54

Úrsúla’s breathing had barely started to slow as she lay her head on Thorbjörn’s shoulder on his living-room floor, when she caught herself comparing him to Nonni. Thorbjörn was no match for Nonni; he wasn’t even close. She couldn’t understand herself; she 131had a handsome, wonderful husband at home, who had stood by her through thick and thin over the years, and who she knew loved her, but she was throwing herself at this rough guy she hardly knew. Maybe that was what it was all about. Perhaps it was the primitive nature of their relationship that allowed her a freedom she couldn’t find with Nonni. Or perhaps she was simply too terrified of letting herself connect with Nonni again; if she allowed him past her defences and into her feelings, then she would have to tell him about Liberia. She would have to tell him that the explosions and the bursts of gunfire in Syria had almost been light relief after dealing with Ebola; that an enemy in sight was child’s play compared to the enemy who could hide inside you. But this was something she couldn’t trust herself to do. She couldn’t bring herself to see him lose his childish belief that the world would be a wonderful place if everyone just behaved decently.

Úrsúla sat up and rolled her singlet down as she glanced around Thorbjörn’s flat. It was laid out in the same way as most student apartments, with an open-plan kitchen and living room, a bedroom to one side and a small bathroom opposite the front door. What was considered acceptable temporary accommodation for a student in Iceland would have been welcomed as a permanent home by a whole family in Syria.

Úrsúla wondered how a middle-aged man like Thorbjörn with a full-time job managed to hold on to a student flat, but she didn’t like to ask. His personal arrangements were none of her business.

‘You’re leaving already?’ he asked, stroking her thigh and sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

‘My driver’s waiting for me outside.’

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

She shrugged.

‘I don’t make a habit of this,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been unfaithful to my husband before.’

Thorbjörn was silent, but continued to run his fingers along her leg until she pushed his hand away. 132

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and instead of replying in the same way she spoke to Nonni, with a shake of the head and a forced smile to tell him that everything was fine, she told Thorbjörn the truth. It was easy, so painless, and with no repercussions.

‘No, I’m not all right,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been all right for a long time.’

133

Saturday

55

‘So,’ was all the prime minister said as soon as Úrsúla answered the phone.

She knew exactly where this was going. He wanted to hear what ideas she had come up with for canning the South Coast Highway initiative. She mouthed an apologetic sorry to Eva, who sat opposite her at the desk. They had been going over next week’s commitments and Úrsúla had been speaking as the phone rang.