by Grant Nicol
‘Hi, Ylfa. Your father’s out with Leppatuska but he should be back soon. He was going to wait for you to show but decided it might be tomorrow before you did.’
I smiled briefly at his humorous comment and told him I’d be in the stables with the four-legged members of the family. Leppatuska, who was out with Dad, and Magga were the mares in the stables and Alvari and Farfús the stallions. They were all my little darlings and I loved coming to see them more than I enjoyed the rest of the family. Much more, in fact.
It would have been nearly impossible to pick a favourite amongst them but since Magga had been named after our mother, Margrét, she was perhaps a little more special than the others. After a quick hello and a nuzzle from each of them I heard what could only possibly have been Dad approaching the stables. He appeared to be demanding to know from Jóhannes where his typically unpunctual daughter was. As usual, when he thought that it was just the two of them speaking alone, he utilised some fairly colourful language. After being directed inside he mumbled something incoherent, dismounted and walked into the stables to see me.
‘I was starting to think you’d only been joking when you said you were coming today. It’s almost dinner-time. If I didn’t know any better I would suggest you may have been entertaining a man last night and that’s why I’ve been forgotten.’
He smiled slightly; he was very talented at amusing himself with imaginary tales of my personal life. I had never given him any reason to believe such things but he seemed to have figured it out all by himself. Maybe I took after my mother. Giving me a hard time was something he never seemed to tire of. A simple man of simple pleasures.
‘Of course, there must be a much more palatable explanation than that,’ he continued.
‘I was out with Elín last night if you must know.’
Dad shook his head in disgust.
‘You should know better than to spend too much time around that one,’ as he liked to refer to his eldest child. ‘She only ever has the best interests of one person on her mind.’
He certainly had a point there but I wasn’t keen to linger on that particular subject.
‘Which ones do you want us to take out now?’ I said nodding in the general direction of the horses. He gestured rather dismissively at the two stallions so I quickly got to work saddling Alvari and Farfús for him.
As soon as I was done we set off out past Jóhannes and Leppatuska towards the trails that we used to exercise the horses. He already had her saddle off and was giving her a vigorous brushing, which she looked as though she was thoroughly enjoying. I let Dad take the lead and choose which path we were going to follow. The rain we had been getting over the last few days had left the ground soft and dotted with puddles.
Dad remained silent for the first half-mile or so, not an uncommon way for him to be. It made it difficult to tell if he was upset, tired or just enjoying the peace and quiet that the open spaces brought him. He had always preferred the fresh air of the countryside to the noise of city life.
The clusters of short trees and the small volcanic hills that dotted the region meant that within minutes of setting off neither the stables nor the house were visible any longer. A couple of twists and turns and they had simply disappeared. It was suddenly as if we had always been riding through the middle of a lush-looking wasteland comprised of moss-covered rocks and the loose black soil that those very rocks would eventually become. You would struggle to find a more beautiful-looking wasteland anywhere else in the world.
Finally, the silence was broken. Either Dad had determined that I had suffered sufficiently for my sins or his mind had been allowed to empty to the point where it now needed to be filled once more with conversation.
‘So what did you and your sister have to talk about then?’
‘Dad, I only met up with her to make sure that she’s still coming to see Kristjana play on Thursday night.’ That was something of a lie. I had been meaning to but had completely forgotten to mention it to her. What we had really talked about, however, wasn’t going to be brought up during this conversation.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about coming along? She’d love to see you there.’
I had to try once more even though I already knew it to be a lost cause.
He waved his hand again as if by doing so he could swat the question away as if it were a fly.
‘I haven’t changed my mind. This is as close as I intend getting to that place.’
He was not a fan of Reykjavík or its denizens by any stretch of the imagination and even though he lived no more than a twenty-minute drive from the place, he no longer set foot there. He thought it had changed too much over the years and was no longer the way he had once liked it. Expecting him to accompany us to the sparkling glass-walled concert hall that now sat overlooking the harbour was always going to be a long shot. But as the sole remaining conduit between the two generations of the family it was one I was expected to attempt. At least I could tell Kristjana I had tried. She would be disappointed but I don’t think she had ever realistically expected him to come. If she had been genuinely concerned about his attendance she would have come to see him herself. The only thing the two of them had in common any more was their lack of interest in each other.
‘I thought I’d cook tonight. I bought some dinner for us on the way over,’ I said, suddenly remembering the fish I had left in the back of the car. Luckily, it would still be the same temperature as when I had purchased it, such was the chill in the air. Winter had started to sink its claws into the land, slowly at first but its grip was tightening all the time.
Most of the standing water around the riding trails had either begun to freeze or had already done so. The streams we passed moved too freely to seal over even in the middle of winter. They would only gather lips of ice at their edges.
After about half an hour the wind began to pick up and I wished I’d remembered to put some gloves on. Tiny dots of ice had started to fall like tiny frozen beads from the sky, twisting and turning in an icy circular dance in front of us. I suggested we turn back to the stables. It was freezing cold and I was getting hungry.
‘Maybe Jóhannes could join us for dinner.’
No reply.
‘I’ll ask him when we get back, then,’ I added.
There was still no reply forthcoming so I took that as compliance. I had been looking forward to spending the evening alone with Dad but was starting to worry that we might struggle to find anything much to talk about. He seemed to be lost in thought, his mind otherwise occupied with one thing or another.
Once we had returned the horses to their stalls I told Jóhannes that I was cooking dinner and that he was more than welcome to join us. He said he would just as soon as he’d cleaned himself up so I rescued the fish from the car and headed into the house to start cooking.
Dad parked himself in his favourite chair in the living room and watched the news with the volume at a level that made me suspect he was losing his hearing. It was entirely possible that there were occasions when he could no longer hear me when I spoke to him. It was also possible that he simply chose when these moments occurred to suit his mood.
It wasn’t long before the fish and boiled potatoes were almost ready and Jóhannes still hadn’t made an appearance. I left Dad cursing the stupidity of various figures in Icelandic public office and headed around the back of the house to find Jóhannes. When Dad had taken him on as a stable hand he had built a small cabin-like flat just behind the stables for him to live in. Although a separate structure in its own right, it was no bigger than a tiny studio apartment but it gave him a completely self-contained room and ensured that the two of them didn’t get under each other’s feet any more than was necessary.
When I knocked I could hear music blaring from inside so I decided to stick my head in. I opened the door slightly, calling out as I did so. Through the gap I could see him standing next to his bed getting dressed. He had his back to me and was still oblivious to my p
resence. He was wearing his underwear and nothing else. He suddenly sensed me behind him and turned around but not before I had noticed the distinctive crisscross markings of old scars across his lower back.
I pretended I hadn’t seen a thing and told him that his dinner was almost on the table. The marks certainly weren’t recent and could have been remnants of his foster days or even earlier. Either way they were no business of mine and I tried to put them out of my mind as I scurried back to the kitchen.
I don’t think that Dad had even noticed my absence but the smells from the pan were certainly starting to get his attention. Jóhannes timed his arrival perfectly, I handed him two plates as he walked through the front door into the kitchen and he dropped Dad’s off at the dining table. The silence that enveloped the room was a sign I had done my job well.
‘This fish is actually quite good, Ylfa. It makes me wonder why you’ve avoided getting married for so long. Jóhannes, don’t you think she’s ready to find herself a husband?’
Jóhannes smiled uncomfortably at me and kept eating. His blushes suggested that perhaps something of the sort had indeed crossed his mind.
Talk of marriage and grandchildren had become standard fare at my father’s table. He probably thought that in old-fashioned Icelandic fashion all three of his girls would have given him grandchildren to play with by now but instead he hadn’t even seen one. For someone of his generation the situation must have seemed quite unthinkable.
‘No such luck, Dad. I’m still looking for the right one.’
‘You’ve been doing nothing but look for as long as I can remember. It’s about time you do what is expected of you and choose one that will give you as little trouble as possible.’
‘Now that you put it like that, I can hardly wait to get started.’
Dad didn’t appreciate the sarcasm and he scratched his beard as he looked at me.
‘You could always move back here and stop throwing your money away in that city.’
Another of his favourite subjects was the wholly imaginary day when I finally came to my senses and moved back in with him. Once he had brought either of these subjects up it was hard to see any light at the end of the tunnel. He seemed to think that by simple repetition I would start seeing things his way. It was incomprehensible to him that I might just be happy the way I was.
‘This is a great place to bring up kids. You know that already. You can have the place when I’m gone and raise a family here. You don’t want to grow old on your own, do you?’
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that one so I just let it go. We went back to eating in silence until everyone’s plate was wiped clean.
‘Does anyone want any coffee?’ I chirped.
I got up and made my way back to the kitchen. Jóhannes signalled that he did and I knew that Dad would without him even having to reply.
Jóhannes pulled some crumpled envelopes out of one of his pockets and tried his best to straighten them out before putting them on the table for my father to look at.
‘These came for you today. Sorry I forgot to give you them earlier,’ Jóhannes said.
He collected the plates and joined me in the kitchen. From the living room I could hear the envelopes being opened and some indecipherable muttering taking place. As I ran some water for the coffee I looked over my shoulder to see what it was that had irked my father so. He was screwing a piece of paper up and stuffing it into one of his pockets.
The rest of the envelopes he simply threw across the room before returning to his chair and fixating on the television once again.
Jóhannes shrugged his shoulders and rinsed the plates off in the sink. It seemed he had got completely used to my father’s moods. People could get used to all manner of things if they wanted to, no matter how disagreeable. It was just a matter of familiarity and repetition. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing, though. Sometimes I just wanted to slap some sense into him.
CHAPTER 3
I had originally toyed with the idea of staying the night and driving home the next day but after dinner it became obvious that Dad would be happier if everyone just left him alone. So that’s just what we did.
On my way back to Vesturgata I sent a text to Baldvin informing him that if he showed up in half an hour he could have his way with me. He hadn’t so much as sent a cheeky message all day and I guessed that deep down I appreciated being given a little space. I quite liked being left alone; it was entirely possible that I wasn’t that dissimilar to my father after all.
As I parked the car on Vesturgata in the pouring rain that had just rolled in off Faxaflói Bay, my phone rang. I answered it expecting that Baldvin had either finally succumbed and given me a call now he knew he was wanted, or worse still he was calling to tell me he couldn’t make it after all. As it happened it was neither of those scenarios. It was my drunken hate-fuelled sister calling to vent her bitterness at someone. Somehow in the constant confusion that was her life she had mistaken me for someone who cared. I had hoped that after such a long period of ignoring me completely our recent meeting had been something of a one off. No such luck.
What I wanted to avoid was contact between the two of us becoming a habit again. I could still remember the days when Elín had been a constant part of my life and didn’t want them revisited. I had a strong urge to hang up on her but knew that it would be better to hear her out. Trying to snub her would only vex her into a state of unbelievable determination.
‘I’m just a toy he takes out of its box every now and then, but only when the other kids aren’t looking. You know?’
If she’d made an attempt at a greeting I must have missed it. There was a noise that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a gurgle. She sounded as though she was drowning in a sea of vodka and still trying to see the funny side of it as the waves washed over her head.
‘He buys me lots of stuff but it’s not the same...’
I was tempted to ask her what exactly it wasn’t the same as but she would only have told me.
‘The car, this dress, even the fucking house is his.’
That urge to hang up and deal with the consequences later raised its head again in an attempt to get my attention. Perhaps foolishly, I ignored it once more.
‘Do you know what they think about when they’re fucking us?’
I told her that I didn’t. It was the truth. I had no idea, nor did I really wish to.
‘I bet the only time that he thinks about me is when he’s screwing his wife,’ she spouted triumphantly.
‘What is it you want, Elín?’
‘I want away from this awful place. Once you’ve made a mistake here it’s just going to keep showing up over and over again.’
‘I already know that. I mean, what do you want now? Why did you call?’
My question hung between us unanswered before she gurgled once more and then hung up. Maybe she just didn’t know any more, either. As I stood there staring at my phone as if it was supposed to be able to explain calls such as that one to me, I saw Baldvin striding down the street in the rain. I grabbed him and whisked him inside before we both got soaked.
I told him all about what Elín had said about leaving the country and what she suspected our father had done to her. Baldvin listened intently and didn’t seem as shocked as I thought he might be. His advice was simple and practical, a lot like him.
‘If she’s serious then she has to take it up with him. Herself, though, not through you. Otherwise you’ll end up caught in the middle. You could quite easily wind up saying something you might regret for the rest of your life.’
‘I get the feeling I don’t yet know the real reason she told me. It’s like she wants me to know just enough to keep me worried about how it’s all going to turn out. It could just be an excuse for her doing whatever it is that she’s got planned next to rip off this lover of hers. Some sort of a deranged rationalisation.’
‘And this married man that she’s seeing, she won’t tell you who it is?’
I shook my head; now that I was telling someone else about it, Elín’s story sounded crazier than ever. I laughed at the whole idea but it was an awkward, uncomfortable laugh – even I could hear that.
‘Maybe you should just try and forget about it. If she’s going to do something stupid then there’s not much you can do about it, is there?’
He was right there. Nothing I could do or say was going to stop her from screwing up her life if that was what she had decided to do. All I hoped was that she didn’t take us all down with her.
Baldvin shrugged and smiled at me.
‘Let her dig her own grave. There’s no need to help.’
‘You’re right. I should just let her go ahead and hang herself if that’s what she’s intent on doing.’
I pulled him closer and kissed him. At least I wouldn’t be going to bed with someone I secretly loathed. I wondered how many people you could honestly say that about on any given night, in any given town.
CHAPTER 4
When the phone rang I rolled over and embraced a cold pillow. Part of my brain wanted to find the location of the ringing while another part altogether wondered where Baldvin had got to. I rolled back towards my bedside clock and checked the time. He would have left for work an hour ago so there was nothing for it but to answer the phone. I checked the caller ID; it was Dad. I answered it anyway. He never called unless he wanted something and this was unlikely to be any different.
‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’
He could barely conceal his delight at my slightly befuddled greeting. I had never been very good first thing in the morning, even if first thing in the morning for me was actually nearer to first thing in the afternoon.
‘No, Dad,’ I lied, and rather poorly at that.
‘Jóhannes dismounted badly off Leppatuska this morning and turned his ankle. It’s no big deal but he can’t drive anywhere the way he is and with him out of action I’ve just got too much to do. I wouldn’t ask but I told the vet to call me as soon as she got the medication in and of course she’s just called, hasn’t she.’
