The narrow staircase from the middle level up to the restaurant was closed off, so she jumped into the lift, where a smartly dressed couple were waiting to go up. The doors almost closed on her and Stella just made it inside; she wondered if the lift’s sensors maybe didn’t register invisible people. She checked out the couple on the way up, but they paid her no attention, either because they couldn’t see her or because they were so engrossed in each other.

She walked fast into the restaurant, and neither the waiter at reception nor the one who came towards her with a tray of drinks seemed to notice her. She dodged the one with the tray, went over to the buffet, which looked to have a Christmas theme to it, 230snapped off a piece of snowflake bread and munched it. If she were visible, someone would have stopped her by now. She took a piece of cold smoked lamb, which lay neatly sliced on a salver, dipped it in mustard sauce, and ate it. Her mouth watered at the sight of ceviche in the chiller, but she decided not to bother with it as all the ceviche she had tasted in Iceland had turned out bland in comparison to her mother’s. Instead she took a slice of reindeer paté, popped it in her mouth and went into the dining room.

Gréta and the blonde were at a table in the furthest corner. They weren’t facing each other, but had taken seats almost side by side, their backs to the room as they looked out over the harbour. As Stella approached, the intensity of the hot light in her head grew and she suddenly wanted to cry. She longed to turn and run, but steeled herself to continue. She had come here to see for herself what their relationship was like, to see if this was something serious or just a passing fling. She stood behind them and saw Gréta slip a hand under the table and place it on the thigh of the blonde, who leaned closer to her and whispered something Stella wasn’t close enough to hear. Gréta withdrew her hand and fidgeted somehow with it in front of her, and as Stella came right up to the table she could see the blonde leaning close to Gréta and gazing into her blouse. She had told Gréta to undo a button to give her a better view of her breasts. Stella edged slowly around the table and examined them. Gréta’s eyes glistened as she looked at the blonde, who had a dazed expression on her face, her eyes fastened on Gréta’s impressive cleavage.

‘I’m besotted with you,’ Gréta said to the blonde in a low voice.

Stella wanted to shake her head in disgust that she should say something so mawkish and stupid, after knowing the woman for only a few days, but there was a sincerity on Gréta’s face that stabbed deep into Stella’s heart. She was suddenly no longer able to hold back, and knocked their champagne glasses over, so that the bubbling contents spilled over the table, and mostly over the blonde. 231