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said, ‘Welcome to Siglufjördur.’
    The fjord greeted them with the oppressive grey of an overcast day. Cloud and squalls hid the ring of mountains, preventing it from showing off its full magnificence. The roofs of the town’s houses were rendered dull by the gloom and a light covering of snow lay over its gardens.
    Odd stalks of grass stuck their heads defiantly out of the snow,refusing to accept that winter had arrived, while the mountains towered overwhelmingly high above them.
    ‘You think it’s going to be a heavy winter?’ Ari Thór asked, as if he needed to reassure himself that there were brighter prospects ahead. Maybe this was just a particularly drab day?
    Tómas laughed at the newcomer’s question and answered in his deep bass voice, ‘Every winter is a heavy winter in Siglufjördur, my friend.’
    There weren’t many people to be seen and there was little traffic. It was approaching midday; Ari Thór expected there to be more activity during the lunch hour.
    ‘Very quiet here,’ he said to break the silence. ‘I suppose the financial crash is going to affect you up here just the same as the rest of us?’
    ‘Crash? There’s nothing like that here. The crash belongs in Reykjavík and it won’t stretch up north. We’re too far away,’ Tómas said as they drove into the square in the centre of town. ‘We missed out on the boom years up here in Siglufjördur, so the crash doesn’t worry us either.’
    ‘Same here,’ Ari Thór said. ‘There weren’t many boom years for students.’
    ‘If there’s a recession here, it comes from the sea,’ Tómas continued. ‘This place hummed with activity in the old days, before the herring disappeared. There aren’t that many people here these days, something like twelve or thirteen hundred.’
    ‘Not many speeding tickets here, I suppose? There don’t seem to be many cars.’
    ‘Listen here,’ Tómas said solemnly, his voice becoming grave. ‘This job isn’t about handing out tickets. Quite the opposite. This is a small community and we’re more than the local coppers. It’s more about handing out as few tickets as you can! You’ll find out soon enough that we work very differently from down south. It’s a tight-knit community. Don’t worry, you’ll learn.’
    Tómas drove along the main street, Adalgata, which was dottedwith small restaurants, shops and some venerable houses that looked as if they still had occupants.
    ‘Your place is down there a little way to the left, on Eyrargata,’ Tómas said, pointing the way without taking his eyes off the road. ‘I’ll take you past the station first, so you can get a sense of what’s where.’
    He took a turn to the right, and then right again, into Gránargata, which ran parallel to Adalgata, and slowed down.
    ‘You want to take a look, or do you want to go home first?’ He asked amiably.
    Home?
    That discomfort again, claustrophobia and homesickness. Would he really be able to see this strange place with its impressive fjord as home? His thoughts flashed back to what Kristín would be doing right now, in Reykjavík. Home .
    ‘I suppose I’d best make myself at home,’ he said, suppressing a gulp.
    Moments later Tómas parked the car in Eyrargata outside a house that stood in a tight knot of other imposing houses dating back a generation or more.
    ‘I hope this’ll suit you, at least to start with. The town bought this place a few years ago and it hasn’t been looked after as well as it might have been, although it’s mostly the outside that needs some attention. It should be comfortable enough. It’s been up for sale for ages. It’s far too big for you, but maybe your girlfriend will move north as well at some point. It’s perfect for a big family,’ Tómas said with a grin.
    Ari Thór tried to smile back.
    ‘You don’t get a car but, believe me, in a place like this you won’t need one,’ Tómas added. ‘When you need to go down south one of us will run you over to