‘Understood,’ Áróra said, but she didn’t understand. The last she had heard from Ísafold was that things were getting better between them, that Björn was making a real effort, that they would be going to a counsellor. But that had been a year and a half ago, and now it was six months since Ísafold had cut any communication by blocking her on Facebook.

‘When did you last see her, Ebbi?’

‘About three weeks ago,’ he said, and thought for a moment. ‘Exactly three weeks ago this weekend, at Mum’s place. We were all there for dinner. Ísafold seemed unhappy to me, or maybe under the weather. She lay down on the sofa after dinner and slept for the rest of the evening. Strange for someone who always made a point of helping Mum with the dishes and stuff.’

‘And you’ve no idea where she might be now?’ Áróra asked. ‘I’m not asking so I can go and make life difficult for her. But I need something to put my mother’s mind at rest. She’s worried sick with not hearing from her.’

Ebbi shook his head, and again Áróra saw the concern in his eyes.49

‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t a clue. If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.’

Ebbi got to his feet and Áróra did the same.

When she couldn’t find Ísafold anywhere else, she had been sure she would be at Ebbi’s place, as she had taken refuge from Björn with him in the past. It had seemed so obvious – she would have gone to Ebbi’s house and hidden herself away in his spare bedroom while she made up her mind whether to run away to England or go back to Björn. But now Áróra seemed to be out of options.

She had spoken to one of Ísafold’s neighbours, who hadn’t seen her for three weeks; she had enquired at the hospital; she had tried to talk to Björn, and now she had spoken to Ebbi. Nobody seemed to have any idea what had become of Ísafold.

In the car she called her mother to give her an update.

‘Go and talk to your uncle Daníel,’ her mother said. ‘He’s a detective, so he ought to know how to track people down.’

‘Hang on. You mean I have a relative who’s a cop?’ Áróra said in hurt surprise. ‘Then why on earth didn’t you go straight to him, instead of sending me to Iceland to play at being a private eye?’

‘But isn’t that what you are – a private detective?’

‘Mum, I’m a private financial investigator. I track down money, not people. I don’t even know where to start.’

‘Well, whatever,’ her mother said, her classic move to change the subject. ‘I’ll give Daníel a call and ask him to help.’