He peered into the hall cupboard, which stood open, and saw only coats that belonged to Björn. He clearly liked to look good, as there were at least three leather jackets hung on the rail, a couple of blazers, a wool coat and one of those silver down anoraks that were advertised on the sides of bus shelters and cost a month’s wages. There were no women’s coats, and the new girlfriend had come wearing the same coat she had left in.

There was nothing to be seen in the kitchen, so he went to the bathroom. He was surprised to see that everything was new. He hadn’t been aware of any builders at work, and the last time he had been upstairs for a coffee with Ísafold, the bathroom had been shabby and old – the linoleum on the floor had come adrift in places and the damp had caused the paint to peel from the walls. Now there were grey tiles on the floor and the walls, and the bathtub had been built into the end of the room, with a rim broad enough to sit on to chat with whoever was in the tub. He sat on the edge and imagined himself looking down at Ísafold in a bubble bath, each of them holding a glass of white wine, the hot steam fragrant, and a breast showing through the foam. Her legs were in his lap and he soaped them with care, applying soft gel and lifting a brand new razor. He quickly got to his feet. He wasn’t here to lose himself in daydreams.

In the bathroom cupboards every shelf but one was full of men’s cosmetics. That one other was half bare, just a pink toothbrush, a couple of hair bands, a small make-up compact and a perfume spray. He sniffed the perfume cautiously. His thoughts instantly 115flew southward, as the scent reminded him of tree bark, dry sand, fruits he didn’t know the names of and colourful flowers.