Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘What’s your hourly rate?’ The woman bit her thin upper lip, which was almost the same colour as her face. When she released it again all the blood rushed back and it reddened as if she’d put lipstick on it but forgotten the lower one. Thóra named the lowest possible rate, the one she offered her closest friends. The woman’s face revealed that she’d been expecting something lower. ‘Can’t I have a discount?’

Thóra was in a quandary; there was no way the woman could afford to pursue the case unless the firm simply did the work for free. ‘The rate doesn’t tell the whole story. The number of hours worked does tend to pile up in these kinds of assignments, but if everything goes to plan the majority of those hours would hopefully be reimbursed. In the part of the law that covers the reopening of cases, it’s stated that the cost of the petition – and of the new trial, if the petition is approved – will be paid by the State Treasury. On the other hand, we don’t know whether Jakob’s case will be reopened and even if it is, there’s no guarantee that the courts will consider the entire portion of the expenditure recoverable.’

‘But… ‘ Grímheiður stared open-mouthed, the colour now drained from her upper lip.

‘On the other hand, if I’m right, and Jósteinn still wants Jakob’s case to be reopened, then he’ll hopefully stick to his word about paying the cost. If that’s totally unacceptable to you after what’s happened, I will of course stop working for him, and then we can take the chance that the case will go well and the costs will be paid by the Treasury.’ Thóra felt sorry for Jakob’s mother; it didn’t take a psychologist to see that the woman had two choices, both of them bad. She could give the green light and indirectly receive money from a man who had maimed her son, or she could refuse any further assistance from this odious benefactor and effectively prevent Jakob from having any chance of returning home.

‘What would you do?’ Grímheiður directed her question to Matthew. She was of the old school; his words had more weight than Thóra’s, since he was more likely to come to a rational conclusion, being a man. Thóra didn’t let this bother her and smiled wryly to herself.

‘Me?’ Matthew had been following the conversation but clearly hadn’t expected to be directly involved. He carefully put down the doughnut that he’d been intending to enjoy, after Grímheiður placed a box full of them on the table in front of him, along with some coffee that she’d brewed the old-fashioned way. ‘Well, I guess I would let the investigation proceed. Look at Jósteinn’s payments as compensation for the injury. The damage has already been done and although it goes completely against your instincts to accept anything from this man, it’s the most sensible decision when you put aside your feelings and look at the bigger picture.’

‘In other words, it doesn’t matter where the assistance comes from.’ The woman appeared satisfied with Matthew’s answer and she filled his cup. ‘But what will people think?’

‘Does it matter?’ Matthew meant this sincerely; he cared little about others’ opinions. ‘The case is about Jakob, not some strangers in town.’

Grímheiður put the coffeepot down carefully on a tray that Thóra would have bet everything she owned Jakob had made. Her pale eyes suddenly filled with tears, which she self-consciously wiped away with her hands. ‘Sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

‘You don’t need to apologize for anything. I have a son; a daughter, too, and I understand how you feel. What Jakob’s been through, both last night and over the years, is more than most mothers have to deal with. You deserve credit for your endurance.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Grímheiður, so softly that she could barely be heard. ‘He’s got to be allowed to come home. I’m so worried about him. What if he’s sent back to Sogn? What will this Jósteinn do then? Stab him again to send him back here? The hospital’s had its own cutbacks and they can’t keep readmitting him.’

‘I’d advise you to speak to the Icelandic Prison Service and even try to get the hospital on your side. Sogn is categorized as a hospital, not a jail, so these institutions could act jointly to get Jakob placed elsewhere, in consultation with the court – which would also have to get involved, since he was pronounced not criminally liable. It must be possible to find some sort of interim solution to his predicament. Unfortunately, Ari will probably have to be involved as well, as Jakob’s supervisor, but I can speak to him if you’d prefer not to.’ Thóra was afraid that no matter what solution the authorities chose, it would be one that neither Jakob nor his mother would be happy with – although at least he would be safe.

‘I’ve never been good at talking to government agencies, and certainly not to that lawyer.’ Grímheiður glanced quickly at Thóra. ‘I’ve never been able to speak plainly to those people about what’s on my mind.’

Thóra assumed the woman meant government officials. ‘Maybe I can help you.’ You never knew, perhaps Einvarður would be willing to use his contacts within the Ministry of Justice. The Prison Service answered to the Ministry and it was the least Thóra could do for Grímheiður and her son.

‘I would be very grateful.’ Two more tears appeared, but Grímheiður wiped them away immediately, sniffed and pulled herself together. ‘How’s it going with the case otherwise? Have you found anything that might help Jakob?’

Thóra told her the main details of what she was working on, without actually giving anything away. There was no way of knowing whether it would bear fruit, and she was keen not to give the woman some scrap of information that she might obsess over for a lifetime if Thóra didn’t make any progress. ‘Hopefully I’ll be able to complete this over the next few days and then I can assess whether there’s reason enough to request a reopening of the case.’

‘Do you want to see his room?’ The question came out of nowhere. Perhaps the woman wanted to elicit even more sympathy from Thóra, in order to increase the likelihood that her assessment of the evidence would be favourable to Jakob.

‘Certainly.’ Matthew got up off the kitchen chair with lightning speed. A fear of being confined in a small kitchen with an unfamiliar, weeping woman had overcome him.

They followed Grímheiður into a small carpeted hallway where the door to Jakob’s room was located. ‘Here it is. Just waiting for him to come home.’ She opened the door and waved them in ahead of her.

‘Very nice,’ said Thóra, just to have something to say. It was difficult to comment much on the room; it was like every other room in the apartment, packed with things and three sizes too small for its contents. Still, there was not a speck of dust to be seen. There was even a radio playing softly, as if Jakob had just stepped out. Thóra looked around. ‘You certainly have kept it looking tidy. I wish it were this clean at my place.’

‘I don’t have much to occupy me these days. Jakob was never much for cleaning up his room, and I was used to helping him. Now what I’d like most of all is for some naughty little boy to make a mess of everything so I can remember how things used to be, but I wouldn’t dare.’ She looked at some of her son’s things that had been set up on a shelving unit. ‘Something might break, and Jakob is so careful with his belongings.’

Matthew gently lifted a pair of binoculars that stood on end on the bedside table. ‘These are fantastic.’ He held the binoculars up to his eyes.

‘They were a Christmas present from me and his father. The year before he died.’

Matthew put the binoculars down hastily. He left the other things alone and started examining the posters hanging on the wall above the bed, which was neatly made. There were loads of them, some overlapping; for example, the bumper of a Formula One car peeked out from beneath a poster of the Manchester United football team. ‘What’s this?’ Matthew pointed at a rather faded picture of a figure on a white background, on which were written the words: Even angels have bad days . ‘Isn’t this an angel?’ He looked at Thóra and then at Grímheiður.