The snow had reduced the traffic to a crawl, and it was obvious that the snow ploughs were only able to keep the main roads clear. Úrsúla opened a window to let some air in, but this brought with it flakes of snow, although it was hard to tell if these were coming from above or drifting in from the roof of the car. It was almost time for the news, so she switched on the radio, but almost immediately turned it off again, because she could hear a clanking sound coming from the back of the car. She listened for a while and then switched the radio back on. It was just as well to take in the news on the way home, as she wouldn’t have to shush the children over dinner later. She could catch up properly online when things were quiet.

The newsreader was in the middle of an item about the criticism around the prime minister’s decision to appoint her to a ministerial post – over the heads of experienced men from both government parties – when she heard the clank again. She turned down the radio, but turned it up again as she wanted to hear the rest of the news item. It had to be ice dropping from the wheel arches or something. On the radio the prime minister nimbly defended his position, saying that it was always possible to criticise the choice of ministers when there was such a pool of talent available, but his party was implacable in its support for equal rights, in addition to which, Úrsúla’s specialist knowledge of issues concerning refugees was especially useful.

Úrsúla was startled by another clank. This time the sound was much louder, followed immediately by another. In fact, it sounded like distant gunfire, which was out of the question here. The sound was accompanied by a faint vibration; perhaps the noise was coming from the boot.

She’d have to check. It sounded as if something heavy had come adrift. Maybe she had forgotten about a gas bottle from the barbecue after the summer, or something else that had been there for 52a long time and which had now come adrift. She turned off the road and into the wide area by the harbour. She intended to stop right away, in the entrance, but the snow was piled so high on each side, she had to continue all the way to the open space that had been cleared. Here she would be able to turn the car around and get out without her shoes filling with snow.

She switched off the engine and got out, but another clank stopped her in her tracks. This time the car stood motionless, so there was no question of anything rolling from side to side. It was as if there was something alive in the boot. She glanced around, regretting that she had turned onto the quayside. Even though it was in the middle of the city, the place was poorly lit and the nearest people were some distance away. These days her gentler instincts seemed to be buried so deep that she sometimes felt that they had been lost, whereas fear was just below the surface and something like this was all it took to upset her equilibrium.