Nightblind (12 page)

The nurse came and talked to me after lunch. I’d managed to get there somehow, sat for half an hour and tried to eat something.

She said she had talked to Helgi, and he said I needed to persevere a little longer and then he’d have a meeting with me later in the week. I asked if I couldn’t just stop the medication.

Absolutely not, she said. We don’t let ourselves be put off by a little discomfort. There are always a few side-effects with these drugs, she said. She did not meet my eyes.

Gunnar thought he’d arrived at work early, but Elín was there before him. They were alone at the municipal offices, but he still asked her to meet him in private in his office. She shut the door firmly behind her.

‘You mustn’t take it personally,’ he said gently. ‘That news story, I mean.’

He had been more than a little surprised to see that Elín had hit the headlines of most of the news websites that he’d looked at over breakfast.

She hesitated, trying to shrug it off.

‘It’s no problem. It’ll blow over. There’s something else I wanted to discuss … I’m very sorry about yesterday…’ she said, unusually self-conscious. Normally she was decisive and focused, which was what Gunnar liked so much about her, and also found so attractive.

‘Listen, don’t worry about it. We were both to blame,’ he said and immediately regretted using the word
blame
.

‘If you want me to leave, resign…’

‘Resign? Have you lost your mind? I can’t manage this job without you,’ he said, smiling to lighten the atmosphere.

‘Of course it was completely inappropriate,’ she said in a low voice, her eyes averted.

‘No, it wasn’t. It would have been inappropriate if I’d come on to you, as your boss,’ he said and decided to come clean, feeling the blood surge through his veins. ‘It’s not as if it’s something that hadn’t crossed my mind as well, Elín…’

She visibly brightened and returned his smile. ‘I thought so. It
must be tough, being so far from everyone. And you have to believe that I’ve no intention of breaking up your family.’

‘The marriage isn’t everything it should be, Elín. Not any more. I have to admit it. I’m not even sure that I
want
to keep it afloat.’

She sat opposite him in silence. The next move was hers.

He heard doors opening and closing somewhere in the building as someone turned up for work.

‘This probably isn’t the best time to be talking about this. Shall we get a coffee after work, maybe?’

‘That would be perfect,’ she said, decisive and collected, and now he recognised the Elín he knew so well; he also knew that their cup of coffee would end with them in bed together. It was obvious that their thoughts were heading in the same direction. The question was, where would be the best place to meet?

She obviously read his thoughts, because she said, ‘Won’t you drop by my place? I can do a decent espresso, though I say so myself.’

‘Sounds good,’ he said, feeling his face flush.

Elín stood up and left the mayor’s office without another word.

This was certainly an unexpected turn of events, Gunnar thought to himself, but probably inevitable. The attraction had always been there, and now that they also shared a secret, his secret, the bond between them felt stronger than ever.

A shadow settled over Iceland’s most northerly town towards the middle of the day. For once, it wasn’t the shadow of the surrounding mountains, but something much, much darker.

Herjólfur had died that morning, without regaining consciousness. There were many unanswered questions, and now there would never be a first-hand account to find out what really happened on that frozen, windswept night. Had he seen his attacker? What thoughts had gone through his mind when he heard the shot and felt the impact of its blast in the cold darkness?

When he heard the news, Ari Thór’s thoughts went immediately to the boy, Herjólfur’s son, the young man who had been made fatherless far too young. Herjólfur also had a daughter, but Ari Thór had never met her. His sympathies lay with the son, whose situation he had been in; a boy without a father. .

What must young Herjólfur be thinking now, and how did he feel? Ari Thór had only met him once, but could see him clearly in his mind. He had appeared tough, but it was one thing to receive news that his father had been shot and to keep his composure for a short time, another to be told that it was all over.

Now Helena was a widow, this respectable housewife who had already started preparing for a funeral. She had been distant when they had spoken to her and he suspected, or feared, that the news would drive her deeper into herself and she would surround herself with a thick, defensive barrier. Could this tip her over the edge, straight back into the depths of depression?

He felt an almost tearful surge of sympathy for the family.
It brought everything back, and with a stark clarity that left him feeling more emotional than he had in years. He was honest enough to admit that he still felt deeply sorry for himself, and couldn’t help but wonder if his overwhelming sympathy was in itself a form of selfishness.

Unbidden, his thoughts travelled to the question of the inspector’s position. When would this be advertised, and what he would have to do to ensure that this time it would go his way? He hated himself for these thoughts.

It has been an ordinary day so far. I can see through the window that it is cloudy, trying to rain. I haven’t been outside yet, although I understand that I’m allowed to now, like everyone else, as long as I’m accompanied by one of the staff. But I’m in no hurry.

This afternoon I heard that Dr Helgi had turned up, the doctor was finally in the house. You could be forgiven for thinking that doctors would be regular visitors to hospitals, but that doesn’t appear to be the case, at least not here on the psychiatric ward. My daily care is in the hands of people who show little interest in me.

Wasn’t one suicide attempt enough?

I’m far from being the only one who gets little attention. Sometimes the whole shift sits in the coffee room playing cards, and of course none of us inmates are asked to join in. This is what throws into sharp relief the difference between us in status. Them and us.

Hey, well … Helgi had turned up.

There was a queue of inmates to see him. Not everyone, of course, just those who had a reason to see him. Like me.

But my name was never called.

I waited, pacing back and forth. I held back as long as I could.

All of a sudden, the man had left. No more appointments on his list for the day. I lost it. The nurse had promised to book an appointment for me and she knew just how bad the medication was making me feel.

Fortunately my temporary loss of control passed quickly. Two of the staff, each of them as strong as an ox, overpowered me before I could do any damage or cause anyone harm. I certainly wasn’t lacking the will. I know that all too well, and that’s something that has kept me awake throughout many a long night. I’ve been sitting here and thinking, and doing a little writing. Things are becoming clear.

Elín sensed an unusual chill in the house when she returned home, a hint of a draught whispering through it. Had she forgotten to close a window that morning? Or was it just the events of the past twentyfour hours that had left her shivering? It had been a long, hard day. Elín was no more accustomed to dealing with the media circus than most people, and it had been distressing – a miserable experience – being discussed by strangers all over the town and the country, without any way to influence whatever they might be saying. She had even been foolish enough to take a look at the tailback of comments that trailed below the news item on one website. Of course she shouldn’t have done it, but once she had started reading, she was unable to tear her eyes away, compelled to know what people were saying about her; delving into crushing and vicious gossip from people she had never set eyes on, but who still seemed to have strong opinions about her and her ability to do her job. The story itself was simple enough, that she had been questioned by the police. But it was amazing how cruel some of the comments were, presumably because she held a semi-political position. Online debate had become increasingly vicious in the wake of the financial crash, as if anything could be said about anyone, especially politicians.

The only consolation, if it could be called that, was that the news of Herjólfur’s death had come the same day. To an extent it had overshadowed the media’s facile speculation about whether or not municipal officials might have some connection with the shooting. She had to admit that if Herjólfur had to go, then he couldn’t have chosen a better day for it. Herjólfur’s fate was naturally far worse
than the gossip about her. She wanted to share the family’s pain, trying her best to conjure up some sympathy, but it wasn’t easy. She had hardly known Herjólfur. She had enough problems of her own.

Then there was the picture, that damned photo next to the news article. She had tried to get away with using a new assumed name, but her real name, Elín Einarsdóttir, was no longer a secret in Siglufjördur, and the journalist behind the first story that morning had clearly done his homework. The news item was about Elín Reyndal, Siglufjördur’s deputy mayor, and it included a photograph of her with her real name in the caption beneath it. It was an old picture, but that wasn’t the point. Now that her cover was blown, it was only a matter of time before Valberg would track her down and realise that the woman who had left him, who had fled his abuse, had hidden herself away up north in Siglufjördur.

The question was how far he would go? Would he bother to get in touch? She was sure that time was on her side, and maybe Valberg had found another woman.
Some other woman to mistreat?
Maybe, but Elín didn’t care about that now. She needed to think about herself. She had to summon all her courage and stop playing hide-and-seek, look that bastard in the eye.
Far easier said than done.
She wasn’t sure she knew him well enough to be sure just how far he would go.
If you leave, I’ll kill you!
Had that been an empty threat? It was impossible to tell, but deep inside she knew that he was a dangerous man. That was the reason she had done all this, taken another name and let herself vanish.

Elín put down her handbag and switched on the coffee machine in the kitchen. She took off her overcoat. She would have preferred to wear a padded down anorak to insulate herself from the winter chill, but felt that wasn’t right for the someone in her position. So she shivered in her overcoat instead. This damned wind, so bitingly cold, virtually every single day. The mountains provided some shelter, but when the wind was from the north, straight from the sea, there was no respite from it. Today had been cold, but finally there was a long-awaited break from the relentless rain.

Goosebumps raised on her arms and the back of her neck. There was no mistake, the flat was unusually cold. A window must be open, maybe upstairs in the bedroom. She knew she ought to run up the stairs, but hesitated, suddenly afraid, alone in this echoing house. Accustomed to smaller flats in Reykjavík, she had never had so many square metres of property all to herself. But now she found that the advantages of having a large house might not be as positive as they seemed.

She tried to shake off the disquiet, reassured by the familiar hiss of the coffee maker. She couldn’t put it off for long. She would have to go up the stairs to shut the window. Quite apart from that, eventually she’d have to go upstairs to bed. But that could wait, coffee first, and then she hoped that Gunnar would turn up. He could hardly have misunderstood her invitation. If he was ever going to give up on his dysfunctional long-distance relationship, now was the time; he was being given the chance to take the first steps tonight.
He would come.

Elín stood motionless and watched the drops as they filled the little espresso cup, a shot of energy after a long day. Every time she had bumped into someone at work, she hadn’t been able to help but wonder,
Has he read that story about me? Does he think I shot a cop?
Gunnar had offered her the chance to go home early, take a day off sick, but that would have meant giving up too easily. That would never do.
Let them think what they like … it’ll blow over
… She hoped it would. She was in a political job, to some extent at least, and would have to get used to both the ups and downs and the attention, positive and negative.

Maybe it was for the best, a chance to step out of the shadows and forget that loser, Valberg? She would have to screw up her courage to stare him down if their paths were to cross again.

The first sip was perfect, a shot of caffeine that gave her renewed energy. The heat of the coffee warmed her through. She went into the larger of the two lounges and looked out at the snow-decked mountain slopes that rolled gently down to her back garden. Gunnar lived not far away, in the shadow of the same mountain.

‘My love.’

Two innocent words shook her to the core. Wonderful words under the right circumstances, but not here, not now. Elín stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, forgetting to breathe; a chill rippled through her like an electric current.

‘My love,’ he repeated. She dropped the coffee cup and saw it shatter into fragments, the coffee staining the white tiles a rich brown. She sensed that she was close to losing consciousness. She would have to sit down, but that would mean turning round.

It would be best to do it right away, meet his gaze. Of two impossible options, the worst one was to have her back to him. She took her decision and spun round.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed almost exactly as he had been when they had met for the first time in that nightclub in Kópavogur. He always dressed in a similar way; jeans and a leather jacket, both of them a size too small for him. The T-shirt under the jacket was the only variation in his daily wardrobe.

Steady steps took him towards her. Should she scream? Attack him? Run? Try to get out? She decided there was nothing to be done; she had to trust her instincts. Somehow she felt it was best to keep on the right side of him, do nothing to anger him.

‘What are you doing here, Valberg?’ she said, hoping to sound confident, the one in charge, but her voice failed her. The words came out uncertainly, quivering fearfully.

‘What are
you
doing here?’ he asked, raising his voice. He was now close to her, close enough to touch her if he were to reach out a hand, or if she were to try and call for help or run for it.

She knew then that he was not prepared to let her out of the house, that he wasn’t going to leave quietly.
Could she talk him round
?

‘I … I was offered a job,’ she said and there was a pause. ‘How did you find me?’ Her voice was regaining its strength. But she was still shaking with fright, scared to the point that she could barely focus.

‘How did I find you?’ Valberg laughed. ‘Why? Were you in hiding?’

‘No. Nothing like that.’

‘I saw a picture of you this morning on some web page. So here I am. Got in the car and came straight here. Elín Reyndal!’ he added with a laugh. ‘So what’s this bullshit? Did you really think I’d never find you? You thought you could hide away in this fucking dump forever?’

He stood silent, his rapid breathing a testament to a long tobacco habit.

‘You know what, Elín…?’ His voice dropped. ‘You know what? I reckon we could have parted as friends if only you had talked to me. I know I could be heavy-handed sometimes, but I was always sorry. And you can’t just do that to me, vanish like that. One, two, three, gone! Eh? People just don’t do that kind of thing!’

He stepped closer, laid a hand gently on her shoulder and then raised it to slap her.

The stinging pain shocked her, and Elín instinctively tried to push him away. He grabbed both of her arms and gripped them tight, his eyes boring into hers.

This was just the start. This was going to end badly.

‘How did I find you?’ Valberg smirked again. ‘I’ve missed you so much, sweet Elín! I searched for you everywhere, asked everyone about you. The national register says you live at your mother’s place. Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on her house and never saw you. Then you get caught up in some murder case? Well, that was a stroke of luck! You shot the cop, did you?’

Valberg was flushed and trembling with suppressed nervous energy. That fire within him had been stoked and she knew that whatever he might have felt when she first left him had grown into a burning rage that had now enveloped him.

She said nothing. He held both of her wrists bunched together in one of his heavy hands.

‘Anyway, that doesn’t matter, my darling. It didn’t take long to find you. I just asked a few people. Everyone’s so helpful out here in the country. Everyone trusts everyone else! Nice house. It’d be
pretty fucking good to live here, eh? More space than the block in Kópavogur! And I see you’re careful about security. There wasn’t an easy way in. Windows locked, doors locked. So I had to climb up on to the balcony and go in through the French doors. Only had to break one window. I didn’t want to alarm you right away, my love. Because then you might not have come in … And we have stuff to talk about, so we can make sure this doesn’t happen again.’

‘Shall … Shall we sit down?’ she suggested.

He slapped her again, harder this time. The pain stung and brought tears to her eyes.

‘Go on, cry. I don’t care,’ Valberg said. ‘It’s your own fault. You can’t imagine how angry I was, my love. Angry and frightened. People just don’t do that kind of thing,’ he repeated.

She didn’t dare say anything, but felt the tears flow down her cheeks.

‘You haven’t even dyed your hair or cut it differently,’ he said, running a hand through it. ‘What kind of escape strategy is that? New name, new place, but the same old Elín. You have to do things properly, that’s what I always say. You weren’t careful enough.’

She thought of Gunnar.

Was he the only one who would be able to save her? She caught herself in silent prayer, praying that Gunnar would come soon. They’d set no definite time, just an almost unspoken agreement that he would follow her home.

Hopefully … hopefully he was on the way. She would scream out to him the second the doorbell rang, run and try to open the door, which was still locked. Valberg would hardly take them both on, more likely he’d steal away and…

The thought of Gunnar gave her a taste of hope, but she knew it was hopeless. If she knew him at all, Valberg would never give up. He would try again, and again, until he got what he wanted. And she was now looking at the end. Her end.