The Quiet Mother

63

Konrád thought about the irony of fate. About how few people there were in Iceland. About the coincidences that ruled people’s lives. How they created life. How they destroyed it.

Marta wasn’t happy when he finally got round to calling her and telling her what he’d learned about Bernódus and Ísleifur and Valborg and Daníel, and how it all seemed to be one giant tragedy far beyond his understanding. She chewed him out for not speaking to her sooner, for withholding information from her that was important to the investigation, for being a damned idiot. She said she would hold him accountable if everything took a turn for the worse, the investigation was botched, and even more tragedy ensued. Konrád let her rant and moan over the phone. It was just a distant buzz in the tragic story that had unfolded itself before his eyes.

He parked his car in front of the elegant villa by the sea and looked at his mobile phone. He’d managed to charge it briefly at Regína’s, and hoped it would last. All was quiet. This time, there was no clacking of golf balls being hit into the sea. To his surprise, the door was half open and he stepped carefully inside and called out to ask if anyone was home. He knew the police were on their way there and to Ísleifur’s place, and that a search would begin for Daníel.

He entered a large, richly furnished living room with a white grand piano, huge paintings on the walls and a view out to sea, and there sat Bernódus’s wife, whom Konrád had met earlier that evening. Her back was turned to him and she seemed to be entirely in her own world.

‘Is that you, Klara?’ she asked without turning round when she heard Konrád.

‘No,’ said Konrád, ‘it’s me again.’

‘You?’

‘Sorry for the inconvenience. Are you expecting your daughter?’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to know if you’d had a visitor.’

‘A visitor?’

‘A man named Daníel.’

‘Where’s Klara?’ the woman asked suspiciously. ‘She isn’t with you? I called my daughter. She’s on her way. I need to talk to my daughter. Tell her what happened.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Konrád replied, and he saw that the woman now had a black eye and had been bleeding from one ear. ‘Can you tell me if someone’s come to visit? Daníel?’

‘Why are you asking that?’

‘It may be that... Where’s Bernódus? Are you all right?’

‘No one has been here. Except you. Earlier. Why did you come here to see him? It was such a beautiful evening and he’d been so decent.’

‘Decent?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m not blaming you,’ said the woman. ‘I should thank you, in fact. Thank you for telling me about the poor woman. Valborg. I didn’t know about it. And neither does Klara. But I know my husband. He’s forced me to have sex more times than I can count. Cheated on me. Whored around on his trips overseas.’

Just then, they heard quick footsteps coming from the hall. Both of them turned and saw Klara hurrying towards them. She looked at Konrád in surprise, but then took her mother in her arms and hugged her tightly.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m glad it’s over. Glad this is over.’

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘I don’t know where I got the strength. Maybe it was the story of the woman at Glaumbær. Your dad told it to my face. Screamed it at me. That he’d done it. Raped her. Then he hit me. For the first time in three years. After being so decent.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Klara whispered. ‘Where is he? Has he gone? Where did he go? What are you doing here?’ she asked, looking at Konrád.

‘I think the police are on their way,’ said Konrád, ‘and will want to talk to both of you. And Bernódus in particular.’

‘Because of that woman... that Valborg?’

Konrád said yes.

‘Mum, where is he?!’ Klara asked. ‘Where’s Dad?’

The woman looked at her and then pointed at a half-open door. Klara walked towards it.

Konrád watched her and saw her stop in the doorway. She didn’t go any further. His mobile started ringing and he answered it. It was Marta. He didn’t speak to her straight away, but went over to Klara and looked into the room, where he saw Bernódus lying helpless on the floor. Blood welled from his head and his body twitched. His eyes were open and he stared up at the ceiling, but he couldn’t move. On the carpet next to him lay a broken marble statuette. Konrád rushed into the study, but Klara didn’t move; she just stood there in the doorway and watched him start giving first aid to her father.

‘Send an ambulance to Bernódus’s house,’ Konrád said when he finally answered Marta. ‘He’s taken a hard blow to the head and is losing consciousness.’

‘Damn it!’ groaned Marta, and Konrád heard her order someone to call an ambulance, right now.

‘I don’t know where I got the strength to do that,’ said Klara’s mother, who’d made her way slowly to them and stood behind her daughter in the doorway. ‘Suddenly, it was just so easy.’

Klara started to cry and buried her face in her mother’s neck. Her mother held her and spoke soothingly to her.

‘Some idiot has broken into Valborg’s flat,’ Marta said. ‘He says he wants to talk to you. It’s probably best to be cautious and do as he says. Do you know anything about it? Why does he want to meet you? How does he know you? What’s going on? What the hell have you been up to?’

‘I thought he might be on his way here,’ Konrád said.

‘Who? Who is it?!’

‘It’s Daníel. Valborg’s child.’