‘In their house,’ he corrected. ‘With her and her husband and their children.’

‘What stupid shit is this?’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard that drivers get to stay with ministers. Are you fucking her, you idiot?’

Gunnar stopped and sighed. ‘No Íris. I’m not sleeping with the minister. And don’t call me an idiot.’

‘I’ll call you what you are,’ she hissed. ‘Not the sharpest chisel in the toolbox, are you? You think I haven’t seen your profile on Tinder? You set it up the day before yesterday and you don’t need 201to tell me you’re staying with this Úrsúla just to keep her safe. If you’re not fucking her, then you’re fucking some cow you found on Tinder.’

‘I set up a Tinder profile because of work,’ he said. ‘There’s someone who registered a profile in the minister’s name, some stalker. I did it so I can keep track.’

Tears flowed down Íris’s face, her mascara forming two black stripes. He reached out and tried to pull her into his arms. He wanted to hold and reassure her. Normally he took deep breaths and took care not to let her furious outbursts affect his emotions, but now he felt sorry for her.

‘Fucking liar,’ she whispered, and sniffed.

‘I know it looks weird, but it’s the truth,’ he said. ‘There’s someone out there stalking the minister, sending her disgusting messages, and now he’s put up a Tinder profile in her name and invited some guys to her house. I’m responsible for her safety, so I do what the police ask me to do. That includes staying in her house.’

‘You’re telling lies,’ she sniffed, and he felt a stab of pain in his belly. She was so miserable and helpless in her anger that he wanted to find something he could say that would comfort her. Her jealousy was so painful.

‘I swear it, Íris. I’ve never two-timed women. I’d never be unfaithful. I’m not that kind of person.’

The blow was unexpected and was too fast for him to dodge. The sting of pain in his cheek where her ring burst open the skin sent a rush of adrenaline through him. He put a hand to his face and looked at his palm. It didn’t appear to be bleeding much, but his cheek was left as numb as if a dentist had anaesthetised it. She had slapped harder than he could have imagined. He felt the stress hormones set loose in his body. He was angry, and also deeply hurt. This assault on his temple, the body he worked so hard to look after, came with a set of associations different to the old man’s beatings in the old days. Íris’s hands were the ones that should 202stroke his cheek, hold his hand and play with his fingers, leave scratches down his back when they made love. He felt the tears filling his eyes and he could see Íris staring at him in wonder, the fear building up in her face. He knew that look from his father. After the fear came more anger, then repentance and finally passion.