Stella turned down onto Sæbraut and crossed over at the lights. She clambered over a high mound of piled-up snow to reach the 97cycle lane that ran along the shore; it had been cleared and scattered with sand, so she could make reasonably fast progress here. The snow falling from the storm-pink sky was wet and would undoubtedly turn to rain by daylight. At any rate, she hoped so. It would be great to have a few days of rain to clear away the dirty snow and the ice beneath it.

Not far from the ministry, just as she was going to cross over Sæbraut again, she slipped on the ice. She put out a hand to save herself, and felt the pain shoot up her arm as her palm landed on the sand-strewn ice and she found herself sitting in the snow. She screamed to stop herself from crying, and when she stood up she realised that her behind was soaked and the legs of her trousers were still wet through from the bus splashing her earlier. But she had taken a decision. She was going to sell this creepy guy all the rubbish he wanted, as long as he’d pay a thousand krónur a bag on the spot. At least she’d be able to afford to take the bus and have something left for a hot dog and a Coke for dinner.

40

Gunnar finished scraping the wet slush off the steps with a shovel and took a big bag of salt from the boot of the car to scatter on the path. Úrsúla’s husband, Jón, had told him there was no need to clear the snow, but it was in his job description and he had no intention of having the minister slip on the ice and injure herself. As well as that, he was pretty sure that the husband had enough on his plate, as the minister was hardly going to be doing any household duties considering she left for work early in the morning and came home late in the evening. He thought of Fossi’s message as he salted the steps and reproached himself for having got in touch. He should have known that there was little point appealing to the good sense of a man who could write that kind of thing. 98

He was just about to ring the doorbell when Úrsúla opened the door.

‘Come in and have a cup of coffee,’ she said. ‘Nonni has just made some.’

‘I can wait in the car if you’re busy,’ he said. He wanted Úrsúla to understand that she had no need to be concerned about his wellbeing, or to worry about whether he was properly fed and rested. But sometimes people who weren’t used to having others looking after them found this difficult, and according to the bodyguard’s handbook, this could lead to increased tension.

‘I need a word with you,’ she said, gesturing for him to follow her inside.

His heart lurched and he felt a knot of anxiety form in his belly. He had no doubt she was going to get rid of him and go back to driving herself. He had noticed how uncomfortable she was being driven around, her every footstep followed. He took off his shoes and tiptoed into the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table.