‘Was he at sea for long?’ Sonja asked, for want of anything better to say while she stared at the photograph.

‘No. That’s the thing with Húni Thór. He doesn’t stick with anything for long. He was a few years at sea, then two terms in parliament, but that didn’t suit him. He seems to have done well in business, though.’

‘What sort of business did he go into?’ Sonja asked. But when she saw the look on Anton’s father’s face she immediately regretted her question. It was clear Húni Thór’s uncle was aware that there was something shady about his nephew’s business activities, although Sonja doubted that he knew exactly what kind of business Húni Thór found most profitable; a business that she was also involved in.

‘I guess he’s much the same as me,’ he said, handing her the backpack. ‘Does what works out best, depending on the circumstances.’

Sonja thanked him for fetching the bag, and Anton’s father showed her to the door.

‘I forgot to ask your name. I know we’ve met before, when the boys were playing football together, but it’s completely escaped my memory.’

He extended a hand and she took it firmly.

‘Sonja,’ she said.

‘Ingimar,’ he said and smiled again. His discomfort following her awkward question about Húni Thór’s business was gone. ‘Tell you what,’ he added. ‘Maybe you and Tómas would like to come down to the dock to see my new boat being delivered? I’ll give you a guided tour.’

Sonja smiled apologetically, unsure whether Ingimar was flirting with her; he had held on to her hand for longer than necessary and was now gazing straight into her eyes. She wondered how to decline courteously.

‘Anton will be going to sea for the first time this summer and he’d enjoy showing Tómas around the boat. And you’ll be able to say hello to Húni Thór as well, as you’re old friends.’

‘Say hello to Húni Thór?’ Sonja looked at him questioningly. ‘Will he be on board?’

‘Yes, he’s steaming it across from Fraserburgh for me.’

Ingimar picked up a copy of that morning’s paper and showed it to Sonja. She stared at it transfixed. She had seen the front page in two or three places already that day but hadn’t taken a close look at it; pictures of ships weren’t something that sparked her interest.

‘We’ll be fishing for langoustine, and I’ll be taking every second trip this summer myself, with Anton as part of the crew. It’s a twenty-metre boat, steel hull…’

Sonja no longer heard what Ingimar was saying, and his voice faded into the background as he rambled on about the boat, the trawl gear, langoustine fishing and the sea in general while she read the news article. A fishing company owned by Húni Thór, and presumably also by his uncle, Ingimar, had bought a trawler from Scotland, according to the article, and Húni Thór was the skipper who was bringing it over to Iceland following a refit. At the end was a quote from Húni Thór Gunnarsson, ‘former parliamentary star and entrepreneur’, who described the boat in glowing terms. He seemed to be displaying the flair that had served him so well through the years.