She dried herself off after showering and stood at the mirror as she blow-dried her hair, wondering how she would feel after the date with Hákon. She was inclined to think that she should feel devious or treacherous, sleeping with him because she also wanted to get a look at his computer. Would she feel like a prostitute, having a motive for jumping into bed with him other than for the pleasure of it?

Hair dried, she applied oil so it gleamed, trimmed her pubic hair short and rubbed coconut cream all over herself. Her skin looked smooth and taut in the mirror as she looked her muscular physique up and down with approval. Why shouldn’t she make use of her looks? Men frequently used the power they had over women, so why shouldn’t a woman do the same? In the bedroom she put on underwear and sat on the bed to paint her toenails dark red. It wasn’t long since her last pedicure, so that would do. But 91her hands were another matter. She searched online for a nail bar that didn’t require a booking. The one she found cost a fortune, but she reckoned she could afford it. It was in a small shopping centre in Hafnarfjörður. Everything seemed to be in Hafnarfjörður these days, she mused, and her thoughts went to the kitchen table in her uncle Daníel’s comfortable flat. Not that he was her uncle.

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38

Olga watched as Omar whisked four eggs with salt and pepper, added a generous handful of oatmeal, and whisked some more.

‘There’s a trick to it,’ he said. ‘Don’t add it to the pan until the oil is properly hot. That way the omelette will be firm and good.’

This had become their weekday morning routine. He cooked eggs in every possible way: scrambled, boiled or he would soak stale bread in egg and fry it in the pan with cinnamon. She had lost weight since he moved in and started cooking every morning, as a solid breakfast meant that by the time lunch came around, she wasn’t particularly hungry and was happy with a light snack.

So much had changed since he had come to her, not least that her outlook on so much had changed. The hard, plastic, brown-and-orange kitchen fittings had been an irritant for years, and she had long hoped to replace them with something more modern as soon as she could afford it. Now she no longer cared, as Omar had declared that the kitchen was absolutely fine, and cleaned it assiduously and fixed the cupboard doors, which had a habit of coming loose. Then there was the gratitude. He was so grateful for everything that she had begun to mentally count up all kinds of insignificant items that she was grateful for, and found that this had made her happier in herself.