names appeared in the Evening Telegraph in the ice hockey reports. I was overawed by your fame.’ Although she made her voice mocking, truth lay beneath her words.
His eyes crinkled to slits. Then he sobered. ‘We used to have a rule about going out with teammates’ sisters and exes so you’d be out of bounds on that score too.’ His gaze remained firmly fixed on her. ‘Rob reminded me of that at his wedding … after he’d seen us dancing so close together.’
Her breathing hitched at the memory of his body moving against hers, his hands on her bare back above her jumpsuit, his lips hovering as if offering a kiss. But then … ‘After? Ah.’ That explained why Nico had abruptly cooled on her and danced with Amanda Louise. She finished her wine, irritation prickling beneath her skin. She’d still been with Albin then but she’d known the end was near and without Rob warning Nico off she could have left things on a more promising note.
Men were weird. They had their codes about not sleeping with a mate’s sister but saw nothing wrong in slow-dancing with a woman, gazing at her hungrily … then ignoring her.
‘I’m tired. I think I’ll go up,’ she said abruptly, not feeling quite so kindly disposed towards Rob now. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘OK,’ he answered, sounding surprised at the suddenness of her exit. ‘Goodnight, Hannah.’
She awoke on Saturday feeling sheepish at last night’s prickliness. Nico had been discussing sibling relationships and she’d somehow made it about her. So Rob had made some blokey remark about a teammates rule? Nico and Rob were adults, now, and not teammates. Nico could have told Rob what to do with his warning. He’d probably simply fancied tall, sexy, beautiful, smug, spoiled Amanda Louise more than Hannah. That was his prerogative.
Once dressed, she ran downstairs, hearing Josie’s high piping and Maria’s insistent cooing long before she caught Nico’s reassuring rumble. He looked up when she appeared and smiled. ‘Best breakfast. Porridge and milk? Or pastries and juice?’
‘Pastries and juice,’ she answered promptly.
‘Yay!’ shouted Josie.
Nico shook his head. ‘You people have no idea.’ But he put out pastries and poured juice.
Hannah fathomed out Lars’s coffee machine and made herself white and Nico black then picked up Maria, who could barely see over the table, and sat down with her on her lap. Maria slapped the table top and chortled as she tried to snag the biggest pastry for herself.
Nico sat down, plated the smallest pastry for the toddler and passed it across. ‘My plan’s to light my candles this morning while Dad sees the consultant. I’m hoping to visit him this afternoon.’
Hannah pushed her coffee aside so Maria couldn’t touch the steaming mug. ‘Light your candles?’
He wiped butter from Josie’s plate so it couldn’t transfer itself to her sleeve. ‘At the cemetery, for my grandparents and an assortment of relatives. Do you want to come? Josie always does so I’ll take Maria too.’
Josie backed him up, pastry flakes sticking to her cheeks. ‘It’s snowing again! Come with us, Hannah. It’ll be awesome.’ Her ponytail jiggled as if in emphasis.
Hannah smiled at her excited face. ‘Then I will.’
They finished breakfast while, beyond the window, the snow swirled like white bees swarming and banking in the wind. Josie was shouty with the thrill of it and Maria shouty because if her big sister shouted then shouting was obviously in.
Nico whizzed out to Kvantum supermarket to buy candles while Hannah got the girls to clean their teeth, visit the loo and wrap up in snowsuits, boots, gloves and hats. Maria was easily bored by the dressing process and tended to shed gloves and hat with a soft, ‘Noo.’
When Nico returned they set out, the snow squeaking beneath their boots on the pavements while cars sailed past with a muffled swish and the snow tried to immediately paint over the tracks. Snow made cotton wool of twiggy hedges or lay along tree branches like white snakes. Hannah lowered the flaps of her hat to cover her ears from the stinging flakes that flung themselves at her and the freezing air bit the back of her throat.
‘Cold!’ Maria kept squeaking, eyes dancing and cheeks pink. ‘Snow cold.’ Luckily, her mittens were waterproof because she plunged them into the white mounds at every opportunity. Hannah made a snowball and gave it to her to hurl at Nico. Maria managed to fling it behind herself and stamped on it instead. Nico threw his head back and laughed, his black woollen hat low over sparkling eyes.
Fairy lights twinkled and lighted stars glowed from windows beneath roofs like white witches’ hats as they trekked along the quiet residential streets past traditional wooden houses and brick-built modern apartment blocks. Then Nico turned through a gateway to the cemetery where dwarf conifers and heather poked through the snow.
It looked unexpectedly beautiful. A man sweeping the path between the hedges said, ‘Hej,’ as they crunched past. Pine trees towered like giant pointed figures holding up spiky dresses to catch the snow. The headstones were small rectangles, set out in rows with lanterns beside them. Hannah was struck by the dignity and simplicity of the plain memorials rather than the larger, ornate kind she’d seen in English graveyards. It felt very Swedish.
Josie was obviously familiar with events. When Nico stopped at a pair of stones and brushed them off she said, ‘Can I light the candles?’ Hannah watched them crouch together, prising the top off the glass lanterns and carefully positioning inside stubby ivory-coloured candles from Nico’s backpack. Then he took out an igniter and Josie pressed the trigger. Its flame leaped to the candlewicks. Hannah kept Maria’s mittened hand in hers. With the lantern lids replaced, the flames flickered prettily.
Nico rose, brushing snow from his knees. ‘My grandparents.’ He gestured at the stones. ‘Mormor and Morfar. They used to take me hiking and skiing when I was young.’ From ‘mor’ at the beginning of each word Hannah didn’t have to be told these were his mother Carina’s parents.
Wandering deeper into the cemetery they repeated the action with Nico’s Farmor and Farfar and then a cousin and a great-uncle. ‘We did this with Mum when we were little. It’s a peaceful thing to do,’ he said, hooking the now empty backpack over a shoulder.
They retraced their footsteps, the girls scurrying ahead, hand in hand, their chatter floating on the icy air. ‘Feeling peaceful’s important to you?’ Hannah asked as he held a branch so she could squeeze through a gap in the hedge. Snow whispered down around them.
‘I prefer it to stress,’ he answered. ‘Peace makes me a better dad. I don’t mess with my eating to try and get a feeling of control. If I look after myself better, I look after others better.’
The wind was behind them now and it was easier to walk without the snow flying in their faces. She said, ‘It’s like when you’re in a failing aircraft and the masks drop down. You have to get your own oxygen flowing before you can help others.’
His blue eyes glowed. ‘Yes, it’s exactly like that! That’s a great analogy.’
‘Do you feel at peace in Middledip too?’ she ventured, watching the snow fly and bank around them, muffling the noise from the nearby road. ‘Or do you think you should be back in Sweden?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Our lives are in England and I wouldn’t separate Josie and Maria by such a distance. I like Middledip and soon I hope to hear that Josie will have a place at the village school. All the stretched feeling of juggling work and childcare has faded away. I’ll find something to do in a while – maybe some way of working from home – but there’s time for that. I’d like to integrate with the village more. Get involved in fun stuff.’
‘There’s an old folks’ party at the village hall on the twentieth,’ Hannah teased. ‘You could take Nan.’
He shrugged. ‘Happy to. She’s an interesting la
dy and I wouldn’t mind helping out on the tea urn or ferrying plates about. My life’s been so structured, my working life so make-or-break, I’ve barely had time to get involved in a community. I could be the pain in the arse who organises everything and is always trying to rope people in.’
‘We’ve already got one of those. She’s called Carola and works in The Angel,’ Hannah said, with a gurgle of laughter.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘In that case I’ll be assistant pain in the arse.’
Then Maria began to cry because she’d face-planted in the snow and he hurried to swoop her up and brush her down, drying her tears with his gloved fingers and then putting her on his shoulders for the journey home.
Josie dropped back to walk with Hannah. ‘You know what would be really, really good? If we filled the whole garden with snowmen. Then when Farfar comes out of hospital they’ll still be there even though we’ve gone home.’
‘What a lovely idea!’ Hannah laid her arm on Josie’s shoulder. ‘How about this afternoon while Dad’s visiting Farfar in hospital? We could keep it as a surprise.’
‘Yeah!’ Josie tried to skip but skipping in snow was like skipping in glue. She raised her voice. ‘Dad! We’ve got a secret and we’re not going to tell you!’
Nico turned, a tall figure wearing Maria on his shoulders like a fashion accessory. ‘Is it about my Christmas present?’
‘No!’ Josie laughed. Then she looked up at Hannah and whispered worriedly, ‘I haven’t got him anything because we usually make presents for our parents at school.’
‘We’ll think of something.’ Hannah realised there was now no wife/nanny/cousin in Josie’s life to check Josie made her dad a gift. As if her offer promoted Hannah to a new level in Josie’s mind, she chattered all the way back. First she talked about Loren. She didn’t seem to Hannah to regard her as a child normally regarded her mother, with love and a recognition of maternal authority, but more as someone for whom allowances must be made, someone who couldn’t completely be trusted. How must it have felt for Josie to find Maria hungry and thirsty, crying hopelessly in her room? Nothing like it had happened in Hannah’s childhood and she could only imagine how scary it would be. No wonder Josie clung to the safety of Nico.
Christmas Wishes: From the Sunday Times bestselling and award-winning author of romance fiction comes a feel-good cosy Christmas read Page 23