She was almost her twin, just a younger, larger version. She had to be a head taller than Ísafold and with broader shoulders. She had dark-blonde hair, and eyes that were brown and dreamy. There was a serious look to her, while Ísafold always had some neon tint to her hair, as well as a bunch of rings in each ear and one in her nose. The sister seemed to be more down to earth, tastefully dressed and her hair more carefully styled.

Grímur nodded in reply and tugged at the door handle so the key would turn in the lock. Everything in this block of flats had become a little worn, not least his door, so there was a knack to getting it to open and closed.

‘I’m Ísafold’s sister. She lives…’ the woman said, and hesitated for a second before continuing. ‘Or used to live on the second floor, the flat above you.’

‘I remember you,’ he said, sounding more reserved than necessary. ‘That time you came to collect her from my place.’

‘That’s right. I was wondering if you know her at all?’

Grímur felt his heart beat faster in his chest. Did he know Ísafold? He knew her well. Sometimes he was convinced that he knew her considerably better than her husband had. And he definitely knew her better than this sister of hers did.

‘I’ve seen her on the stairs, and once at a residents’ committee meeting. Then there was that time last year, or whenever it was, when you came to collect her. So I know who she is,’ he said. ‘But that’s as far as it goes.’70

He wasn’t going to let this woman know that Ísafold had often sat at his kitchen table and poured her heart out about Björn, often weeping. This was normally on the mornings after he’d heard the worst noise coming from upstairs.

‘Have you seen her recently?’ the woman asked.

There was a beseeching tone in her voice, so for a moment Grímur pitied her, and began to understand what Ísafold had meant when she described how infuriatingly meddlesome her sister could be.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s a while since I last saw her.’

‘Do you remember when exactly that was?’ the woman asked, and the hint of pity he had felt vanished. She was unpleasantly pushy.

‘No,’ he said, sounding more abrupt than he intended. He went to the door and opened it, and to make up for his discourteous reply to her question, he held it open for her.