‘No, Salka,’ he said, looking straight at her. ‘It’s best if we deal with this right now. I can take the paperwork with me and hand it in tomorrow.’
‘Give me some more time. Please,’ she said slowly. ‘Let’s give ourselves a chance. We owe it to ourselves.’
Eysteinn looked aside and took a deep breath.
‘Salka. It’s too late. You know how things were. I did everything I could to work things out. I was ready to sacrifice everything to keep us together…’
‘You mean you did all that from your desk at this irreplaceable company that was supposed to provide eternal happiness…’ She fell silent and immediately regretted her words. She wanted to snatch them from the air and stuff them somewhere far out of sight. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and felt the tears welling, ready to roll down her face. ‘I didn’t mean to…’
‘We’ve been through this a hundred times, Salka. You shut yourself away. You didn’t speak to me for weeks on end, months, even. You wouldn’t accept any help, neither for yourself nor for us. You can’t accuse me of not trying. It was tough for both of us. I looked for help. I needed help as well. That’s what I did and at a certain point I had to move on. Move on with my life.’
‘You always blamed me for how things turned out. How was that supposed to help me? You said that out loud more than once, Eysteinn.’
‘Salka, I didn’t come here to argue.’
‘No. Because it was all my fault.’
‘Salka. Stop.’
‘Are you still with … whatever your colleague’s name is … Emily?’
‘Evelyn. Yes. And we’re planning to … you know.’
Salka straightened her back and looked him in the eye.
‘Get married.’
Eysteinn nodded.
Salka said nothing. She opened the envelope and took a pen from the jacket that hung over the back of the chair. She signed her name on several of the sheets of paper and folded them back into the envelope. She pushed it across the table to Eysteinn.
‘I’m so sorry, Salka,’ he said as he stood up. He placed a hand for a moment on her shoulder as he passed. He left the apartment.
She sat motionless and stared out of the window. For the first time in her life, she had found his touch unpleasant. She stood up and dabbed at the tears that continued to flow down her cheeks. Picking up the phone, she recalled the message she had begun to Magnús. She looked at it for a long time.
Then she erased it and wrote a new one.
I’ve been held up. See you in half an hour.
33
‘Dinner is served,’ Magnús said as he carried in the dish of grilled trout, placed it on the table and took a seat facing Salka. He poured white wine into glasses while 'Hotel California' played in the background.
‘Cheers. Great to see you.’
‘Cheers,’ she said, in a drier tone than she had intended, then smiled.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes. Sorry. Just tired.’
‘Understood. It takes its toll. That’s definitely bad news about Skúli. Any idea what happened there?’
‘No. Nothing so far. I’ll check with Óttar in the morning.’
‘And Rafn? No news of him?’
‘No. He’s most likely left town.’
‘I’ve had dealings with him over the years. I can ask around among a few people he knocks around with to see if I can get anything out of them.’
‘That would be much appreciated.’
There had been doubts in her mind all the way, right up to parking the car outside Magnús’s neat detached house, whether she was doing the right thing or not. She had spent a long time gazing at the house. She hadn’t come to a decision, and then Magnús had opened the front door and beckoned her to come in with a smile on his face. She got out of the car and walked to the house.
She had noticed on the way that there was no sign of the police presence she had requested at the Leira junction.
All I know is that residents and travel operators are really unhappy with the checks. There are some massive queues at rush hour, Salka had been told when she called the station. She had meant to speak to Valgeir, but he had already left. She was not kindly disposed towards him.
Once they had eaten, Magnús cleared the crockery from the table, refusing any help from Salka.
‘Is what Pétur said right? That you investigated Hróbjartur when you were down south?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I remember it back when it was all over the papers. Terrible.’
‘What was?’ she asked absently, looking around the living room.
‘That the case was dismissed,’ he said, appearing in the doorway.
‘Well, quite a few of them wriggle out of it that way. There’s a trampoline in the garden,’ Salka said, almost without realising that she had changed the subject.
‘Yes,’ he said and was silent for a moment. ‘I have a daughter who’s thirteen. She visits sometimes.’
‘Were you in a relationship?’
‘Yes and no,’ he said and disappeared back into the kitchen. ‘It was a short one. It was sort of … accidental.’
Salka noticed a picture of the two of them in which the girl looked to be around five years old. She picked up another picture and examined it. The faded photo was of a smiling couple of around thirty. They sat on a blanket that had been spread over grass somewhere in the countryside. A lad with a serious look on his face sat between them.
‘Is that you?’ she said, glancing towards the kitchen. She was startled to find Magnús standing behind her.
‘Yes. That’s Mum, and Dad. They’re both dead.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said, catching his eye. ‘Long ago?’
‘Five years,’ he said, thoughtfully.
‘Both of them?’
‘Yes. One soon after the other.’
Salka sensed that he wasn’t comfortable talking about this.
‘How old are you there?’ she asked, looking back at the picture.
‘Fourteen.’
‘You don’t look like you’re bursting with joy there,’ she laughed.
‘True. I don’t remember why I was so sulky. Maybe just being a moody teen.’
‘Somehow I think I’ve seen that look before,’ she said, looking carefully at the youthful face.
‘Is that so?’ he asked, taking the picture from her hands and putting it in its place. ‘Come on. There’s something I want to show you.’
He took her hand and led her out onto the decking.
‘That’s quite something,’ she said, catching sight of the steam rising from the hot tub in the corner, sheltered by windbreaks. ‘You’ve certainly made an effort.’
Magnús had placed a tray of champagne, cheese and grapes by the side of the hot tub. The light that emanated from the outdoor candle was in a corner of the windbreak, where it was overshadowed by the evening brightness, failing to provide the romantic atmosphere he had tried to conjure up.
‘I didn’t bring a swimming costume with me,’ she said, unsure how to react. ‘Ach. I’m sorry. I really don’t want to spoil the moment, but I hadn’t intended to drink either. I need to be up early.’
She went over to him and reached out, touching his cheek and meaning to run her fingers through his hair. She was taken aback as he withdrew from her.
‘Yes, I know,’ he said seriously. ‘Me too. I’m sorry. Trying too hard, maybe.’
‘No, not at all. It’s very romantic … and tempting,’ she smiled.
‘Let’s leave the champagne out. I thought you’d enjoy the heat and it would freshen you up.’ Their eyes met. ‘It’ll do you good,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You can use my trunks and I’ll find myself something.’
Salka stood on the decking, perched on the edge of the hot tub and dipped her fingers in the water.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ she asked, taking the clothes Magnús brought her. When she returned, he was already in the water.
>
‘These trunks are on the large side,’ she said, trying to sound casual.
She lowered herself cautiously into the water to allow herself to get used to the heat.
‘I decided to allow myself a small one,’ he said, holding a champagne flute. ‘Sure you won’t have a drop?’
‘Just a drop,’ she said, wrinkling her nose and holding up a hand, a narrow gap between thumb and forefinger.
They sat in silence for a while and Salka felt a wave of wellbeing pass through her.
‘So how did you get on at the river?’ she asked.
‘Finished at lunchtime today. I’ll show you,’ he said, picking up his phone from where it lay under a towel. ‘I hooked this one the day you left,’ he said, scrolling through the pictures.
Some showed fish lying on the grass next to the reel to show the size. He had also used the camera to take pictures of himself holding fish, and Salka noticed that he held the catch out, away from his body, a common way of making the fish look bigger.
‘This one was on Saturday evening. A real battle and I was in trouble with this one.’
‘How so?’ she asked, pretending to be excited.
‘I went flat on my face. Caught on film,’ he said, handing her the phone.
He had selected a video sequence that began as he walked along the bank of the unruffled river, the lens directed at it. Fish jumped here and there. Then there was a sudden whirl of grass and sky, and Magnús cursing.
‘What happened there?’ Salka asked.
‘Tripped and fell. Banged my head on a rock, and have a swelling to show for it, pulled a muscle and picked up a scratch,’ he said standing up. He pulled his trunks down an inch and showed her a red wheal above his hip bone.
‘It’s a dangerous sport. You were lucky to survive,’ she laughed, and was rewarded with a splash of hot water.
They spent more than an hour in the hot tub and she knew that if the body language had been right, Magnús would have taken the opportunity to move closer, to touch her, kiss her. It hadn’t escaped her notice that this was what he would have wanted, but she didn't allow him an opening to make a move.
It wasn’t until they emerged from the water and stood by the bathroom door that he put his arms around her, kissed her and led her to the bedroom.
‘You’ve been a bit distant. Are you sure you’re all right?’ he asked as they lay naked side by side.
‘You think so?’ She mulled it over. She felt that she had forgotten herself, caught up in the moment. She had listened to the voice. Hadn’t she? Now she was having doubts. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot on my plate at the moment.’
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
She looked at him and she didn’t feel that she had nodded agreement. But she must have done, as he kissed her long and passionately, and rolled on top of her.
Salka was startled from sleep by the sound of something hitting the window. She cautiously slipped from the bed, moved the curtain aside and peered out. A blackbird lay motionless on the grass.
She put on a white shirt that belonged to Magnús and went outside. She could feel the chill nibble at her skin and gooseflesh appeared on her legs, even though the sun was already high in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.
She tiptoed to the back of the house and looked down at the bird, which looked to be dead. Another blackbird chirped raucously in a nearby tree. Salka wondered if they were a pair.
She picked up the blackbird and held it in her hands. Suddenly it came to life. It looked around as if trying to work out what had happened, shook itself, straightened its feathers and flew away.
It vanished into the distance.
Salka smiled to herself and went back inside. She glanced into the bedroom where Magnús was snoring softly.
She went to the bedroom, dressed and went to the kitchen where her jacket was. Checking her phone, she saw only fourteen percent battery capacity remained, and she remembered that there was no charger cable in the car. She opened a few kitchen drawers, but no cable was to be seen.
She remembered seeing an open door next to the bathroom, and a computer and printer. In the little room she looked around, and opened the top desk drawer. Nothing.
She opened the next drawer down.
A matt folder lay there in front of her. It was closed with bands stretched over the corners.
Salka picked it up.
She glanced out into the corridor as she heard a movement. She watched for a long time, and then looked again at the folder. Even though the cover was matt plastic, she could more or less make out the image beneath it. She slipped the bands off and opened the folder.
She looked at the sheet of paper at the top of the pile.
It was an article cut from a newspaper.
She was about to leaf through the pages when she heard movement, and quickly replaced the folder as it had been.
34
Tuesday 26th August 2014
Salka sat in the jeep. She couldn’t get the sight of the article out of her mind. She was startled when someone tapped on the side window.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to take you by surprise,’ Magnús said, standing by the car in his dressing gown. ‘You’re off? You don’t want some breakfast?’
‘No. I need to get myself to the station. Thanks all the same,’ she smiled.
‘No problem. I’ll let you know if I hear anything about Rafn.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, and pulled away.
She was close to the Leira junction when she noticed a red car coming the other way at speed. The car took the Leira road and for a second she saw the driver’s face. It was Rafn. He put his foot down on the straight stretch of road crossing Eyjafjörður.
Salka followed. In the mirror she noticed a black Skoda Fabia with a flashing light on its dashboard catching up with her. It was still some distance away and she couldn’t see the driver.
She put her foot down when she realised that Rafn’s car was gaining distance, overtaking another car. He swerved back across the road, narrowly missing a car coming the other way.
Experience told her that it was better to maintain a distance so as not to cause an even more dangerous situation.
Although Salka was driving at 120 kilometres per hour, the Skoda hurtled past her. Another car was coming the other way and she had to brake sharply to let the Skoda onto the right side of the road. A collision had been avoided by a hair’s breadth.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ she said out loud, having recognised Gísli behind the wheel.
She again put her foot down, picked up her phone and called, but Gísli wasn’t answering. She swore to herself as the phone pinged an alert, telling her the battery was almost dead.
Rafn shot past the turnoff for Eyjafjörður. The road curved to the right at the bottom of the fjord and Salka could see Rafn manoeuvring to overtake again. This time a truck coming the other way was forced onto the gravel verge to avoid a crash. Rafn snatched the car back across to his lane, and just managed to keep it on the road. The wheels on the nearside churned a cloud of dust from the loose gravel at the side of the road. Rafn swerved back onto the tarmac, and seemed to lose control as the rear end of the car lurched to one side. In a flash, the car twisted so that it was side on and spun into the air. As it hit the ground it rolled more times than Salka could count and finished up off the road. Salka saw the windscreen shatter, the shards scattered like diamonds as they caught the sunshine.
Salka pulled up on the verge and ran. She saw Gísli hurrying towards where Rafn’s car had come to rest on its roof, next to a line of bushes. She saw him look into the car, and then step back from it.
‘How is he?’ she asked as she stopped next to Gísli, standing over Rafn, motionless on the grass.
‘I don’t know,’ he said in confusion.
‘Call an ambulance,’ she ordered, opening the medical kit she had brought from the jeep. She crouched down on all fours next to him and looked carefully at
Rafn’s pale, blood-streaked face. There were pieces of glass embedded in his forehead and she didn’t dare move them. There was a deep cut to his neck. She pressed a dressing to the wound and held it closed with her fingers.
She gently slapped Rafn’s cheeks, called his name and was relieved when he came to.
‘Where am I?’ he asked, his voice faint.
‘You’re all right,’ she assured him, checking his eyes, which were dazed. ‘Look at me, Rafn.’
‘What happened?’ he asked, trying to look around, and coughing so that blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.
‘Nothing happened. Just take it easy. Look at me. No, no. Don’t close your eyes,’ she said as Rafn’s eyelids drooped as if he were about to fall asleep. ‘You’ll be fine. But you’ll have to be strong.’
‘Do you have the diary?’
‘Diary?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Anton’s diary?’ she asked after a moment’s thought.
‘I need it. He mustn’t take it…’ Rafn slurred, his eyes closing.
‘Rafn!’ Salka called, listening for his breath.
She looked up at the road, where a row of cars had pulled up. She saw Gísli stretching to reach something inside Rafn’s car.
‘He mustn’t have it,’ Rafn muttered, squeezing Salka’s hand.
‘Who mustn’t have it?’ Salka asked, crouching close to him.
Rafn was about to say something, but couldn’t. She saw a patch of blood had formed on his white shirt and was spreading. She gingerly pulled his shirt away and saw an open wound in his belly. Both of his trouser legs were tattered and bloody.
‘Keep back!’ she heard Gísli shout.
She looked up to see a middle-aged man trotting towards her with a case in his hands.
‘I’m a doctor!’ the man yelled back, and he asked Salka to move aside as he dropped to his knees next to her and looked Rafn over. ‘Doesn’t look good,’ he muttered, after checking the neck injury, and asked Salka to put pressure on it. He gently moved Rafn’s head from side to side and listened to his breathing.
The doctor took scissors from his case and Salka watched as he snipped at Rafn’s clothes.
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