‘Mum’s so tired,’ Úrsúla said. ‘She works all day and knits sweaters all evening for extra money, but there’s still hardly a thing in the fridge.’

‘That’s the old girl all over! Wasting time knitting when she could be reading the ancient sagas and nourishing her soul!’ Pétur piped up, and her father patted his shoulder.

‘How old are you now, little Úrsúla?’ he asked gently, and she couldn’t understand how he could have forgotten something like that.

‘Ten,’ she said, and tears began to roll down her father’s grubby face. ‘Please. Come home and help us.’

‘I’m no good,’ he said, took a swig from the bottle and wept some more.

That was the last time Úrsúla went to him for help. After that she had become the one who helped him, slipping him the change from her piggy bank or an extra sandwich she made for lunch without her mother noticing, and which she’d take to him at either Arnarhóll or down at Hlemmur.

‘Are you all right?’

Eva placed a hand on her shoulder and stooped over her. Úrsúla was sat at her desk. She hadn’t noticed the door open and Eva come into the room. She shook herself, still half dazed.

‘Yes. Fine. I was just thinking about my dad. All this Pétur business has stirred it up again.’

‘I can well believe it,’ Eva said. ‘You know I’m here for you whenever you need me. I have a shoulder to cry on.’

Úrsúla gave her a smile. It was a generous offer, but she wasn’t inclined to accept it. She didn’t make a habit of shedding tears, especially not over things from the distant past. It was a side of her that nobody other than Nonni had seen; the fear, sorrow and powerlessness, which were often so illogical but sometimes possessed her – just as they had the night before when the dried-fish guy had called.

‘Thanks, Eva. You really are the best. But … moving on. Would 127you be so good as to set up an informal working group to consult with the Coast Guard to figure out what additional funding we can find for them? And would you make sure that Adolf isn’t part of it? He’s been far too pushy with me.’

Eva tapped notes into her phone at lightning speed.

‘Start the working group off with a visit to the Coast Guard, and count me in. I’d like to show them that I’m taking their request for funding seriously. And will you book me a visit to the Directorate of Immigration? Going there was supposed to be the first thing I was going to do, but then other stuff got in the way.’

As the door closed behind Eva, Úrsúla found the weight of her memories returning. She had no idea how long she spent staring into space. In her mind the doorbell buzzed, heralding the arrival of the priest, along with two police officers, who took seats in their living room, told them the news that her father was dead, and that Pétur was suspected of having murdered him.