The masseuse’s strong hands kneaded her hips, and Áróra sighed at the combination of pain and relief. The aroma of incense 64and the relaxing music in the room had an uplifting effect on her, as did the skilled hands that manipulated her body with a warmth and care that she often longed for but rarely allowed herself to enjoy.

Just as the masseuse drew a blanket over her and discreetly retired, and just before Áróra fell asleep on the bench, she decided to look on her trip to Iceland in a new light. She had chosen which thought space she was going to be in. As her drowsiness overwhelmed her, she saw herself walk into the room where Hákon sat and reach out a hand to him, as if she were inviting him to dance. Hákon would be her project: tracing his buried treasure and taking a suitable cut for herself while shaking off the guilt that came from sleeping with him – she hadn’t set out to spy on him, after all.

And while she searched for where Hákon had stashed his wealth, she would dig into Ísafold’s whereabouts, keeping their mother happy and easing her own conscience.

Of course, the uncertainty of what had become of Ísafold troubled her. It occurred to her that Björn could have gone too far, but she didn’t dare pursue that train of thought to its conclusion. She had to take care not to frighten herself. If she let the fear take hold, allowed concerns over Ísafold’s safety to pile up and spent too much time searching for her, by the time her sister appeared at their mother’s place, coffee brown and dressed like a señorita, astonished at the trouble she had caused, Áróra’s fury would be overwhelming.

But that would be nothing compared to the fury Áróra would feel when her sister went dutifully back to Björn, as usual.

65

26

‘Just remember that some men are complete pigs,’ Dad says as he teaches me how to defend myself.

Catch hold of a finger and bend it quickly up against the back of the hand until you hear it crack. Power a heel down onto the instep. Bite an ear until you feel your teeth cut through it. Stick fingers into eyes. A knee to the balls. Use all the power you have. Don’t hesitate. If you hesitate, you’ve lost.

All this came good at the festival in the Westman Islands that Ísafold invited me to when I was sixteen. Her mates from Newcastle were flirting with cool guys and singing along on the slopes of the valley that formed a natural amphitheatre around the stage below. After a while I find Ísafold further up the valley, a little way from the path.