The Quiet Mother

43

Konrád found nothing online about a religious organisation or sect that called itself the Creation. There was enough material about the creation of the world, as it was described in various religions. The creation of life. The creation of man. Nothing about an organisation called Creation or The Creation. The sect had existed long before the days of the internet and social media, and when Konrád scrolled through the main newspapers from around 1970, he found nothing about it. Its members seemed to have a knack for keeping a low profile and staying out of the media. Gatherings weren’t advertised. No address was given. Members weren’t named. So Konrád assumed that it was a small group whose few members took pains to stay out of the limelight.

He was thinking about these things — sects, religious communities and religious issues, and how big a part they played in the lives of both individuals and the whole world — when he drove up to the dilapidated house in Grafarvogur and shut off his car’s engine. Personally, he’d never felt any need to believe in the existence of God or divine providence or the words of the Bible, or viewed any religious text or religious message as a guide for his life. He knew that his mother was religious in her own way, even though she never went to church, and he’d sensed in Erna a similar need to believe, especially after she fell ill. He understood them both, but remained the same atheist as before.

A small brass plate on the front door showed that he was at the right place, but no one seemed to be home. On a hunch, Konrád walked behind the house, where he noticed a woman who was probably several years younger than himself tidying up the garden. She was wearing good protective clothing and a wool cap and was holding a rake, which she was using to gather loose twigs into a little pile near the base of a tree. Konrád didn’t want to interrupt her and possibly startle her, but just watched what she was doing. The woman appeared to enjoy her work, going at it slowly and leaning forward on the rake between gathering up broken branches and dead leaves and rubbish that had blown into the garden. She had a peaceful air, a product of the contentment she felt in her daily chores.

‘Regína?’ Konrád finally said, moving closer.

The woman turned round and seemed unfazed despite a stranger having suddenly shown up in her garden. She stopped what she was doing and regarded him for a moment before walking over to him.

‘Naturally, if I’m in the garden, I can’t hear when visitors come,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise you were here.’

‘No, the garden needs to be taken care of like anything else,’ Konrád said, just to say something.

‘Thank you for such a quick response,’ said the woman, as if she’d expected him, before shaking Konrád’s hand. ‘It certainly won’t get fixed by itself.’

‘What?’ said Konrád.

‘Oh, the silverfish,’ said the woman, plodding past him towards the house.

‘The silverfish?’

‘Aren’t you the exterminator?’ she said, turning to him.

‘Extermin... no, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person,’ said Konrád. ‘But are you Regína?’ he asked in return.

‘Oh, but... who are you, then?’ said the woman. ‘Yes. I’m Regína. Did you come here to find me?’

‘I’m gathering information about a woman who I think was a friend of yours, named Sunnefa,’ said Konrád. ‘I was hoping that you could tell me a little about her.’

The woman stared at him.

‘Sunnefa?’

‘Didn’t you know each other? From the time you both worked at the National Hospital? I understand you two were friends.’

‘I haven’t heard the name Sunnefa in many years,’ said the woman.

‘No. She died quite a while ago, of course,’ Konrád said.

The woman had a hard time hiding her surprise as she asked who Konrád was and what his relationship with Sunnefa was and he replied that she’d delivered the child of a friend of his.

Just then, Konrád’s mobile rang and he saw that it was Eygló. He excused himself and said he needed to answer it, and the woman went back to what she was doing. After their recent argument, Konrád hadn’t expected to hear from Eygló any time soon. Eygló seemed to have forgotten about their disagreement; she didn’t mention it at all, but came straight to the point and said she wanted to see him that evening — could he come to her place in Fossvogur? For his part, he said he’d been planning on calling her to tell her something he’d discovered about their fathers. Eygló was immediately curious, but he said he couldn’t discuss it at the moment, and they agreed to meet that evening and finish their conversation.

Regína kept to herself in the meantime, but when Konrád put his phone back in his pocket he saw that her attitude had changed. She said she had nothing to say about Sunnefa and asked him to go and leave her alone.

‘You were good friends, weren’t you?’ said Konrád.

‘We knew each other, but I don’t remember much about her and I’m afraid I can’t help you. Sorry,’ she said, holding out her hand as if to show him out of the garden. ‘I’m expecting someone to come take care of some silverfish.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Konrád, ‘I don’t want to bother you, but I think you can help me with the information that I need. It’s a serious matter. Maybe more serious than you suspect.’

He saw that the woman was quite confused. He’d disrupted her years of peace there in the garden. He felt like the biblical serpent.

‘What information?’ Regína asked hesitantly.

‘About the Creation.’

‘The creation? What do you mean by that?’

‘The congregation.’

‘Congre...? It’s... I forgot about all that long ago.’

‘Were you in it?’

‘I don’t see why that should concern you. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here asking these questions. I’d like you to go away and leave me alone.’

She walked up to the house, opened the back door, and watched to see whether Konrád would piss off out of her garden. He made no move to go.

‘Do you want me to call the police?’ she said.

‘No,’ Konrád said. ‘There’s no need. Though they may be calling you soon.’

‘Me? The police?’

‘I said that the matter is serious. It’s possibly related to the woman who was murdered the other day at her home. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Her name was Valborg. Do you recognise the name?’

The woman shook her head.

‘I heard about the murder,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

‘A friend of hers,’ Konrád said. ‘Valborg came to me shortly before she died. She gave birth to a child she didn’t want and gave it up right after it was born, without even seeing the baby. She asked me to find the person it grew up to be. It crossed my mind that you could tell me what became of it.’

‘The child?’

‘I’m pretty sure your friend delivered it,’ Konrád said.