Úrsúla started at the woman’s snort of derision.

‘If it’s still the same permanent secretary, then not much will happen,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve spoken to him time and again, and every time he’s just about to put things in motion, and nothing ever happens.’

25

‘Why don’t you make something of this fascination with ancient Icelandic stuff and study it properly?’ Stefán asked with the questioning look in his eyes that always made Stella take what he said seriously. She always took careful notice of his advice and had done so ever since he had become her social worker when she was ten years old. This was why she continued to meet him at a coffee house once a month, even though he was long retired. The mystery was, why on earth he was still happy to give her his time. He was so generous with it, there had to be real concern there.

‘I thought studying it would kill the enjoyment,’ Stella said, and looked out of the coffee house’s window. The driven snow seemed to be piling up against the pane so that soon there would be no way to see outside. ‘School makes everything such a drag.’

He smiled through his grey beard, and Stella smiled back.

He still seemed to enjoy her company. She was grateful for that, even though his unasked-for advice and interference could irritate her.

‘Academics don’t even believe in magic. They just want to find out where it came from and how it was used,’ she said. ‘I’ve read loads of articles; there’s nobody left who uses magic.’ 66

‘Why do you think that is?’ he asked, a hint of a smile reaching those questioning eyes of his.

‘Because people don’t believe it works, that it’s just some old junk.’

‘Old wives’ tales.’

‘Yes. I understand why people think that, but what if this is an unexploited resource? What if the magic does work and can be used?’

Stefán sighed and grinned, but his smile vanished when the waitress appeared and asked Stella in English if there was anything more they wanted.

‘She may be brown, but she’s Icelandic,’ Stefán snapped in irritation.

Stella gave the girl a smile and shook her head.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the girl apologised. ‘I didn’t know you spoke Icelandic.’

‘That’s all right,’ Stella said. She was used to this and was no longer surprised when someone addressed her in English. This had become more frequent after all the tourists had begun to arrive and there were more foreigners than locals around the town. ‘Were you about to say something?’ she asked Stefán, who had a sour look on his face.

‘When people were cold and hungry – and beset by sickness, superstition and the fear of trolls and ghosts – they needed something they could believe in that would give them a little control over their lives,’ Stefán said. ‘I have to say I don’t quite see how trousers made of a dead man’s skin or farting runes have any relevance to people today.’