‘You’re nervous,’ he said.
Agla shook her head.
‘No,’ she said, taking the hand sanitiser from her bag and rubbing some into her palms.
‘That’s the third time you’ve disinfected your hands,’ William laughed. ‘You really are nervous.’
Hearing footsteps in the gravel, they looked up and saw María coming towards them. Her limp was obvious, but otherwise she looked well. Agla left William to enjoy his third cigarette by the church wall and went towards her.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, offering María her hand.
‘I was surprised to get your invitation,’ María said, breathless from the walk from the car park and through the cluster of old buildings that formed the Árbær Museum. ‘Didn’t you see the Spotlight documentary?’
‘Sure,’ Agla said, ‘It’s not as if I had any reputation to lose, so it could hardly do me any harm. It’s worse for poor Ingimar.’
‘I don’t feel sorry for him,’ María said. ‘Who would have imagined he was smuggling drugs as well?’
‘He was fitted up by his nephew,’ Agla said. ‘That’s what my sources at Hólmsheiði say, and they’re reliable.’
‘Serves him right, all the same. I hope he rots behind bars,’ María said, her mind clearly made up. ‘But congratulations!’ she added in a happier tone, leaning forwards to kiss Agla’s cheek.
‘Thanks,’ Agla said. ‘And congratulations on the new job. Berlingske Tidende, isn’t it? Not bad at all.’
‘It’s great. There wasn’t much left of The Squirrel, and I’m overjoyed to be leaving this miserable, corrupt island run by a lousy old boys’ network.’
They were at the church doors now. Agla introduced María to William, who immediately started to flirt, much to María’s displeasure. She seemed to have instantly worked out who he was – she had studied him in detail for the Spotlight documentary – but William was obviously yet to make the connection.
What was so strange was that when Elísa had asked if there were any of her family she would like to invite, there was nobody who came to mind, and after thinking it over, Agla had decided that on a day like this she preferred to have around her the people who really knew her. She didn’t care that these people might not like her, as long as they knew the real Agla. So she mentioned María and William, and Elvar the lawyer. Elísa happily wrote their names on the sheet of paper, in a column marked Agla’s friends. The column marked Elísa’s friends was packed with names and could have been longer, but the whole crowd was unlikely to appear. Only a few people could be seen in the church. Elísa’s father was there, sitting on the front pew, along with her brother.
‘There’ll be coffee and pancakes afterwards in the café,’ Agla said, again helping herself to hand sanitiser. Her palms were sweating badly.
‘Very Icelandic,’ William said. ‘Except there’s no alcohol.’
He was quite right that it was all very much according to tradition. She would have been satisfied with a visit to the Sheriff’s representative at the prison, but as far as Elísa was concerned, the only option was this old-fashioned little church, with herself in national dress.
‘And can Elísa stay for the coffee afterwards?’ María asked.
Agla nodded.
‘Yes, she has two hours’ parole, with an escort.’
‘You didn’t want to wait?’ María asked. ‘I mean until she’s released?’
It was an awkward question that Agla didn’t want to answer, but considering it was María, who already knew everything about her, she went ahead.
‘No. We’re doing it now because she’s pregnant.’
‘Oh.’ There was no mistaking that this was not the answer María had expected.
‘We don’t know who the father is, so Elísa wants me to be mum. Or rather, the other mum. She’ll have the baby with her to start with, and then I’ll take it while she finishes her sentence. I know nothing about children, but it’ll work out.’
‘Of course it will,’ María said, placing a hand on her back. ‘But what’s in it for you?’ she asked. ‘You once told me that you never do anything unless somehow or other there was something in it for you. That means love as well? Not just nuts-and-bolts stuff?’
Agla smiled.
‘People change,’ she said. ‘I’ve extricated myself from a lot of business. Even you wouldn’t find me linked to anything shady now.’
María’s eyes widened.
‘That’s a big change!’ she said. ‘What came over you?’
‘Love,’ Agla said. ‘That’s what’s in it for me.’
As the words passed her lips, she saw the car approach around the corner of the workshop, one of the old buildings that had become part of the museum. She had expected it would come from the other direction, but it was just like Elísa to arrive from where she was least expected. William hurried into the church to let the priest know, and Agla put on her jacket.
Ewa, Sigurgeir and Guðrún all got out of the car. It wasn’t something Agla had thought about, but now it looked as if Elísa was some kind of highly dangerous gangster who deserved an escort of three warders. Agla had made sure to invite the three prison staff they both knew, in the hope that it might make visiting Elísa smoother – a wedding softened every heart. Elísa stepped out of the car, a broad smile on her face, and Agla again dropped a silent word of thanks for this beautiful August day.
Elísa’s hair had been simply done, hanging loose and with a dianthus in it, and the national costume suited her perfectly. Agla had tried to buy it, but the old woman in the hire shop had flatly refused to sell. One day she would have a traditional costume made for Elísa, who had said that these were the smartest clothes she had ever seen.
‘Hæ,’ Elísa said, and kissed her.
‘Hæ,’ Agla said. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘You too,’ Elísa said, and Agla felt a moment’s discomfort. She had done nothing special; she had simply bought herself a new suit. These were the only clothes she felt at home in. But she had been to the hairdresser to get her hair and make-up fixed so that she would look respectable for the pictures that Elísa had been adamant ought to be taken so the child could look at them one day; and to show the girls at Hólmsheiði too, of course.
‘Are you happy?’ Agla whispered to her.
Elísa skipped in excitement.
‘Shit, Agla. Just a bit. It’s so beautiful here, and I love the Árbær Museum, and you, and the church and everything. It’s just what it should be.’
‘Ready?’ William asked, standing in the church doorway.
Agla buttoned her jacket and took Elísa’s hand. As the doors opened, they walked together down the church aisle, which echoed with the ABBA song they had agreed was the one that would be played at their wedding.
‘Take a chance on me.’
Acknowledgements
Getting a book that was first written in the ancient and archaic Icelandic language into the hands of an English reader is not a simple task. It takes many people, each a specialist in their own field, whereas the writer’s role during this process is mostly to watch in awe and excitement.
I feel very lucky that my work has reached the English-speaking world and there are quite a few people I want to thank for making this happen.
The person who has been key to making my story available in English is, of course, my translator, Quentin Bates, one of the 340,000 speakers of the Icelandic language. My warmest thanks go to him; our collaboration has been a joy.
I also want to thank my publisher, Karen Sullivan, and her wonderful team at Orenda Books. I feel very privileged that my books are part of the catalogue of such an amazing independent publisher who has such a good eye for quality. Every writer needs to feel they have their publisher’s support, and I can say I have always felt cherished at Orenda.
Editing a translated book is no easy task and sometimes requires assuming the role of diplomat, a position my editor, West Camel, has managed superbly. I wa
nt to thank him for all of his support, kindness and help.
I also want to thank Mark Swan for the striking cover designs for Snare, Trap and now Cage, which make my books stand out on the shelf. I am one writer who is very proud to have her books judged by their covers.
Thank you also to all the journalists and bloggers who have taken the time to read and write about the previous two books. It is very comforting to know that Cage will be welcomed and given a fair chance to prove itself by such a book-loving crowd.
Finally my thanks go to the readers who have stuck with my story throughout the trilogy, who have rooted for the characters, questioned their motives and enjoyed the ride. I hope you find Cage a satisfying end to the tale.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Icelandic crime-writer Lilja Sigurðardóttir was born in the town of Akranes in 1972 and raised in Mexico, Sweden, Spain and Iceland. An award-winning playwright, Lilja has written four crime novels, with Snare, the first in the Reykjavík Noir series, hitting bestseller lists worldwide. Trap was published in 2018, and was a Guardian Book of the Year. In 2018, Cage won Icelandic Crime Novel of the Year. The film rights for the series have been bought by Palomar Pictures in California. Lilja lives in Reykjavík with her partner.
Follow Lilja:
Twitter: @lilja1972
Instagram: www.instagram.com/sigurdardottirlilja/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sigurdardottir.lilja
Website: www.liljawriter.com
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Quentin Bates escaped English suburbia as a teenager, jumping at the chance of a gap year working in Iceland. For a variety of reasons, the gap year stretched to a gap decade, during which time he went native in the north of Iceland, acquiring a new language, a new profession as a seaman, and a family, before decamping en masse to England. He worked as a truck driver, teacher, netmaker and trawlerman at various times before falling into journalism, largely by accident. He is the author of a series of crime novels set in present-day Iceland (Frozen Out, Cold Steal, Chilled to the Bone, Winterlude, Cold Comfort and Thin Ice) which have been published worldwide. He has translated all of Ragnar Jónasson’s Dark Iceland series. Visit him on Twitter @graskeggur or on his website: graskeggur.com
Copyright
Orenda Books
16 Carson Road
West Dulwich
London SE21 8HU
www.orendabooks.co.uk
First published in Icelandic as Búrið by Forlagid in 2017
First published in English by Orenda Books in 2019
Copyright © Lilja Sigurðardóttir, 2017
English translation copyright © Quentin Bates, 2019
Lilja Sigurðardóttir has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–1–912374–49–6
eISBN 978–1–912374–50–2
The publication of this translation has been made possible through the financial support of
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