He had admitted to himself that Áróra had been on his mind a lot over the last few days, but hadn’t realised just how great her effect on him was until he ran into her in the street downtown. It was like a punch in the gut to see her with another man; the pain was physical. She had told him that she had to meet an old friend, so he had taken it on himself to show Violet around the city centre, considering it had been such a long time since her last visit to Iceland. They had a meal together, with ice cream for dessert, and were taking a gentle stroll when a drunk Áróra tumbled out of a restaurant, practically into their arms. As if that wasn’t enough, she was hanging on the arm of one of the country’s most controversial financial criminals, the one the newspapers had reported as having just been released, and she seemed to be having a whale of a time – with no old friend anywhere to be seen. The guy was holding her tight, and she was giggling as she tottered out onto the steps – until she saw her mother, and then him. Of course, he had no idea if seeing him had been a shock to her, but he guessed she didn’t care. She had made it plain that she wasn’t interested in him romantically, but he had taken that as meaning she wasn’t on the lookout for men in general. That had clearly been a misunderstanding on his part.

‘She’s out on the town, while her sister…’ Violet said, struggling to get the words out. ‘While her sister is God knows where.’

They walked silently to the car, but before they got inside, Violet looked like she had put her thoughts in order. He said nothing, unable to say a word. He felt himself burning up with jealousy. He got in the car, started the engine and fiddled with the radio while Violet sat down and put on her seat belt. He should have said something, should have come to Áróra’s defence, something along the lines of people approaching this kind of thing in 171their own way. Some people do it by fending off emotion, immersing themselves in other work, preferably not even thinking about the lost or injured relative, while others meet sorrow head-on and try to get to grips with the situation. But the fire inside stopped him speaking, and anyway, he didn’t want to speak. Although he understood perfectly that Áróra would want to go out and have a drink, he was furious that she should be hanging on another man’s arm. Especially that man.