What was it that Fossi was so keen Úrsúla didn’t interfere with? 145Gunnar opened the state TV’s website and scrolled back and forth through the domestic news items covering the minister and the ministry. The first of Fossi’s messages had arrived less than a week after Úrsúla’s first day in office, and over those six days the media had mainly focused on which of her predecessor’s issues Úrsúla intended to pursue. First there had been the Coast Guard’s complaints and the reminders that Rúnar had pledged to allocate them additional funding. Úrsúla had said in one interview that she intended to meet the Coast Guard’s representatives to discuss the matter. She hadn’t given a direct answer as to whether or not she would honour Rúnar’s promise.

Then there was the naming committee that most people regarded as being almost a joke. It was clear from the social-media comments that there was a considerable generational difference in people’s attitudes. Rúnar had been preparing a bill proposing changes to the legislation governing names, which would have included disbanding the naming committee, and it was obvious that many people were disappointed that Úrsúla intended to pursue this, while others welcomed it.

Then there had been the coverage of that old rape accusation in Selfoss. Gunnar stared at the first news item reporting that the ministry had been forced to announce exactly where in the system the case was. The date coincided exactly with that first revolting email, and those that followed seem to have been sent the same day, or the day after, there had been prominent coverage of the rape case and the ministry of the interior’s investigation into the matter.

Could Fossi be from Selfoss?

146

Sunday

60

At some time during the night Stella woke up by Gréta’s side. Her eyes were still playing tricks on her and she couldn’t make out the numbers on the bedside clock clearly, but she thought it had to be around three. When she moved her head there was no sign of the pounding headache she had expected to wake up to, so she went to the kitchen and let the cold water run.

Their clothes were scattered around the living-room floor, and she found her shirt on the sofa where Gréta had straddled her, letting her heavy breasts tumble into Stella’s face as she unclipped her bra, while Stella lay back in a daze of satisfaction, allowing the endless softness to envelop her.

She returned to the bedroom with the shirt flapping and a full glass of water in her hand, sipping it cautiously as she wasn’t yet thirsty, and saw an old woman standing by the dressing table, staring at her, a twig broom in her hands. Stella knew this had to be her imagination at work; there was an electric glow to the old lady, as if the Northern Lights had taken up residence in her elderly body.

‘Grandmother,’ Stella said. ‘Abuelita.’

‘Happy birthday,’ her grandmother said, looking around her with a quizzical expression.