‘Um. Yeah,’ he said, almost like a question, and looked into Áróra’s eyes as if asking what she thought. She hadn’t put her thoughts in order before he got to his feet and padded back to the bathroom. She heard the water run again, and then he stood naked in the bathroom doorway as he drank slowly, as if waiting for her to say something. She watched him, surprised that his eyes no longer shone; instead he seemed despondent, and she gradually 31began to work it out. Her eyes dropped to his feet, where she could see the red rash left by an ankle tag that had clearly only recently been removed.

‘Hákon,’ she said slowly. ‘What’s your father’s name?’

32

13

Grímur hadn’t been aware of the ideas hatching at the back of his mind, but when he noticed Björn, his neighbour from the flat upstairs, through the window of a restaurant downtown, the plan immediately played out in his thoughts. Björn was sitting there with another woman, and Grímur paused to stand and watch for a moment as they looked deep into each other’s eyes, raising their glasses in a toast to each other. The red-gold glow inside the restaurant was warm, welcoming and romantic, while he stood outside in the cold, blue evening light, the sharp northerly wind making him shiver. Three weeks. It hadn’t taken him long to find himself a new one. Three fucking weeks. That was all he needed.

Grímur eyed the woman. She was dark-haired, just like Ísafold, but her face was broader, and she looked to be more cheerful. But Ísafold had also been happy to begin with, when she had just moved into the block and Grímur used to run into her in the corridor. After a while the joy had ebbed away, and she couldn’t hide the desperation behind the forced smile she used to pretend that everything was fine.