The Quiet Mother

37

Reykjavík was in the Christmas spirit. The city centre had been decorated with beautiful Christmas lights and evergreen branches that were fastened to the street lamps, and on Austurvöllur Square, the lights on the tree from Oslo had been lit. Valborg had walked down Laugavegur High Street towards Glaumbær and enjoyed seeing everything looking so Christmassy. The shops were open and full of gift items; some of the window displays were unusually elegant and she admired them as she passed by. She could smell apples and smoked lamb as she strolled past the Borg butcher shop. This was the only time of the year that she saw women in the workwear shop and men in the lingerie shop.

Valborg stopped in at Kjörgarður. When she was younger, this first shopping centre in the city had a special attraction: an escalator. Such a marvellous machine had never before been seen in this country. Like other kids who came by to take an exhilarating escalator ride, she’d sometimes played on it if she happened to be on Laugavegur. By some magic that she didn’t understand, the machine carried people up to the next floor and made it unnecessary to climb the steps. To her, it was a genuine adventure.

At Kjörgarður, there were shops of all sorts, and one of them was selling a green coat that Valborg wanted for Christmas but still hadn’t persuaded herself to buy. It cost an exorbitant amount, but Valborg had tried it on several times and knew she had to have it. She was always hesitant about such purchases, going often to look at the thing she wanted and considering it from all angles. She rarely bought unnecessary things and didn’t allow herself much. The saleswoman tried to budge her, saying the coat wouldn’t be in the store much longer, and then asking if she should set the garment aside for her. Valborg could reserve the coat and fetch it the next day. A woman had come to the shop a short time ago and almost bought it, and said that she would come back again. It was as if the moment of truth had arrived.

When Valborg went back out onto Laugavegur, there was a slight spring in her step and her heart beat faster. The Christmas decorations were even more beautiful, if anything, the lights brighter, and as if that weren’t enough, it had started to snow.

Nearing midnight, Glaumbær was packed with people, and out on the street, there was a line of partygoers waiting to get in. The dance floor on the ground level was crowded and the smoky fug stung the eyes. Alcohol flowed into dry throats and the throng of patrons streamed from one room to another. The noise was deafening. The babble of voices, the music from the different floors, the throng at the bars where people fought for the attention of the bar staff. Orders were simple and people drank pretty much the same thing. Brennivín and Coke, vodka and Canada Dry, and that bitter red Campari.

Valborg went from floor to floor but spent most of her time on the top one, and even though she was quite preoccupied with her work, she soon noticed the man who sat there watching her. Whenever she gave him an inconspicuous glance, it was as if he was staring back, and then he nodded at her. She replied in kind.

It was the same man who’d approached her around two weeks ago and asked if she had a light. He waved a cigarette in her face and she got him some matches. He made a decent first impression, was polite and affable, good-looking in his own way, dark-haired and thin, yet there was something in his comportment that made her a bit uncomfortable, that bothered her. Something in his glance. His smile. It wasn’t exactly fake, but wasn’t sincere, either. She had a hard time putting her finger on it, but there was something about him that didn’t appeal to her.

‘Have you been working here long?’ he asked, inhaling the smoke and handing her back the matchbox, but she said he could have it. She herself didn’t smoke.

‘Just a few months,’ she said.

She’d often had such conversations with the nightclub’s clients. Young men. Older men. Drunk men. Sober men. Not all as polite as this one. They approached her, smooth and chatty, and she tried to be congenial because they were at least friendly. Others were coarse. Extremely rude. One or two grabbed her. Slapped her arse. Groped her breasts. She could handle it, and didn’t worry about those men too much. She knew that the bouncers would throw them out if she gave them a signal. It actually happened once. The man was plastered and fought with the bouncers, and they finally had to call the police. This one was a smoothie.

‘Do you like working in Glaumbær?’ he’d asked. ‘It’s where it’s at.’

‘It’s really fun,’ she said, smiling. ‘The people who work here are great.’

‘And all the bands,’ he said. ‘It must be fun knowing those guys.’

‘They’re really just ordinary,’ she said, trying not to be shy. She had a tendency to become awkward in such situations, when guys showed an interest in her. She tried to act normal. She wasn’t especially self-confident, but didn’t want it to show. ‘No better or worse than others,’ she added.

‘Still, you have interesting working hours,’ he said. ‘Being at a nightclub. It’s a special workplace.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I like sleeping late.’

The man laughed.

‘You must have to work well into the night,’ he said. ‘Tidying the place and closing up.’

‘Sometimes,’ she said.

They chatted a bit along those lines, and she hadn’t seen him again until now when he smiled and nodded to her. She was busy, and spotted him again about two hours later, down on the dance floor. He wasn’t dancing, though, but stood somewhat off to the side, listening to the band. Valborg watched him for a while until another waitress, somewhat older than her, passed by and noticed where she was looking.

‘Is that someone you’re interested in?’ she asked, needing to shout in her ear.

‘No, no,’ Valborg said hastily, shaking her head.

‘Don’t you find him kind of cute? I’ve seen him here a few times before.’

‘I don’t know. Yeah, whatever. I chatted with him a bit the other day.’

‘Did he hit on you?’

‘No, nothing like that. Or, I don’t think so.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Did he ask you when you get off work?’

‘No, well, not exactly. He wanted to know if I had to stay after closing to tidy up and so on.’

‘Did he say he would wait for you?’

‘He didn’t mention that. How do you know...?’

‘He asked me that the other day,’ the woman said before hurrying off. ‘I just told him I was married.’