The devil’s friend loses his soul and brings down evil, the note read, the last few words an almost illegible scrawl. It looked like someone had decided she had made friends with the devil himself. There was 19nothing unusual about politicians being lambasted for entering into coalitions with people someone was unhappy with, but as she was not linked to any party, she had somehow imagined that this kind of criticism wouldn’t come her way. All the same, people ought to be used to seeing political parties working together when the parliamentary term was so far advanced, and anyway she’d simply been called in to finish the work begun by Rúnar. She screwed the note into a ball and flicked it aside, and it was lost among the mess of paper, juice cartons and sweet wrappers that filled the footwell. She reminded herself that this weekend the car would need to be cleaned as the smell was becoming overpowering. She sighed and tried to relax, to let her racing heartbeat slow. She had been aware before taking the job that she wouldn’t be popular with everyone and that she’d get to hear about it. But the note in the car had still been upsetting. Somehow it was too close to home, too personal. In future she’d leave the car in the other car park with all the others.

As she parked outside her house, she wound the window shut – the smell in the car had forced her to drive home with it halfway open. There had to be half a sandwich turning green somewhere down there, or something in the junk in the back. She’d have to ask Nonni to clean the car. Judging by the emails waiting for her and the long jobs list, there wouldn’t be much opportunity to do it herself. This weekend would have to be spent getting herself up to speed on everything the ministry did.

‘Congratulations, my love!’ Nonni called out as she opened the front door. ‘You made it through day one!’

Kátur bounced towards her, his furry body twitching with delight at seeing her again, and as usual she dropped to her knees to greet him. She held his little head in both hands, kissed the top of his head and breathed in the smell of newly bathed dog. Nonni regularly gave him a bath and used shampoo on him, even though Úrsúla had warned that it wasn’t good for dogs.

‘Lovely to see you, Kátur,’ she whispered into his fur as his tail wagged furiously. There was no limit to how much she loved this 20little dog. He had kept her sane when she had moved back home, becoming the compass that showed her the way back to love. He had helped her put aside her weapons and lower the defences she had erected around herself somewhere between the Ebola epidemic in Liberia and the refugee camps in Syria.

The dog wriggled from her arms, ran halfway along the hall into the apartment, and then back to her. That was what he always did, scampering between her and the family, as if he were showing her the way home to them. This was guidance she certainly needed, as since moving back to Iceland she had felt at a distance from them, as if they were on the far side of some invisible barrier that she had been unable to break through.