‘I don’t think I’m getting the symptoms that my colleagues in aid work have described. I never have flashbacks or find myself out of touch with reality, and I’ve never not known where I am or anything like that. A friend of mine who was with me in Syria threw himself on the floor in a smart restaurant in Stockholm because he heard a noise that reminded him of gunfire. His wife was devastated, and all the diners and waiters stared at them. I’m not on edge like that. In fact, I’m pretty laid back. Nightmares are rare, no panic attacks.’

Úrsúla realised that all this added up to a defence of some kind. She hadn’t meant to be on the defensive. After all, she was the one who had booked the appointment with the psychologist.

‘You told me you scare easily,’ he said, tapping his pen against the notebook in which he had jotted things down as he took her through what he referred to as her back story. ‘And you suffer from guilt,’ he added, looking up at her with a questioning expression on his face. 192

‘Maybe that’s because of other things,’ she said. ‘I’ve been hounded since I stepped in as minister, and a week ago I freaked out because of something that turned out to be nothing at all. It was as if all that fear had collected inside me and it overflowed when an old man selling dried fish knocked on the door.’

‘Was there something that led up to this? Was there anything else that day, or over the previous days, that upset you in any way?’

‘I have a stalker – probably more than one. And I’ve been unfaithful to my husband.’ She said the last words without meaning to. Somehow they fell out of her mouth. She immediately regretted them. She sincerely hoped this psychologist kept everything he heard confidential.

‘I see,’ he said slowly, and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Was that with an individual for whom you have feelings?’

‘I don’t know,’ Úrsúla said. ‘I don’t know what emotions I do or don’t feel. I’m aware of fear and irritation and boredom, and I seem to be able to burst into tears over something completely trivial. But this numbness I told you about appears to have swallowed up all the good emotions. I’m never glad, never pleased, and I have practically no positive feelings towards anyone but the dog. Even though we’ve been to a counsellor, nothing happens. I just yell at Nonni, my husband, because I’m angry at him for asking for something I can’t give him. I know I’m supposed to love him and the children, and I know I used to, but those aren’t feelings I have any longer. At least, I have them for just a fraction of a second at a time. But there’s no way I could tell my husband that I love the dog more than him.’

‘And the man you were unfaithful with,’ the psychologist said. ‘Do you have feelings towards him?’