I can rejoin the party. The girls met her before they went to sleep. With Nan Heather’s recommendation and my phone in my pocket I feel at ease.’
Hannah could see his shoulders had relaxed. ‘Nan still has lots of friends who are fosterers or childminders.’
The music slowed and Nico, as if it were a natural thing, offered her his hand. It felt just as natural to take it and follow his lead into a slow dance, her hands on the firm warmth of his shoulders. Coloured lights roved the room, switching his skin from rose to gold. ‘Are you wondering about Maria?’ he asked.
She gave a tiny shrug, saying, diplomatically, ‘Rob said you weren’t in the mood to talk about it.’ Even through his shirt she was aware of his skin.
His face shadowed. ‘Loren’s having problems.’ As they continued to move together, his hands on her waist, he went on to explain briefly that his ex had an alcohol and prescription drugs issue. ‘Loren’s mum’s taken her home but her dad’s had heart surgery and is quite ill. They can’t look after Maria.’
Hannah tried to compute the situation. ‘But …’ She halted, not knowing how to say, ‘How is this your problem?’
He sighed, his muscles flexing beneath her palms. ‘But … what? Try and get her into care? Insist Loren takes her back before she’s capable?’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘It’s been a nightmare arranging the childcare – a mixture of annual leave, working from home, help from my cousin Emelie and Josie’s nanny. It’s nearly impossible to get day care at no notice and it would be yet another change for a small, confused kid. Unfortunately, my boss hasn’t been sympathetic.’
‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘Nico, you are a seriously good man.’
He laughed, most of his body brushing hers as they segued into a new song, something by Taylor Swift. ‘I guess I was brought up not to turn my back.’
She smiled up. Barefoot, she was short compared to him. ‘Lars was always kind. You must take after him.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘Maria seems a sweet kid.’
He nodded sombrely. ‘She wrings my heart. It’s as if she knows she’s reliant on my goodwill and hesitates inside doorways, wondering whether she’s welcome.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Hannah said, trying to imagine a two-year-old being that aware.
He changed the subject. ‘Middledip still seems a great spot. Yesterday I drove into the village and took the girls for a walk. We stopped at a place called The Angel for cake.’
A vision of the coffee shop swam into her mind, resurrected from the shambles of a derelict Victorian pub and finished with a mish-mash of reclaimed features and restored furniture. ‘I’ll bet it was delicious. The Angel Community Café opened just before I left for Sweden. It’s a great success.’
He was still looking at her, his blue eyes dark in the dim lighting. ‘I’ll be in Stockholm again on Thursday and Friday, the nineteenth and twentieth of November. Will you be free?’
Warmth spread through her. ‘How about the nineteenth? Meet me at the shop and I’ll take you for that dinner I owe you.’
‘Great.’ His eyes smiled. They danced on, talking about what Nico remembered of the village and those fun four years when he and Rob had played for the Peterborough Plunderers. Gradually, Hannah was aware of them heating each other’s air space, their bodies brushing more often and more fully.
She watched his mouth and the light of laughter in his eyes. ‘That looks good on you.’
‘What?’ His eyebrows rose.
‘The smile.’ He looked so abashed that she changed the subject. ‘Don’t you play ice hockey now?’
The laughter faded. ‘Rarely. I gave up my athletic scholarship and went to Sweden for the final year of uni.’ He drew her close enough that he could lower his voice and still be heard over the music. ‘I had a friend in Minnesota, another Swede. Jan Frick. Our American friends called him “Freak” because he was so fast. Popular, talented, doing well in college games. Then he got involved in a scuffle on the ice. Helmet came off and he took a hit to the head.’
‘Oh, no!’ Involuntarily, Hannah’s arms tightened around his whipcord body.
He nodded. ‘He’s still with us but … head injury.’ His eyes were full of pain. ‘He can’t live independently. I realised I’d never be hungry enough to get over things like that. It flattened my ambition.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she breathed, wishing she could take away his distress. But even as she thought it she