‘Maybe just some fizzy water, if you’ve got any.’
Dagný vanished into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of soda water and a bowl of Nóa Kropp, which made Elma smile. The chocolate-coated corn puffs used to be their favourite sweet – one of the few things the sisters ever had in common. An old memory popped up of her and Dagný sitting on the sofa, watching a cartoon, and hurling themselves backwards in such violent gales of laughter that they overturned a bowl of Nóa Kropp all over the cushions. Their expressions when they looked at each other had sent them into further helpless fits of giggling. Afterwards they had hurriedly picked them all up and put them back in the bowl before their mother could discover what had happened. Several days later, Dagný had nudged Elma when their mother got up from the sofa, and pointed with an exaggerated gesture to the large, brown smudge on her bottom. This had set them off again, much to their mother’s puzzlement.
‘I’ve got in touch with most of Dad’s friends, and of course all the relatives I could think of,’ Dagný said, handing Elma an exercise book in which she had written the guest list.
If only she could be as organised as Dagný, Elma thought.
‘Could you check if I’ve left anyone out?’
Elma ran down the names. Of course her sister hadn’t forgotten anyone.
‘I’ve also ordered the food and drink, and put together a play list. A few people want to give short speeches – old school friends of Dad’s and so on. And I thought that after supper we could have music and get Mum and Dad to dance. You remember the salsa classes they took the year they went to South America?’
Elma laughed. It was a great idea. After their parents got back from their trip, their father had kept pulling their mother into his arms at unexpected moments and executing a few salsa moves in the sitting room, until their mother had gone on strike. She had been more surprised than anyone by the way he’d taken to salsa, as the classes had been entirely her idea.
‘He’d enjoy that,’ Elma said, looking through the play list. Her sister had obviously put a huge amount of time and effort into planning the party, and Elma suddenly felt guilty for groaning and sighing over all Dagný’s ideas and generally behaving as if their dad’s seventieth birthday wasn’t a big deal. Elma realised she hadn’t actually lifted a finger beyond grudgingly agreeing to Dagný’s suggestions.
‘Now I feel bad. I haven’t done anything.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dagný said. ‘You know how much I enjoy it.’ She popped a chocolate into her mouth and smiled at Elma. ‘I can’t wait to see his face. He has absolutely no idea this is happening.’
Elma smiled back. ‘It’s going to be great. And thank you. Thanks for taking care of everything. I know I’ve been totally—’
‘Don’t say that,’ Dagný cut in. ‘You’ve got more than enough on your plate.’
‘So have you. I mean, you’ve got a job and a husband and two kids. I don’t understand how you can achieve all this and be a great mum and do everything so perfectly.’
Dagný didn’t answer. Her lip trembled. Elma stopped in the act of taking a sip of soda water and frowned at her sister. ‘Is … is everything all right?’
This had the effect of making Dagný clamp a hand over her mouth while her eyes filled with tears. ‘Jesus, I didn’t mean to start crying.’
‘What’s wrong?’
Dagný got up and fetched a paper towel from the kitchen, then sniffed and heaved a breath. ‘It’s just … it’s Alexander. Clearly, I’m not such a good mother. There’s been trouble at school – some of the other boys are bullying him. Boys who used to be his friends. Now they’ve started hiding his clothes, and they tipped the contents of his school bag into a puddle and … oh, I know it’s not that huge a problem but I just don’t know what to do. Honestly, I feel like…’
‘Going down to the school and giving those boys a good shaking?’ Elma finished.
Dagný looked at her and laughed. ‘Yes, seriously, I do. I want to shake them so hard their teeth rattle. I know they’re only kids, but it’s Alexander we’re talking about – Alexander, the sweetest kid in the world, who’d never hurt a fly. How can they do it? What’s wrong with them? What’s wrong with their parents?’ Dagný blew her nose. ‘That’s why Viðar’s been so good about taking them out and doing all kinds of activities with them. To distract Alexander and help him forget about it for a while. I can’t do anything, I just start crying every time I think about it, and that’s the last thing Alexander needs – a bawling mother.’
‘They’re still so young,’ Elma said. ‘Only six. Surely, things’ll get better soon. Like you said, they used to be his friends, so perhaps something’s come up – something they’ll soon forget. It’s not until they’re teenagers that you really have to worry, and that’s years off.’
Dagný raised her eyes to Elma again. ‘Oh God, Elma … Sorry, I know I wasn’t … you know. I should have…’
Elma smiled and ignored the knot that was forming in her stomach. ‘It doesn’t matter. It was such a long time ago and, anyway, I wasn’t talking about me. I got over it years ago.’ This wasn’t quite true. She had recently come to realise that the bullying and gossip she had endured as a teenager had left behind scars that wouldn’t heal so easily. ‘I just meant that Alexander will be OK. He’s such a great kid, and the others will soon see that. I wouldn’t worry about him.’
Dagný was silent, her gaze lowered to her hands. ‘Well, in spite of that, I always wanted to say sorry. After what happened with Davíð too. I just never knew what to say and you always seemed like you didn’t need anyone. Always so independent.’ Dagný glanced up fleetingly and smiled.
Elma smiled back, too choked to speak. She was afraid that if she tried, her voice would betray her.
‘Right, shall we carry on?’ Dagný said after a pause and Elma nodded.
Dagný opened her laptop and shortly afterwards her shopping basket was full of all kinds of decorations that were probably a bit over the top but were bound to make the occasion go with a bang.
Hekla got permission to go out that evening on condition that she was home by midnight. Her interview at the police station hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. She had pictured an inhospitable, grey room, like in films or TV crime dramas, with a good-cop, bad-cop scenario, and that they would yell at her and berate her for lying. In fact, both cops had been friendly and neither had raised their voice or told her off.
Bergrún had gone on and on at her after the interview, until Hekla had caved and told her about Agnar. She didn’t admit they’d been going out, though, just claimed they were friends. Mates. It sounded better, but she wasn’t sure Bergrún had believed her.
Bergrún and Fannar were like her parents and had been for as long as she could remember. When she was younger, everything had been easier, and she hadn’t even had to think about how to behave. She’d just been this little girl, and they gave her their unconditional love. Now she was afraid it wouldn’t be enough anymore.
She and Maríanna had often quarrelled like sisters rather than mother and daughter. Their relationship had never been like that. Hekla had believed she could forget, but now it was as if all the things she had said and thought were growing inside her like weeds that she couldn’t root out – all the lies, the ugly thoughts, words and deeds, all tangled up in one big, painful knot in her stomach.
Bergrún must never be allowed to see this side of her. Sometimes Hekla found herself telling her things that weren’t quite true. Like about the time Maríanna had sent her to her room after she’d discovered that Hekla had sneaked off to Akranes. It wasn’t true that Maríanna had locked her in, nor was it true that she’d hit her. But Hekla had told Bergrún this, and Bergrún had believed her and felt sorry for her, which had given Hekla the warm feeling that she and Bergrún were on the same side.
Now Hekla smiled at Bergrún, who was standing behind her, studying her in the large bathroom mirror, so close that she could smell the coconut
scent of Bergrún’s shampoo.
‘You’ve got such beautiful hair,’ Bergrún said, running her hands through Hekla’s thick, dark locks. ‘Do you want me to put some styling product in it for this evening?’
Hekla nodded.
‘We could put it up in a bun, like this.’ Bergrún gathered up her hair and twisted it into a thick knot. ‘We just need to fix it with a few clips and take it back a bit to show off that pretty face,’ she added, letting go of Hekla’s hair and lightly pinching her cheeks.
Hekla grimaced. ‘It’s not pretty. I’ve got spots and a big nose.’
‘Nonsense,’ Bergrún said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your nose.’ She put her arms round Hekla’s shoulders and studied her reflection. ‘You’re perfect just as you are.’
Hekla got a lump in her throat and saw that Bergrún’s eyes were a little wet too. Hekla would probably never really understand why Bergrún loved her so much. She had nothing to offer, no special talents; she wasn’t pretty or outgoing or … In fact, she could see nothing positive about herself. But Bergrún loved her in spite of all her flaws, and she was desperate not to lose that.
The birthday girl’s parents had bought the girls sweets and given them permission to enjoy themselves in the sitting room. The father had actually baked an ambitious cake filled with butter cream, with big, glitter-covered cardboard numbers saying ‘15’ on top. The girls played music on someone’s phone and connected it up to the speakers. Then they sat and gorged themselves on the sweets, while chatting and laughing.
Hekla felt as if she had been transported to another world. No one gave her a hostile glare as if she wasn’t welcome. No one made a face when she talked or turned up their nose when she sat down beside them. She met Tinna’s eye, finding it hard to hold back a smile.
‘What do you think?’ asked Freyja, whose birthday it was, after they’d been chatting for a while. She got up and opened a cupboard to reveal a collection of bottles. ‘Shall we top up our glasses?’
The girls laughed as she brought out a succession of highly decorative bottles.
‘Won’t your parents notice?’ one girl asked.
Dísa looked at her and snorted.
‘No, we’ll just refill them with water. I’ve often done that before, and they never notice,’ Freyja said, pouring a generous splash into each glass.
The girls took sips, grimacing at the taste; some hesitantly, others as if they were old hands. Although Hekla was used to the burning feeling in her throat, she only took a small mouthful. Bergrún had hugged her when she left, saying, ‘I’ll wait up for you,’ and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
Maríanna had never waited up for her. Instead, she had made spiteful comments, like saying that all the other girls in her class had been out together. ‘Why weren’t you with them, Hekla?’ she would ask. ‘You’re always moping alone at home. Why don’t you ring them?’ Maríanna had known perfectly well that Hekla couldn’t just pick up the phone and call those girls. She knew what Hekla had to endure, yet she insisted on playing it down. ‘It’s only a bit of teasing. Just try and make friends with them.’ As if she couldn’t understand that this wasn’t an option for Hekla. She wasn’t wanted and Maríanna must know that. Yet there was never any sympathy in her expression, only disappointment, as if she couldn’t understand how she had come to give birth to such a weird kid.
At this thought, Hekla took a bigger slug of her drink than intended and made a face. Tinna got up, beckoning her to come with her to the bathroom. Hekla still hadn’t got used to always going to the loo with other people, but in this group of friends it seemed to be perfectly acceptable to sit and pee while the others chatted or touched up their make-up.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Tinna asked, once she’d flushed the toilet. She watched Hekla in the mirror as she was washing her hands. The bathroom was small with light-brown tiles and an open shower full of shampoo bottles and toys.
‘Mmm.’ Hekla nodded. The phone rang in her pocket and she glanced at it. Agnar’s name flashed up on the screen. ‘He won’t stop calling me. Did I mention that he told tales on me to the police?’
‘What did he say?’
‘That I came over to Akranes the day that…’ She dropped her eyes and drew a deep breath, suddenly afraid that everything was going wrong.
Tinna came closer. ‘And what did you say?’
‘Just the truth,’ Hekla said. ‘That I went round to your house.’
Tinna smiled. ‘Close your eyes.’
Hekla obeyed. Her heart started beating faster and suddenly she was nervous. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Shh,’ Tinna said. ‘Stick out your tongue.’
Hekla obeyed again and felt a gentle touch on her tongue. Then a strange taste filled her mouth but she closed it anyway. ‘What is it?’ she asked, opening her eyes.
Tinna stuck out her own tongue. There was a small white pill on the quivering red tip; the same kind of pill as the one dissolving in Hekla’s mouth. She grimaced. It tasted vile.
Tinna laughed. ‘Have a drink of water if you don’t like it.’
Hekla turned on the tap and took a big gulp. ‘Tinna, seriously. What is it?’
‘Just something I got from a mate.’ Tinna smiled and took Hekla’s hand. ‘Don’t be scared, it’s nothing serious. Just a little something to make the evening more fun. I promise it’s nothing that’ll mess with your head. Trust me.’
Hekla nodded, and she and Tinna walked hand in hand back into the sitting room, where the other girls were still sipping their drinks. She trusted Tinna. Of course she did.
The evening passed in a haze. More kids arrived; boys Hekla had seen before and others she hadn’t. Agnar kept ringing but she didn’t answer. Dísa had clearly taken the same stuff as her and Tinna because her pupils were huge.
When Freyja’s parents came back and saw what was going on, they threw everyone out. Tinna called some boys to come and pick them up, and luckily they agreed to give Hekla a lift home. Tinna and Dísa tried to persuade her to stay out longer, but Hekla refused. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bergrún waiting up for her.
Once she was safely in bed, the evening merged into a blur. She stared up at the ceiling of her room, unable to wipe the smile off her face, not feeling remotely sleepy. Luckily, it had been dark, so Bergrún hadn’t been able to see the state she was in. Hekla smiled, pulled the duvet up higher under her chin and closed her eyes. There was a warm feeling in her stomach. Perhaps she should have gone with the girls after all. She sat up in bed and turned to face the window, gazing out at the white snow illuminated by the street lights, thinking about all that the night had to offer. Suddenly she heard a creaking in the snow outside and instinctively jerked back in an attempt to hide in the shadows.
There was somebody outside her window.
Ten Years Old
My eyes flutter for a while, caught in the grey area between sleeping and waking, before finally opening. The phone is ringing. Somewhere in the flat I can hear my mobile. It must be night still, as it’s dark in the bedroom. Hafliði is sound asleep at my side, emitting quiet snores. The phone falls silent, much to my relief. Closing my eyes, I try to get back to sleep. But only a few seconds pass before the ringing starts up again. I make up my mind to get up, and hurry out into the hall, following the noise to the sitting room, where the phone’s lying on the coffee table. The illumination from the screen is the only light in the room.
Breathlessly I answer: ‘Hello.’
I wait, but there’s no response.
‘Who is it?’ My voice isn’t as calm as I’d like it to be. Because there is someone at the other end. I can hear breathing and a sound that could be rain or the hissing of a radio. I wait a bit longer, then hang up and stare at the screen. Then I switch it off to be on the safe side before going back to bed.
It’s three in the morning and I’m wide awake. That’s the third phone call in two weeks. They always come at weekends, always at night, and I’m met
by this silence every time. As if someone’s deliberately harassing me. After the first call, I started to get the feeling that I was being watched. It’s probably just my imagination but I can’t shake it off. The other day I thought a car had been following me for a while, so I drove all round the houses until I shook it off. I couldn’t make out the figure behind the wheel because of the dark, but I’m sure the car was following me. Wherever I went. However fast I drove. Could it be the same person as the one who sent me that letter all those years ago? Surely not: I moved and took care not to register my new address or phone number anywhere. But of course it wouldn’t be hard to find me if someone really wanted to.
I turn over onto my side and stare at the Venetian blinds, which are moving gently against the open window.
Feeling suddenly boiling hot, I poke one leg out from under the duvet. Hafliði’s snoring is getting louder. I wriggle to the edge of the bed, as far away from him as I can. After all those years alone it’s difficult to get used to having another person sleeping beside me. To listen to unfamiliar breathing and feel another body turning over in its sleep. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I lie there, watching him. Watch how he stops breathing for several seconds before starting up again. One night I dreamt I’d smothered him; pressed a pillow over his face and watched his hands scrabbling at the air until they gave up and fell limply back onto the bed. The strange thing is that it wasn’t a bad dream. Not a particularly good one either, but not bad.
When I finally drop off it’s past five o’clock, and two hours later I wake up to find Hafliði nibbling my ear lobes. I lie there passively, letting him pull down my knickers, and I’m relieved when he’s finished. He doesn’t notice anything, just kisses me on the cheek before stretching and getting out of bed. When I look in the mirror I’m met by greenish circles under my eyes. The ice-cold water I splash on my face doesn’t get rid of them.
Girls Who Lie Page 20
