This picture was taken outside the homeless shelter on Friday, the comment read. What was she doing there? Time to get that witch out of the Minister’s office! #notmyministerofjustice

240

Monday

108

‘This stuff’s supposed to be good for your hair, isn’t it?’ Úrsúla asked as she leaned over the wash basin to rinse the mess of raw egg from it. Her feeble attempt at humour seemed to bypass Eva, who stood behind her, concern plain on her face.

‘Won’t you take a shower?’ Eva asked, a towel in her hand.

‘No. That’ll do. Could you look in the cupboard and see if there’s a clean blouse in there?’

‘Of course there are clean blouses in your cupboard! What kind of an assistant do you think I am?’ said Eva as she turned and left the room.

Úrsúla laughed, but as she began to towel her hair dry, she felt her hands tremble. A second before the egg had hit her head someone among the gaggle of protestors outside her house had yelled ‘murderer!’

Gunnar had walked her through the crowd and those few steps to the car had felt endless.

Murderer. She had wanted to stop, to look the person who had said it in the eye, to explain; to tell them that she and Gunnar had searched for Pétur at the police station and then at the homeless shelter on Friday so they could talk to him. But this desire gave way to the fear of this throng of angry men, who wanted nothing but the worst for her, and she let Gunnar push her into the back seat. They had sped away from the echoing shouts, Gunnar muttering something under his breath about it being hopeless to try and talk to people under these circumstances, as if he had sensed what she had been thinking. 241

‘Here you are,’ said Eva, reappearing in the bathroom with a blouse that Úrsúla was sure she hadn’t seen before. She had become used to wearing whatever Eva told her to put on. She would miss it when she was no longer there at her side to deal with all those little daily matters.

‘Will you please call a press conference for tomorrow,’ she said to Eva. ‘And put together a draft of my resignation from office?’

Eva stared at her, her mouth open in surprise.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes,’ Úrsúla replied. ‘I can’t remain in office as long as I’m under some kind of suspicion of having murdered Pétur.’

‘That’s just a few idiots,’ she said.

Úrsúla shook her head. ‘I have to stand down while an investigation takes place. This photo of me outside the homeless hostel seems to have become a real bone of contention, and there’s no point trying to explain that Gunnar and I were looking for Pétur so we could talk to him. It all looks very suspicious, considering the man was found dead shortly afterwards. The neatest thing is for me to step aside so the police have a free hand to pursue an investigation.’