Reykjavik Nights

23

The two swans swam by again, slowing to see if there was any hope of breadcrumbs from the humans on the bench. Disappointed, they moved on, then abruptly took fright, flapped their wings and ran noisily along the surface of the water, before soaring gracefully into the air and heading north towards Mount Esja. Rebekka watched until they vanished.

‘Hannibal was never the same again,’ she said. ‘It goes without saying. A tragedy like that can change a person, alter the whole course of their life.’

‘Yes, I suppose it can,’ said Erlendur.

‘His happy side disappeared,’ Rebekka continued. ‘Like so much else. So much went out of him after Helena died. He wasn’t the same person. He refused to talk about the accident, never mentioned Helena’s name. Started drinking heavily. Kept changing jobs. Tried moving to the countryside for a while. Over the next ten years or so he changed into the vagrant you met. We did what we could but it was impossible to save him from himself. On the rare occasions when we got him to talk about the accident he was full of anger and self-recrimination — self-hatred really. If we tried to help he would accuse us of interference. He couldn’t tolerate that.’

‘So he blamed himself for what happened.’

‘Yes.’

‘What about you? It must have been a traumatic experience for you too.’

‘Even after all this time, I can hardly bear to think about the way I imposed myself on them,’ she said. ‘And what happened to Hannibal made me feel worse. It was like a constant reminder of the accident — the way his life fell apart, the way he isolated himself, the way he lived. And... Oh, I don’t know...’

‘What?’

‘The way he died. That he should have drowned too, so long afterwards. Talk about irony.’

‘But it must have been some comfort to him that you, at least, survived,’ said Erlendur.

Rebekka made no reply.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe, in a sense. Yes, of course. It must have been. But clearly it wasn’t enough. All he could think of was Helena.’

‘I’m guessing your older brother did nothing to ease the pain.’

‘No, that was another thing. He and his wife — Helena’s sister — said a lot of things they shouldn’t have. Things I know they regretted later — or at least my brother did. Asked him straight out if he’d been drinking, because they knew he could be reckless and couldn’t really handle alcohol. But he hadn’t touched a drop. Of course, I could testify to that, but there was an inquest too which removed all doubt. In spite of that, they couldn’t get over their anger, and my brothers hardly ever spoke again. Mind you, I’m convinced Helena’s sister had a say in that. I never liked the woman.’

‘When you heard Hannibal was dead did you think of them at all?’ asked Erlendur.

‘Them?’

‘Your older brother.’

‘No. How do you mean?’

‘That they might have had an argument?’

‘That’s what you said the other day.’

‘Yes.’

Rebekka thought.

‘You don’t seriously believe he could have killed Hannibal? After all these years? No, it’s utterly absurd. I don’t understand... don’t know how it could even cross your mind. Nothing I’ve said has given you any reason to make allegations like that.’

‘No, of course not,’ said Erlendur. ‘By the way, he rang me after you and I talked the other day. He was none too happy.’

‘No, I... I told him the gist of our conversation. He and Hannibal hadn’t had any contact. None at all. Not for decades.’

‘Did they turn up to the funeral?’

‘Yes. Well, he did. She stayed behind up north. Which is typical of her. Not an ounce of forgiveness in her heart. But you mustn’t think that about my brother. Seriously. He’d never have been capable of hurting Hannibal.’

‘But he did, didn’t he? Indirectly?’

Rebekka stared at Erlendur, startled and indignant. He immediately regretted it.

‘How can you imagine... how can you talk like that? How dare you?’

‘I’m sorry, I—’

‘Why are you so curious about Hannibal anyway?’

‘Because I’d got to know him a bit. There was something about him — the way he chose to live. Perhaps more than anything it was what he said the last time I saw him. He’d been beaten up and we took him down to the station where he and I had a chat. He talked about his misery, said it didn’t matter if he lived or died. I wondered what it would take to make a man talk like that.’

‘He said that?’

‘Yes. Honestly, I didn’t mean to accuse anyone. Please forgive me if it came across that way.’

Rebekka studied Erlendur; the resolute mouth, the deeply entrenched lines of sadness around his eyes.

‘This isn’t just about Hannibal,’ she said. ‘There’s more to it.’

Erlendur did not respond.

‘Did something happen?’ she asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What exactly was it about my brother that caught your imagination?’

‘I told you.’

‘No, you haven’t told me anything. Whereas I’ve been open with you and told you all about my family. I feel you owe me an explanation for your curiosity. For why we’re sitting here discussing my brother. I don’t think you’re being straight with me.’

She waited for an answer.

‘Well?’

Erlendur remained silent.

‘Then we’ve nothing more to discuss.’ Rebekka stood up. ‘Goodbye. I hope you’ll honour my request to treat what I’ve told you about my family in strictest confidence.’

She walked off towards town, leaving him staring across the lake. Eventually he rose to his feet.

‘I... I had a brother once, like you,’ he called after her.

She halted and turned.

‘A brother?’

‘He went missing,’ Erlendur said. ‘In the mountains out east, where we grew up. We got lost in a blizzard. I was found; he never was. When you say you can hardly bear to remember how you went with them on that outing... I know the feeling. When Hannibal talked of his misery, it struck a chord with me.’

He sat down again and Rebekka came back.

‘And you’re still suffering?’ she asked, after a while.

‘I think about it almost every day.’

‘I’ve tortured myself over the years, constantly brooding about what happened,’ Rebekka said. ‘If only I hadn’t gone with them, hadn’t been standing in the drive when they set out. If only I’d been playing with my friends instead... I used to brood like that endlessly when I was younger. What if he hadn’t had to worry about his sister in the back seat? Surely then he’d have had time to save her? Was it my fault she died? Was it all my fault?’

‘I’m familiar with those thoughts,’ Erlendur admitted quietly.

‘Then one day I realised I was being too hard on myself,’ she went on. ‘Using the incident to torture myself unnecessarily. I’ve stopped now. There’s no point. He saved my life and his own life fell apart. I struggled with that knowledge for years but I’ve learned not to connect the two things.’

‘I don’t suppose Hannibal ever stopped,’ said Erlendur. ‘Torturing himself with thoughts like that.’

‘No. They were his constant companions.’

‘And destroyed him in the end.’

‘Yes,’ Rebekka said, her eyes on Erlendur. ‘And destroyed him in the end.’