‘So where are the doughnuts?’ the prime minister called out and the government laughed. This was clearly part of the routine. The tray was quickly brought in, most of those present reached for one of the twisted doughnuts and followed the prime minister’s example by dunking them in their coffee. Two of the women present didn’t join in, leaving the doughnuts untouched and making do with sparkling water. Úrsúla guessed they were watching their waistlines, as one of them, Guðrún, the minister for social affairs, looked to be on the tubby side. Women in politics had to look good, while the men didn’t seem to need to worry about it, unbuttoning jackets and happily letting their bellies strain their shirt buttons.

She was relieved and delighted to find out how much this first cabinet meeting was like a management meeting at any other organisation – something she had plenty of experience of. The only difference between this and the meetings she had taken part in before was that the mode of address was formal. All of the ministers 61addressed each other by title and not by name. That would need some practice.

‘Can I offer you more coffee?’ the prime minister asked when the meeting was over and they were the only two left.

Úrsúla shook her head. She had moved to a seat next to him at a corner of the table. Through the window she could see the buildings at Lækjartorg, and if she were to crane her neck, she could see the square itself, where a small snowplough was scraping the ground and salting it for the benefit of pedestrians.

‘The more I think about it,’ he said, stretching to take one more of the twisted doughnuts and dipping it carefully into his coffee, ‘the more I’m convinced we absolutely did the right thing by bringing transport, local government and justice under one roof in a single interior ministry.’ Chewing the doughnut, he continued to speak from the corner of his mouth. ‘Rúnar probably wasn’t the right man for the job. But I have a strong suspicion that you’re the person who can take this on.’

‘Thank you,’ Úrsúla said. ‘I hope I can meet your expectations, and those of both parties.’

‘No question,’ the prime minister said, his mouth full of doughnut.

Úrsúla cleared her throat and drew a deep breath.

‘Let’s get down to business,’ she said and the PM nodded.

‘Although the South Coast Highway was one of our main election pledges, we need to find a good reason to dump it,’ he said. ‘We have to come up with something along the lines of the financing having fallen through, or that the whole matter has been put on hold until after the next election, or whatever, so that we can quietly put the whole thing to bed. You can rely on Óðinn to come up with some bullshit that sounds convincing but which can’t be looked into too closely.’ Úrsúla opened her mouth to speak, but the prime minister continued. ‘Or, if you dare, you can take this decision on your own initiative, but you’ll be in the firing line from every direction.’ 62