‘Of course it will,’ María said, placing a hand on her back. ‘But what’s in it for you?’ she asked. ‘You once told me that you never do anything unless somehow or other there was something in it for you. That means love as well? Not just nuts-and-bolts stuff?’

Agla smiled.

‘People change,’ she said. ‘I’ve extricated myself from a lot of business. Even you wouldn’t find me linked to anything shady now.’

María’s eyes widened.

‘That’s a big change!’ she said. ‘What came over you?’

‘Love,’ Agla said. ‘That’s what’s in it for me.’

As the words passed her lips, she saw the car approach around the corner of the workshop, one of the old buildings that had become part of the museum. She had expected it would come from the other direction, but it was just like Elísa to arrive from where she was least expected. William hurried into the church to let the priest know, and Agla put on her jacket.

Ewa, Sigurgeir and Guðrún all got out of the car. It wasn’t something Agla had thought about, but now it looked as if Elísa was some kind of highly dangerous gangster who deserved an escort of three warders. Agla had made sure to invite the three prison staff they both knew, in the hope that it might make visiting Elísa smoother – a wedding softened every heart. Elísa stepped out of the car, a broad smile on her face, and Agla again dropped a silent word of thanks for this beautiful August day.

Elísa’s hair had been simply done, hanging loose and with a dianthus in it, and the national costume suited her perfectly. Agla had tried to buy it, but the old woman in the hire shop had flatly refused to sell. One day she would have a traditional costume made for Elísa, who had said that these were the smartest clothes she had ever seen.

‘Hæ,’ Elísa said, and kissed her.

‘Hæ,’ Agla said. ‘You’re beautiful.’

‘You too,’ Elísa said, and Agla felt a moment’s discomfort. She had done nothing special; she had simply bought herself a new suit. These were the only clothes she felt at home in. But she had been to the hairdresser to get her hair and make-up fixed so that she would look respectable for the pictures that Elísa had been adamant ought to be taken so the child could look at them one day; and to show the girls at Hólmsheiði too, of course.

‘Are you happy?’ Agla whispered to her.

Elísa skipped in excitement.

‘Shit, Agla. Just a bit. It’s so beautiful here, and I love the Árbær Museum, and you, and the church and everything. It’s just what it should be.’

‘Ready?’ William asked, standing in the church doorway.

Agla buttoned her jacket and took Elísa’s hand. As the doors opened, they walked together down the church aisle, which echoed with the ABBA song they had agreed was the one that would be played at their wedding.