Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘There’s no need to trouble him with this.’ Glódís’s arrogance seemed to have diminished. ‘I’ll find out where Ragna is and let you know, as long as she has no objection to meeting you.’

‘I’d really appreciate it.’

‘I doubt it’ll do any good, though,’ said Glódís, putting down the pencil and rubbing her hands together. ‘I think I should also mention that Tryggvi did indeed display a certain amount of progress – not inconsiderable, in fact – but you need to keep in mind that it was all relative. He was severely autistic, so even major advances still left him seriously disabled.’

‘So do you think it’s possible that he could have roamed about the unit at night?’

‘I very much doubt it. The progress he made was mainly to do with expressing himself. All of a sudden he started interacting a little with people around him, though not in the sense that he had conversations with them, more that he started to take in some of what was directed at him and attempted to respond.’

‘Did he speak?’

‘No, he had a long way to go before that was likely to happen, if he ever would have achieved it at all. He expressed himself in another way; through drawings, clapping and gestures. It was all very primitive, but it was still a huge success if you consider that up until then, Tryggvi had gone through life without giving any indication that he was aware of those around him. Well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration; he was aware of people, but he made no attempt to communicate with them. He found their presence uncomfortable, especially if they were strangers or there were too many people at once.’

‘So in your professional opinion, he couldn’t have played any part in the fire?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Glódís sounded confident, even more so when she added: ‘It’s out of the question.’

‘And what can you tell me about Friðleifur and the drinking at work? Is that an unjust allegation as well?’

‘I won’t deny that his shift was under suspicion. But the suspicion turned out to be unfounded; they were both tested for alcohol three times, if I remember correctly, and the result was always the same: they were absolutely sober. So it was never more than a suspicion, which means that there’s no reason for me to discuss it with you. I don’t feel it’s right to spread rumours that have no basis in reality.’

‘But what about the drugs? Could they have been on dope? You can’t buy a drug test kit at the chemist for that.’

‘They weren’t on any drugs, unless caffeine counts. After the rumours started I made sure I was there when they finished their shifts at the weekends, and they weren’t high at all; each time they only seemed tired after being up all night.’ The phone on Glódís’s desk rang and she asked Thóra to excuse her. She answered and listened to the person on the other end of the line. The dull echo of a man’s voice came from the receiver, and he sounded annoyed about something. Glódís blushed slightly before interrupting to say: ‘I have a visitor, can I call you back in a moment?’ Then she hung up and turned to Thóra. ‘Where were we?’

They continued speaking for a while longer, but Glódís’s eyes wandered constantly to the phone and her replies were distracted. Thóra decided to call it a day and concluded the visit by making Glódís promise she’d try to arrange a meeting between Thóra and Ragna. She followed Thóra only as far as the door of her office, and after saying goodbye she closed it behind her. As Thóra walked down the corridor she heard the murmur of Glódís’s voice.

‘She was here in my office, so it was a bit difficult to talk to you.’ Glódís realized that she was speaking too loudly, as she did when she was anxious. She’d felt as if Thóra was never going to leave, but she knew that Einvarður was waiting for her to call. She hadn’t wanted to irritate him, but she couldn’t tell him who was sitting in front of her. As a result, he’d probably thought that she was being difficult; he certainly sounded tetchy when he answered on the first ring.

‘What did she want?’

‘She wants to meet Ragna. And she was asking about the night watchman Friðleifur, as I explained; she’d heard about the alleged discipline violations at the residence and wanted an explanation. I told her the truth, that the rumour turned out to be nonsense.’ Glódís didn’t dare tell him what they’d said about his son. She was afraid he would want a word for word account of the conversation and would subsequently find fault with everything she’d told the lawyer.

Einvarður was silent. ‘Did Tryggvi have anything to do with this Ragna? I don’t really remember her.’

‘No. I doubt he even knew she lived there.’

‘How about the night watchman, did he know him?’

‘Not well. Friðleifur and the other night watchman went into the apartments several times a night to make sure that everything was all right – in fact, no, they only went into the apartments whose residents were connected to machines. It’s possible that they might have had to enter Tryggvi’s apartment at some point, if they’d heard a noise, perhaps, but it would have been something completely incidental. They also interacted with the residents a bit in the mornings, since they helped get them out of bed and prepare a light breakfast.’

‘I see.’

Glódís didn’t like his tone of voice and was apprehensive about what he was going to ask her next. It would be better if they discussed her conversation with Thóra as little as possible. ‘When you called before, you mentioned some files. What did you mean?’

‘Oh yes.’ It was clear from his tone that he was not at all keen on changing the subject. ‘Yes, I wanted to be absolutely clear on whether files from the centre are in circulation or in storage somewhere.’

‘What?’ Glódís didn’t know what he was on about. The files were scattered throughout the administrative system and beyond. There was a whole heap of them at the Regional Office; some at the Ministry of Welfare and copies of this and that had found their way to the police and the courts for the trial, and then from there to the lawyers who had been connected to the case. There were even quite a few at his own ministry.

‘Are any files concerning my son still in circulation? I expect you to tell me the truth, and I would remind you that it’s thanks to my intervention that you still have a job.’

She stuttered. It was unusual for him to mention what he’d done for her so directly. She couldn’t deny that she would have been out on the street if he hadn’t stepped in in the wake of the fire. She was grateful for that, of course. On the other hand, he shouldn’t forget that she herself had done him a favour, so he was out of line speaking to her like this. But instead of pointing this out to him, she decided to swallow her pride and simply answer the question. ‘Well… I… it…’ She pulled herself together. ‘Yes, there are numerous files on all the residents and the home’s operations, here in this office and elsewhere.’

‘I’m not asking about reports and suchlike; I mean things that belonged to my son. His property. Did everything get burnt or was there anything of his that might have been kept elsewhere?’

‘Everything got burnt.’ Glódís wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. ‘None of the residents’ belongings were removed from the home, except perhaps by their relatives. We had nothing to do with them.’

‘I’m not talking about clothes or anything like that. What I want to be sure of is that we, Tryggvi’s family, get everything that belonged to him that might be in your possession. Things that are important to us, but meaningless to anyone else. His drawings, for example.’