The Shadow Killer

29

One of the girls was a lot tougher than the other and made it plain that she had no intention of going home. She refused to give Thorson her address and complained that he had spoiled their fun. At first she claimed not to have any family at all, but in the end she admitted that she’d left home — and nothing would make her go back. The other girl wasn’t nearly so angry and seemed, if anything, grateful to him for rescuing them from the bowels of the ship. She lived with her father and two brothers near Camp Tripoli and wouldn’t mind if Thorson gave her a lift home, so long as he let her out at a safe distance, because her father hated the soldiers and had repeatedly forbidden her to fraternise with them. Thorson didn’t ask why she had defied her father. No doubt she had her reasons, and anyway he was tired. He said nothing more about it but did as she asked and let her out by Vatnsmýri, an expanse of marshland near the airfield, once she had wiped most of the make-up off her face and promised Thorson that she would never go on board a naval vessel again, and that she would stay away from soldiers.

She and her friend said goodbye to each other, and Thorson watched the girl stumbling home over the tussocky ground. He wondered if he should have handed her over to the Icelandic authorities. She had said her father would kill her if he discovered that she’d been fooling around with soldiers. He’d thrashed her for much less — her brothers too — when he’d been drinking. And he drank most of the time. Thorson told her in parting that if she ever needed his help, she shouldn’t hesitate to ask for him at the military police headquarters.

The tougher girl asked him twice if he had any cigarettes and informed him that she’d already run away from the reform school the Morality Committee had packed her off to. She knew she’d be sent back the moment they caught her, but she’d only run away again. When it dawned on her that Thorson was going to keep his promise and drop her off where she wanted to go, her hostility faded. Up to that point she had responded to all his questions with insults, but now she relented and admitted that she had an older sister she could stay with. She told Thorson the name of the street. Although she claimed to be eighteen, he guessed she was fifteen at most. He tried to tell her that although many of the sailors and soldiers in the town were good guys, there was always the odd rotten apple. Women had to be very careful, and kids like her should steer clear of them altogether.

She protested that she’d never had any trouble. All the guys she knew were good to her and gave her money, cigarettes and sweets. He tried to make her understand that though they might be nice to her and offer her booze and cigarettes, they’d want a lot more in return, and she didn’t belong in that world, not at her age, especially if it led to the depths of a warship in Reykjavík harbour.

He couldn’t tell if he’d got through to her and guessed she’d heard it all before anyway. Yet her defences seemed to be giving way a little. She was beginning to sober up now and sat silently in the front seat of the jeep, a small, vulnerable figure, her skimpy dress revealing slim white legs, dirty white knee socks slipped down around her ankles, and childish buckle shoes that didn’t even touch the floor. Without warning she broke down and started sobbing. Thorson pulled over, switched off the engine and put his arm round her, trying to comfort her as she sat hunched up next to him.

‘Don’t cry, honey,’ he said.

‘I don’t want to go back to the reform school,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t let them send me away. They drag you off, lock you up, then send you to this horrible place in the middle of nowhere.’

‘I’m not taking you in for questioning,’ said Thorson. ‘But you have to understand that what you’re doing is incredibly dangerous. You can’t carry on like this. What about your mother, can’t you...?’

‘She... she’s... she’s happy as long as I bring her booze and cigarettes.’

‘What about your dad?’

‘My dad?’ The girl sounded puzzled.

‘Yes, is there... is he...?’

‘Mum thinks my dad was some bloke from the Westman Islands.’

‘You don’t know who he is?’

‘No.’

‘How did you meet those men, those sailors you were with? I hope you’re not getting... too familiar with them.’

‘In town. At the bars. At Ramóna and White Star. Anywhere, really. I haven’t done anything with them.’

‘Well, keep it that way,’ said Thorson.

‘I know what they’re after. Do you really think I haven’t met their type before? There’s a man in our street who pays me to watch him while he... you know. All I have to do is watch—’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ Thorson exclaimed. ‘You should stay away from men like him. They can be dangerous and you shouldn’t... shouldn’t be doing that...’

‘My sister’s... she’s bagged herself a Tommy. She’s engaged. He’s from London and she’s going back with him after the war — going to live there, and become English.’

She made it sound as if her sister had hit the jackpot.

‘So what are you saying?’ asked Thorson. ‘Are you hoping to follow her lead?’

‘She says it’s much better to find yourself a soldier than some Icelandic bloke. She went crazy when they first arrived... the Tommies. Was out partying with her girlfriends every night. They’re always having a good time. One of them’s married and all, but that doesn’t stop her.’

‘No,’ said Thorson, ‘I bet it doesn’t.’

Now that the girl had recovered, he started the engine again and continued on towards her sister’s house. It was getting late and when he stopped the jeep they could hear the sound of car horns and shouting from the centre of town. The girl didn’t say as much but Thorson sensed that she was grateful, though he didn’t know whether it was for rescuing her from the minesweeper or for keeping the Morality Committee out of it. Both, maybe.

Her sister turned out to be a young woman of twenty-five, who was busy getting ready for a night out and was apparently livid with her younger sister for something that had happened earlier that day. She looked Thorson up and down as he stood at the door in his uniform, but when he explained, in Icelandic, that he was a West Icelander, a light seemed to go out. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, indifferently. He told her to take better care of her little sister in future.

‘Better care?’ she said, searching for a cigarette, looking a little the worse for wear. She found a packet and a lighter of a type Thorson knew was popular among the soldiers. Sucked the smoke deep into her lungs. ‘What’s she done now? I can’t control her. She’s completely off the rails.’

‘She’s done nothing wrong,’ said Thorson. ‘But she was in bad company.’

‘The committee’s picked her up twice already,’ said the sister. ‘They packed her off to the countryside. Like that did any good.’

‘I’m not going back,’ said the younger girl.

‘Oh, why don’t you shut up?’ said her big sister, exhaling smoke. ‘Was there anything else?’ she asked Thorson irritably.

‘No. Just take better care of her. She’s a good kid.’

‘Uh-huh,’ said the sister and shut the door in his face.

Thorson shook his head, having second thoughts now about whether he had done the right thing by bringing the girl here. As he turned to leave, he heard the woman tearing a strip off her kid sister.

‘What the hell were you up to? Where have you been?’

Thorson felt sorry for the girl.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve been on the ships! Go on, answer me! Are you completely off your rocker? Are you a bloody navy whore now?’

Thorson didn’t hear a reply, just a light crack as if the girl had been slapped in the face.

‘Why couldn’t you go to Vera’s, you little tart? She’s been asking for you all day. Why couldn’t you go round to hers like I told you?’

A moment later there was a knock at the door and the Canadian policeman was standing on the step again, handsome but a little too sensitive-looking. The woman couldn’t work out what it was about him that she found so irritating.

‘Yes, what, are you still there?’ she barked at him. ‘What do you want?’

‘Excuse me, did you say Vera?’