‘If you fancy her,’ Stella went on, ‘go somewhere by yourself, to the bar or the toilet, and draw this symbol in spit on your palm, then shake her hand with it as you say goodbye; hold on for as long as you can.’

Stella drew the magic symbol on a piece of paper and handed it to Gréta.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s an old Icelandic spell to hook a girl.’

Gréta sniffed, but took the scrap of paper all the same. 115

‘You really know your stuff, considering you’re pretty much a foreigner,’ she said, rushing to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Stella finished her sandwich, took a chunk of chocolate from the kitchen cupboard, and dropped a can of beer into each coat pocket, then accompanied Gréta, dressed in a mint-green jacket and with her hair tousled and in a short ponytail at the back of her neck, to the lift. As the lift reached the ground floor, she offered Stella her hand then leaned in and kissed her cheek.

‘Thank you for all your help,’ she said tenderly, and looked into her eyes, smiling with an expression that reminded Stella more than anything of Stefán, her social worker. He would sometimes gaze into her eyes with a mixture of sincerity and inquiry that she could never completely work out.

Stella was startled. She retrieved her hand and wrinkled her nose.

‘Can’t you get the hairdresser who sorts you out before the broadcast to do something a bit more sexy with your hair?’

‘Such as what?’ Gréta asked sharply, and Stella immediately regretted having said anything. She’d only added to the woman’s nervousness. But the words had tumbled out of her somehow; she’d needed some way to break the uncomfortable eye contact that seemed to demand of her something she couldn’t understand.

‘I don’t know. Something a bit more rock ‘n’ roll. Something younger.’

‘Fuck. This is going to be a proper mess. She’s not going to fancy me,’ Gréta grumbled as she marched towards her car.

Stella went the other way, downhill towards Sæbraut to catch a bus, perfectly satisfied with a free meal and some free beer.

When she got home she took a shower and lay on her mattress, intending to take a quick nap. Instead she fell into a deep sleep, not waking until late in the evening when her phone pinged as a message was delivered.

She wants another date! Gréta’s message read, triumphant, judging by the string of smiling faces and love hearts. Stella sent 116her a thumbs-up in reply, got to her feet and went to the shared kitchen, which also served as a living room for the Polish construction workers who lived there. She switched on the television to see if Gréta had taken her advice and done something new with her hair. She found the replay, punched the play button and it went to the middle of the news bulletin that ended with Gréta saying good night and reading out the headlines.