Strange Shores

33

Ezra had put down the gun while he was relating the story. Erlendur was not sure if he was even conscious of having done it, so absorbed was he in the memory of that meeting with Jakob more than sixty years ago. He listened in silence to the old man’s tale. Dusk was gathering in the kitchen. Erlendur was worried Ezra would catch a chill, sitting there in his vest, his slippers still wet from the snow outside. He asked if he had a jumper he could put on or if he wanted a blanket, but the other man did not respond. So Erlendur got up, found a blanket, draped it over Ezra’s shoulders and took away the shotgun, placing it at a safe distance. It contained a single round which he removed. Ezra made no comment.

The minutes ticked away as they sat in silence, broken by nothing but bursts of grateful cheeping as flocks of sparrows discovered the seed Ezra had scattered on the snowy ground behind the house. Erlendur asked if he should put on some coffee, to no reply.

The pause became prolonged.

‘I don’t know if I should go on,’ Ezra said at last, his voice tinged with melancholy. ‘I’ve no idea why I’m raking this up now.’

Erlendur was about to remark that it might do him good to unburden himself of these long-suppressed memories but bit his tongue. He was in no position to judge.

‘Because of Matthildur?’ he suggested.

Ezra had been gazing out of the window at the moors but now he turned to Erlendur.

‘Do you think so?’

‘All these years you’ve never stopped thinking about her.’

‘No, that’s right. But there’s a reason for that.’

‘She disappeared.’

‘Yes, she disappeared. But I’ve never got over the circumstances, and I never will.’

‘People go missing all the time,’ said Erlendur.

‘People go missing,’ Ezra repeated. ‘If only it were that simple.’

He suddenly seemed to return to the present and notice that Erlendur had removed the gun and spread a blanket over his shoulders.

‘Jakob may well have lied,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. It’s too late to tell now. Matthildur was never found. There’s that. I’ve thought about it since. Maybe he was just torturing me. Maybe he enjoyed seeing me suffer. Got his revenge that way. He threatened to do the worst if I didn’t keep my trap shut, and I believed him. I did as he said. I kept my mouth shut.’

Jakob banged the bottle down, keeping his eyes fixed on Ezra, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Do you want to know what happened?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of course, you have a right to.’

‘What happened? What are you on about?’

‘I’m talking about Matthildur, Ezra. My darling wife Matthildur. Isn’t that why you’re here? You’ve hardly come to give me your condolences. Well, I’ll tell you. Just be patient and I’ll tell you the whole story. Because I want you to know. You’ve just as much right as I have. Maybe more. I was only her husband: you got to sleep with her! You got to fu-’

‘I won’t listen to any more of this filth!’ exclaimed Ezra. ‘Don’t you dare talk about her like that.’

‘Filth?’ queried Jakob.

He started to relate, in meandering fashion, how their marriage had gradually come unstuck after Matthildur received her sister’s letter. He had never succeeded in convincing her that he was not the child’s father or that he had been ignorant that she and Ingunn were sisters. Now she pounced on his earlier behaviour as evidence that he had wanted to avoid all contact with her family from the outset. Jakob had not wanted any fuss over their wedding — no church service or reception. They had got married quietly at the vicar’s house in Eskifjördur. She accused him of being unfaithful to her as well and swore she would not be outdone.

‘Next thing I know she’s cheating on me with you,’ said Jakob.

‘Did you know Matthildur and Ingunn were sisters when you started seeing her?’ asked Ezra.

Jakob sniggered. ‘I tried to tell her.’

‘What?’

‘Her sister would have given the whore of Babylon a run for her money. There’s no way the kid was mine! And I’ll never acknowledge it.’