The Darkness Knows

41

Once they had rung off, Konrád put on more music and was just uncorking a bottle of wine when the phone rang. It was Herdís. She apologised for disturbing him at this hour and Konrád told her not to worry about it, it wasn’t that late.

‘I just wanted to know if there was any news,’ she said.

‘Actually, I was going to call you tomorrow,’ Konrád said. ‘Do you remember if Villi ever mentioned an old woman who lived near him on Lindargata? She was always known as Vigga.’

‘Vigga?’

‘A recluse. She had no family. A bit of a prickly character. I wondered if he’d ever mentioned her in your hearing?’

‘Is that the old woman who was a bit odd?’

‘So he did know her?’

‘Not well, I think. He once told me about a woman who lived on his street who was very old. I don’t remember her name. I never met her myself.’

‘But they knew each other to say hello to?’

‘I think so. What about her?’

Konrád described his visit to the Shadow District and what Maggi had told him about Vigga and her claim to have found Villi after the accident. Herdís listened to his story in silence. It was news to her that her brother might not have been alone when he died.

‘Was it true?’

‘It may have been,’ Konrád said.

‘Then why didn’t she go for help? Why didn’t she call the police?’

‘Vigga was a very eccentric woman,’ Konrád said. ‘Things didn’t necessarily happen the way she said. We can’t be certain that she saw the accident or went out to Villi. But it could have happened. There’s no reason to dismiss the possibility entirely.’

‘So he wouldn’t have died alone?’

‘It’s possible she was with him. It’s also possible that he was dead when she found him.’

‘I don’t know... It’s hard to take in, so long afterwards.’

‘Yes, I can imagine.’

‘Why didn’t she tell someone straight away?’

‘Like I said, she was a very eccentric character.’

A pause developed. Konrád knew Herdís would need time to process the news.

‘There’s one thing I can’t stop thinking about,’ she said at last.

‘What’s that?’

‘If there was nothing more to it, if Villi’s death was an accident, why didn’t the driver stop and try to help him? It’s weird that he didn’t.’

‘I know.’

‘He might have been able to save him. So why didn’t he?’

‘Because he meant to knock him down,’ Konrád said.

‘That has to be the explanation, doesn’t it?’

‘Maybe. Maybe that’s the only plausible explanation.’

Konrád poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it, lost in the reminiscences stirred up by his conversation with Maggi. Although most of the kids at school had left him alone about his withered arm, there had been exceptions, especially after he started at secondary school. And now Polli was dead...

Konrád had never told his father about Polli and the hassle the boy had caused him that would nowadays be described as bullying. Back then, it didn’t have a name. Konrád had tried to ignore it but his tactic hadn’t worked; in fact, it had had the opposite effect.

Polli had been a new boy in the dunces’ class, a problem kid from Keflavík who had just moved with his parents and two sisters to a basement flat on Thingholt. He was big, strong and stupid, and soon developed a peculiar obsession with Konrád and his arm.

At first, it seemed as if Polli wanted to make friends with him, but Konrád didn’t give him the chance — his gut instinct telling him that he would do better to avoid the new boy. This only made Polli more curious, if less smarmy. He blocked Konrád’s way one day after school and asked if he could see his bad arm. Konrád didn’t answer and was about to continue on his way when Polli shoved him into the road and asked if he was crippled in the head too. Konrád retreated before Polli’s superior strength, but that was only the beginning. After that he had grown afraid of Polli, who used to tease him and call him names, or corner him and aim blows at him that Konrád was powerless to withstand. Even when his clothes were torn or he was given a bloody nose and bruises, he never complained or reported Polli; and if anyone asked what had happened, he would invent excuses. Things went on like that for much of the winter.

Konrád wasn’t the only boy Polli picked on. His speciality was pulling down the weaker boys’ trousers in front of everyone in the playground. Once, shortly after New Year, he managed to rip Konrád’s trunks off during a swimming lesson and pushed him stark naked into the pool. Then he waved the trunks around like a trophy so everyone would see Konrád’s humiliation. When no one laughed, most of Polli’s glee faded and he chucked Konrád’s trunks into a rubbish bin, from which one of his classmates retrieved them and handed them back to him in the pool.

And so it had continued, with blows, kicks and insults, until one day they had a PE lesson. Konrád had dawdled behind in the showers — as sometimes happened, because he loved to linger under the jet of hot water. Next minute, Polli appeared in front of him, naked, and asked if he wanted to touch his dick. Instead of answering, Konrád tried to dodge and make a dash for the changing rooms, but Polli grabbed him and started groping and rubbing up against him. Finally, Konrád managed to hit him in the face, hard enough for Polli to lose his grip, which gave him a chance to wriggle free. He was about to run out into the corridor with his clothes in his arms when the supervisor appeared in the doorway. He demanded to know where Konrád was rushing off to and why he was still messing about in the changing rooms when the others had already left, and ordered him to hurry up and get dressed. Polli didn’t make a sound from the showers. Konrád said he’d lost track of time and quickly pulled on his clothes. He was still dragging his jumper over his head as he emerged into the corridor and set off for home as fast as his legs would carry him.

It was then that Konrád realised this had to stop and that only he could make it. Shortly after the incident in the showers, he sneaked to his father’s toolbox, dug out a heavy plumber’s wrench, weighed it in his hand and decided it would do. He walked up the hill from the Shadow District, over Skólavörduholt to Thingholt, and staked out the basement flat where Polli lived. Polli didn’t emerge that evening or the following one, but the third evening — after Konrád had waited outside, shivering in the cold, for more than an hour — the door opened, and Polli came up the steps and headed over the hill in the direction of the Hlemmur bus station. It was a bitterly cold evening with drifting snow, and Polli set a fast pace through the winter darkness.

Konrád silently followed. At the top of Skólavörduholt hill, where it was darkest, he called Polli’s name. The boy stopped dead and turned, looking rather nonplussed when he saw the pathetic cripple staring back at him. Before he had time to ask what he was doing there, Konrád walked up to him without a word or a moment’s hesitation and, raising the wrench with his good arm, smashed it into Polli’s face. The blow caught the other boy on the cheek, breaking the skin, and Polli yelped with pain. The attack was unexpected and savage, and Polli never had a chance to defend himself. Konrád followed it up with a blow to his knee, causing Polli to stumble; and before the bully knew what was happening, he had been struck again in the face, above the eyebrow. This time he fell over backwards, banging his head on the paving stones. Reacting quickly, Konrád landed a fourth blow in his enemy’s face. This was the heaviest of all and caught Polli square on the half-opened mouth, breaking six of his teeth and almost knocking him out cold.

As Polli lay on the ground, barely conscious and groaning with pain, Konrád aimed a final kick at him before turning and walking calmly back down the hill to the Shadow District. Once he got home, he rinsed the blood off the wrench, dried it carefully and put it back in the toolbox. His father had once taught him two rules for winning a fight if he was faced with overwhelming odds: first, take your opponent by surprise if possible, so he doesn’t know what has hit him until it’s too late; second, don’t show a moment’s hesitation, and really make your opponent hurt.

Polli told everyone he’d fallen over when they asked about his injuries. After that, no one had any further problems with him, and he left the school that spring.