28

Úrsúla felt a stab of guilt in her belly as she silently reproached herself for the kiss, and no less for the feelings that welled up inside her when she was close to Thorbjörn. What on earth was wrong with her, being so emotionally numb towards Nonni, who she had loved and trusted more than anyone alive, while burning with passion for a man she hardly knew? Lying in bed with Nonni, close to him and in the warmth of his body, was so comforting, so safe, that she failed to understand herself.

If she were to apply a little pop psychology to herself, she was sure she’d find that this was some form of PTSD, manifesting itself as a bizarre lack of feelings for the people who she knew deep inside she loved the most. It was as if a disconnect had appeared between her mind and her body, between emotion and good sense, so that what she knew seemed to have no effect on what she 72felt in her heart. Now, deep in her heart, she felt a pulsing joy, the extra beat that Thorbjörn had set ticking and which she resented. There would be no more meetings. She had given in to temptation and she was determined not to go near the man again. There was too much at stake and the thought that she might hurt Nonni was heartbreaking.

She gazed at him as he sat in bed with his tablet in front of him, going through his emails. So that they could move home, he had resigned from a good position at the university in Geneva, taking on part-time teaching at the economics faculty at the University of Iceland. This was so that she could regain her balance in a safe, quiet, familiar environment.

These days he used reading glasses, and as they were cheap ones he had bought at a petrol station, they didn’t fit and slipped down his nose, making him look cute as he tilted his head back so he could see the screen through them. He sensed that she was looking at him and glanced down at her.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, and she swallowed the lump in her throat; he wasn’t asking a big life question about their marriage or her emotions. He was asking how she felt after seeing the note – the death-and-the-devil message that had been waiting for her when she came home.

‘Oh, fine,’ she replied. ‘I’m with the police on this: it’s not worth making a drama out of it with charges and whatnot. The poor old boy just isn’t right in the head.’

‘Hmm.’ Nonni took off his glasses. ‘You reckon the note came from him – the bum who was in the boot of the car?’

‘Yes.’

Úrsúla didn’t think twice. She simply took it for granted that the note had come from him. ‘I don’t want him charged or anything like that, but I’m not sure I agree with the police – that he was just looking for somewhere to get out of the weather. And I think the note today proves that.’