Strange Shores

20

He drove back the same way, once again avoiding the tunnel between Fáskrúdsfjördur and Reydarfjördur. The going was slower than it had been that morning but his four-wheel drive negotiated the road over Vattarnesskridur without any difficulty. He was aware that the drop to the sea in these parts was known, appropriately enough, as Manndrápsgil, or ‘Death Gorge’. Below him, he could just make out the islands of Skrúdur and Andey.

Daylight was fading and the misty radiance from the smelter site cast a ghostly light over Reydarfjördur Fjord. He wondered if he should visit Hrund now, while Ninna’s information was still fresh in his mind, and decided there was no reason to delay. As he drove up to her house, however, he noticed that she was not at her usual post by the window.

He approached the front door, knocked, waited, then knocked again. Hrund was not at home. Not daring to barge straight in again, he did a circuit of the house, trying to peer in through the windows. No lights or movement were visible. When he returned to the front door and gripped the handle, he discovered that it was unlocked, so he stepped cautiously inside, calling Hrund’s name. No answer. Closing the door behind him, he groped his way to the sitting room where the chair stood by the window, then suddenly got cold feet, struck by the fear of appearing rude. Hrund had probably just gone out to the shops and would be back any minute: he did not want to be caught in her house. Returning to the front door, he opened it and was about to make a quick exit when he happened to glance down the hall to the kitchen. In the faint glow from the street lights, he saw Hrund’s legs stretched out on the floor. Hurrying into the kitchen, he found her lying on her side, her eyes shut. He laid his fingers on her neck and detected a weak pulse, then located her phone and dialled the emergency number. Afterwards, he fetched a blanket from the sitting room and laid it over her but was afraid to touch her otherwise. She was unconscious. The door had been unlocked when he arrived but he had not been aware of anyone else near the house and did not suspect foul play.

Hearing a weak moan, he knelt beside her.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

Hrund opened her eyes and looked around in confusion.

‘Are you all right?’

She tried to sit up but he told her to lie still; he had rung for an ambulance and it would be here very soon. He asked if she had a pain in her chest or head but she indicated that she did not.

‘Diabetes,’ she croaked.

‘You mustn’t try to talk,’ Erlendur said. ‘You’re burning up. Where can I find sugar?’

‘In the cupboard. .’

He stood up.

‘I suppose I’ll have to. . go to hospital. .’

Erlendur found a sugar lump and fed it to her, then fetched a cushion from the sofa, placed it under her head and tucked the blanket better around her. He went outside in search of the ambulance. Though the regional hospital was thirty kilometres away in Neskaupstadur, with any luck they would have an ambulance stationed in the village because of the construction work.

Hrund was still in the same position when he came back. She asked him to help her up off the floor and he was hesitant at first, unsure if he should move her. Eventually, at her insistence, he helped her to sit up on a kitchen chair.

‘I should have known. It starts like the flu, then just gets worse. All it takes is the slightest scratch and I end up with blood poisoning.’

‘They should be here shortly. What can I do to help?’

‘Why do you keep coming here?’ she asked, her voice low and breathless, drained of all strength.

‘Perhaps you should lie down till they arrive,’ Erlendur suggested.

‘Tell me what you’ve found out,’ she persisted weakly. ‘You haven’t stopped sniffing around, have you?’

‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Ah. . I thought not. What’s the latest?’

‘Isn’t there someone I could call?’ asked Erlendur. ‘Don’t you have any family?’

‘They’ve all moved away.’

‘Friends?’

‘There’ll be plenty of time for that. Tell me what else you know.’

Headlights lit up the house and blue flashes bounced off the walls. Erlendur went outside to meet the ambulance. Two men, dressed in thick, reflective overalls, climbed out and followed him into the house.

‘Diabetes again, is it?’ one of them asked Hrund.

‘I’m such a blasted nuisance,’ she said, trying to stand.

‘Easy now,’ said the man. ‘Haven’t you been doing your injections regularly?’

‘Yes, I have, but I think my leg’s infected. I burnt myself on the oven door the day before yesterday, then started feeling very ill, and the next thing I know he’s found me on the kitchen floor,’ she said, gesturing at Erlendur.

The men fetched a stretcher, eased her onto it and carried her out. It had stopped snowing and she lay staring up at the stars until they slid her into the back of the ambulance. Erlendur stood by and watched as they closed the doors, then climbed into the cab and drove off. But they had not gone far before he saw the reversing lights come on as they backed up to the house again. One of the men jumped out.

‘Can I ask who you are?’ he said.

‘Does it matter?’ asked Erlendur.

‘She wants you to come with her.’

‘Really?’

‘There’s plenty of room.’

‘All right,’ said Erlendur and, climbing into the back, perched on a seat beside Hrund who had apparently fallen asleep. When they set off again, however, she opened her eyes and studied his face.

‘Why won’t you give up?’ she asked huskily.

‘Give up what?’

‘Stirring up ghosts that have nothing to do with you.’

‘Do you want me to stop?’

Hrund did not answer.

‘They’ll give me antibiotics,’ she said at last. ‘As soon as I get to hospital. A massive dose to kill all the infection in my body. That’s how they beat it. Otherwise I’ll die. Not that I should care, really. I’m old and tired and ill, and I don’t suppose anyone’ll miss me. But it’s not a tempting thought. Not for me. I may be an old cripple but I don’t want to let go. I really don’t want to let go.’

The ambulance skidded and bumped over a snowdrift that lay across the road. Erlendur was thrown off his seat, almost falling against the rear door.

‘Sorry,’ called the driver from the cab. ‘It’s like a skating rink.’

‘Why are you investigating Matthildur’s story?’ asked Hrund, returning to her theme. ‘What have you found out?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Ingunn and Jakob?’

‘It was none of your business. Why are you raking up what’s long forgotten? Why can’t people rest in peace?’

‘It’s not my intention to disturb anyone,’ said Erlendur.

‘Who’ve you been talking to?’

‘Matthildur’s friend.’

‘Ninna?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you know? I want to hear.’

‘Nothing you don’t already, I suspect,’ said Erlendur. ‘Ingunn didn’t tell anyone she’d given birth to Jakob’s child and he refused to acknowledge that he was the father. Their son is the man you sent me to see in Egilsstadir. Later, when Ingunn learned that Matthildur had married Jakob, she wrote her a letter telling her the whole story. A year after that Matthildur died.’

‘You have been busy,’ Hrund remarked.

‘I sometimes get the feeling. .’ Erlendur began.

‘What?’

‘I get the impression — though I may be wrong — that you’re on my side, in spite of everything, and that you’ve been guiding me. But you’re in two minds. You find it hard to admit it to yourself, so you react badly because you don’t really feel it’s appropriate for strangers to rummage through your family’s dirty laundry. I think your objections are a pretence, but I understand. I think you’re trying to encourage me to take a second look. You’ve been searching for answers for years and you reckon it’s about time somebody uncovered the truth — which is where I come in.’

‘You think you know it all,’ said Hrund in a faint voice.

‘Well, I know why you sent me to see Kjartan in Egilsstadir, but why did you want me to meet Ezra?’

He thought Hrund had lost consciousness again. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had grown oddly peaceful. The ambulance men were driving with great care through the snowy night. In his ignorance about diabetes, he wondered if he should alert them.

‘You said you were a policeman,’ said Hrund suddenly.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve always. .’ She drew a deep breath, apparently at the end of her strength.

‘What?’

‘I’ve always. . felt Matthildur’s disappearance was a matter for the police.’