‘The worst of it is that I think I was appointed minister of the interior to do just this. I’m here to be the unpopular bitch who wrecks the vital transport initiative that the whole country has been looking forward to for far too long. That’s why both parties buried their differences and accepted a minister from outside the government.’

‘Shi—’ Eva began, and paused. ‘There must be a way around this. We can’t stop this going ahead. The whole south coast is alive with tourists and can’t cope with the traffic, and there’s just one accident after another.’

Úrsúla looked at her thoughtfully. Eva’s disappointment over the South Coast Highway being abandoned would be nothing compared to the rage that would erupt from people living along the south coast, as well as commercial drivers and the whole tourist industry.

‘I really need to speak to this Ingimar directly,’ Úrsúla said. ‘I need to hear from him in person that he’s behind the finance, and I need to be sure that the prime minister is telling me the truth. There’s something about this that stinks, and I’m wondering if I’m a pawn in it all.’

Eva nodded.

‘You can’t just take responsibility for canning the highway without saying a word. You’ll just be clearing up someone else’s mess. But you can’t let anyone find out that you’re in personal contact with Ingimar. The man’s a terrorist.’

56

Úrsúla could see the irritation on Nonni’s face, so she quickly finished her conversation with Eva, switched off her phone and put it in her pocket. It was a cold, still day, and the snow crackled underfoot as they walked around the Árbær open-air museum.

‘To start with you’re back from work two hours later than you 136said you’d be. Then you’re on the phone non-stop, and then there’s this,’ he muttered, so the children didn’t hear.

‘This’ meant her long conversation with the chief executive of the Directorate of Immigration, who had happened to be buying his family tickets for the museum just as they turned up. Nonni and the man’s wife, after a few pleasantries, had each herded their children into the yard, and Úrsúla had seen Nonni and the children playing on the swings in the corner while she convinced the chief executive of the need for co-operation.

‘The phone’s off,’ she said, hooking a hand into the crook of Nonni’s elbow.

She’d been surprised by how reserved the chief executive of the Directorate of Immigration was. He had mumbled and hesitated a few half-sentences that conveyed neither any particular interest in what Úrsúla had to say, nor even minimal respect for the ministry to which his department answered. More than likely a minister with a one-year term in office didn’t carry a great deal of weight.

The children were happy and skipped down the steps. Today they had pancake-making and a guided tour around the old turf house to look forward to. This was a place they had visited regularly with the children every summer and Christmas holiday they’d spent in Iceland. Initially the toy collection had been the biggest attraction; later on it had been the animals; and now Herdís had developed a genuine interest in old houses and the lives of those who had lived in them. Ari’s interest was mostly in anything edible, but otherwise he seemed happy just to join in, satisfied they were all together. Úrsúla would have been even happier if Kátur had been with them. He always helped lighten the atmosphere, his doggy delight in everything making them all laugh.