Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘It was a new thing for him. He began doing it just before he moved; you’d just started university and you didn’t have time to go out walking with him any more.’ Her words weren’t accusatory at all; the family had perfectly understood the change in Lena’s situation after she’d started classes. Lena picked one up and rolled it in the palm of her hand. ‘Still, shouldn’t we get rid of them? They’re just rocks; they can’t have any sentimental value.’

‘For me they do.’

This was a huge step forward and Lena was so happy she had to turn her back to hide from her mother how triumphant she felt. It gave her hope that their home life would return to normal over time – or as normal as it could be, at least. She let the stone drop back into the drawer, where it landed on top of the pile and rolled down until it hit the back of the drawer with a thunk. The drawer was hard to shut again but after she’d managed it Lena pulled out the next one, prepared to find more rocks. Instead, the drawer held a stack of loose papers. The top sheets were blank and Lena picked up a few of them to check whether they were all like that.

‘What are you two up to?’ Her dad’s voice came from the hallway, sounding strange.

‘Nothing special.’ Her mother finally entered the room. ‘Lena suggested we go through Tryggvi’s things if we want to set up the study that you’ve been talking about.’

‘Really?’ Her father walked in and looked around. To Lena’s knowledge he hadn’t set foot in the room since Tryggvi had died. ‘Oof, the air is bad in here.’ He went over to his wife and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Thanks, you two.’

‘Where did you go?’ asked Lena’s mother, adding a tiny white lie: ‘Lena and I were worried about you.’

‘I was out in the garden. The snow’s melted and I wanted to pick up the rubbish from the New Year.’ He turned to Lena. ‘How’s it going?’

She didn’t reply straight away, as she was too absorbed in browsing through the drawings on the back of all the sheets of paper. They were all alike, showing a figure which could either be standing or lying down, depending on how you turned the paper. It was rather grotesque, with no eyes and no nose, just a big open mouth, which Lena interpreted as a symbol of despair. Tryggvi had added something new to this figure, that she hadn’t seen in other drawings of his: some sort of dark sheet coming from its black, gaping mouth cavity. Lena suspected what the picture was meant to show, but when her father asked what was on all these sheets of paper she just turned one of the drawings towards him in silence.

‘Where did you find this?’ Her father ripped the drawing from her hand abruptly. He examined it for a few moments, his face grim, then took the rest of the pictures from Lena.

‘In the drawer.’ She pointed to the stack. Her father immediately started to gather up the sheets.

‘I don’t like this at all.’ He put the papers on the desk when he couldn’t fit any more in his hands. ‘I’ll deal with this room. There are lots of things in here that people don’t need to see.’

Fanndís and Lena watched in surprise. Her mother, who hadn’t seen the drawings, rubbed her ear feverishly.

As her father tore the sheets of paper to shreds in front of Lena, she felt dreadful. She was starting to suspect that the calm, normal family life she longed for was just a crazy dream that would never come true. Could this violent reaction be connected to the lawyer’s investigation? He must have known about the pictures but not been disturbed by them until now, when the fire was being reinvestigated. She still had the lawyer’s German friend’s phone number somewhere; maybe he could tell her how the investigation was going. Clearly her parents weren’t about to. A white scrap of paper fell off the desk and drifted to the floor.

‘I need a pay rise.’ Bella’s tone made it clear that this was more of an order than a request, and Thóra felt like laughing out loud. If she hadn’t been late for a meeting with Glódís at the Regional Office for the Disabled, she would have enjoyed continuing this discussion with her secretary.

‘There’s a recession, Bella, and pay rises aren’t on the agenda, not in this office or anywhere else in Iceland. Did you mean a pay cut , maybe? Then we can talk.’

‘Cigarettes have gone up, petrol has gone up, everything’s gone up, so now wages should go up.’ Her order of priorities was clear.

‘Sorry, Bella. I really am.’ Although there was little love lost between Thóra and her secretary, Bella’s feelings were understandable in light of the recent price increases, and when you added increased taxes into the equation her wages must have been stretched even further. ‘We’ve been hit by inflation too, so there’s no room to improve the terms of anyone’s contract – yours or ours.’

‘Then pay me cash in hand.’

Thóra was in no doubt that Bella was entirely serious. ‘I can’t; you know that.’

‘Why not? Then I can claim unemployment benefit and still work, which is like a pay rise, but you don’t have to pay it.’

‘It’s illegal, Bella, and the state needs the money to pay those who are actually unemployed. Think for once before you speak.’

‘All the state’s money goes to fuck knows where, so I don’t see why I can’t have some of it. It’s up to the people in this country to make a stand.’ Bella exploded in misplaced indignation. ‘So I’m going to leave early today. I’m going to protest, and I promise they’ll regret having made me angry. Arsehole politicians.’

Thóra frowned. She was quite sure that Bella would carry out her threat, and she hoped the riot police shields were sturdy enough. To her knowledge there were no demonstrations planned, but her secretary alone would doubtless be a match for pretty much anyone in that department. Especially now that there was nothing but instant coffee in the office. ‘You’re not going in your fleece with the company name on it.’ That would be a great photo on the front page of Morgunblaðið : Bella foaming at the mouth with their logo on her chest.

‘I will if I don’t get a pay rise.’

Thóra mentally kicked herself for having mentioned the fleece. Now Bella would definitely wear it. ‘I’ll discuss it with Bragi next week. This week’s bad for both of us. I can’t promise anything but it might be possible to compensate you in some other way. Maybe with a free quit-smoking course, or something that works out as the equivalent of a pay rise.’ She hurried out and closed the door behind her quickly, just in case something came flying at her from behind.

The weather was still fine even though it looked as if it wouldn’t hold for the rest of the day. It was a touch cooler than when Thóra had arrived that morning, and the dark clouds over Faxaflói Bay appeared to have edged nearer to land. Skólavörðustígur Street was still half asleep even though the shops had already opened and, surprisingly, there were some vacant parking spaces. At the end of the street Leifur Eiríksson continued his dispassionate observation of human life from high up on his plinth, and behind him towered the steeple of Hallgrímskirkja Cathedral. She had parked the car in a car park a short distance from the office when she’d arrived at work that morning, since it was unclear whether she’d have any more luck than before getting in touch with anyone. If she’d known she’d be leaving again so soon she would have parked in a space right outside, at a meter that the parking attendants monitored a bit too diligently for her to park there for very long. She enjoyed the short walk and in her mind she went over what she wanted to discuss with Glódís. She could have just spoken to her over the phone, but Glódís hadn’t wanted to do that, saying she was busy when Thóra reached her and suggesting that they meet. Since it was hit and miss whether the woman answered her phone calls, Thóra agreed to meet her. Glódís hadn’t mentioned the e-mails she hadn’t deigned to answer, and Thóra suspected that she’d only picked up the phone by mistake, without checking who it was. In any case, Thóra now had answers to both her questions courtesy of the developmental therapist, Linda: the name of Tryggvi’s therapist and the name of the surviving resident, Ragna Sölvadóttir. But Linda hadn’t known where Ragna was now, so it was important that Thóra extracted that information from Glódís.