Never heard him use that expression. On heat. What was he talking about? She had exchanged a few quick words with Snorri at the basement door, to thank him for returning something she forgot to take from the house where she had been working as a maid; she did not want to invite him in because her husband, who had been peevish all day, said he did not want to see him. Snorri made a joke about the merchant she used to worked for, they laughed and said goodbye.

“It was only Snorri,’’ she said. “Don’t act like that. Why have you been in such a foul mood all day?”

“Are you contradicting me?” he asked, approaching her again. “I saw you through the window. Saw you dancing round him. Like a slut!”

“No, you can’t…”

He hit her in the face again with his clenched fist, sending her flying into the crockery cupboard in the kitchen. It happened so quickly that she did not have time to shield her head with her hands.

“Don’t go lying to me!” he shouted. “I saw the way you were looking at him. I saw you flirting with him! Saw it with my own eyes! You filthy cunt!”

Another expression she heard him use for the first time.

“My God,” she said. Blood trickled into her mouth from her split upper lip. The taste mingled with the salty tears running down her face. “Why did you do that? What have I done?”

He stood over her, poised to attack. His red face burned with wrath. He gnashed his teeth and stamped his foot, then swung round and strode out of the basement. She was left standing there, unable to fathom what had happened.

Later she often thought back to that moment and whether anything would have changed if she had tried to answer his violence immediately by leaving him, walking out on him for good, instead of just finding reasons for self-accusation. She must have done something to produce such a reaction. Something that she might be unaware of, but which he saw, and she could talk to him about it when he came back, promise to make amends and everything would return to normal.