Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

Embarrassed, Thóra tried to hide her doubts. ‘I certainly didn’t intend to suggest that. I know less than nothing about ghosts and I don’t really have an opinion on them either way. We’re here for an entirely different reason, as I mentioned – a case that’s connected to the accident here on Vesturlandsvegur Road somehow. I was hoping that the connection could be explained by speaking to you.’

At that the woman relaxed slightly. ‘I understand. I’ve just become so sensitive about the subject; everyone around me has grown tired of it and their sympathy has worn a little thin.’ She sat up straight. ‘But that’s life, I guess. Although one or two people have actually been extremely understanding; the couple next door have been very kind to us, as well as my boss at work. Other people just don’t want to talk about it.’

‘May I ask how the haunting manifests itself?’ Matthew was clearly extremely curious. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s been in this kind of situation.’

‘Sure.’ Berglind smiled unexpectedly, but then her face darkened as she began telling them the entire story. As the story went on, Thóra was glad that the curtains were all drawn – there was no denying it was powerful stuff.

When Berglind appeared to have reached the end of her account, Thóra was no closer to knowing how these events were related to the fire, and although every other message from Jósteinn had turned out to contain important information, it was conceivable that this time he had missed the mark. Thóra had the feeling that Berglind was telling the truth, and telling the story exactly as she saw it, but that didn’t mean all her explanations reflected reality. ‘Well now…’ Thóra’s throat was dry and she coughed gently. ‘It all sounds rather frightening, but unfortunately I can’t see how it has any connection to the case I’m working on. None of the names match; the dates don’t ring any bells. The accident occurred almost a year before the fire. You don’t remember anything special that happened here on 11 October 2008?’

‘No, although it was actually around that time that the haunting grew significantly worse.’ Berglind thought for a moment in silence and her expression turned to one of bewilderment. ‘Did you say a fire? That occurred in October of that year?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you referring to the fire at the community residence?’ asked Berglind, sounding surprised. Light footsteps from upstairs indicated that Berglind’s son was moving around and she started and looked up at the ceiling. She seemed to realize that her reaction might have appeared unnatural to her visitors and immediately turned her attention back to them.

‘Yes,’ said Thóra. ‘ Do you know anything about it?’ Perhaps Jósteinn’s message wasn’t directly related to the accident on Vesturlandsvegur Road, but he had simply chosen it as a roundabout way of putting Thóra in touch with Berglind. ‘Do you by any chance work at the Regional Office for the Disabled?’

She shook her head. ‘No, at the Ministry of Justice. A colleague there lost his son in the fire.’

‘I see.’ Thóra was at a loss to come up with a sensible follow-up question to this unexpected information. There was in fact only one question burning on her lips, but she thought she’d better keep it to herself until she’d exhausted everything else that came to mind. ‘Do people shorten your name to Begga?’

‘Yes, they do.’

‘Mummy.’ In the doorway stood a little boy in Mickey Mouse pyjamas, clutching a picture with a serious expression. Berglind stood up, took him in her arms and sat back down. She stroked his blond hair and the child leaned his head against her chest. The picture lay in his lap, and its contents drew Thóra’s attention.

‘What a lovely picture you’ve drawn! Do you know the alphabet?’ She leaned forward and reached for the picture. ‘May I see?’ The boy was shy and turned away from her, but he handed her the picture all the same. Large, clumsy characters were drawn in blue crayon. NNI 80. This was as disturbing as the string of characters with which Tryggvi had marked all of his drawings, and the chill that she’d felt outside the house now returned. ‘Berglind, did you meet Tryggvi, or ever see any of his pictures?’

Berglind tightened her grip around the boy. ‘Do you mean Einvarður’s son? I never met him, and Pési certainly didn’t. Why? Is it something to do with these characters?’ She looked at the picture. ‘I kind of recognize them, but definitely not in connection with Tryggvi.’

Thóra let the drawing fall into her lap. ‘I know this is going to sound really impertinent, but… did you and Einvarður have a relationship outside work?’ She half whispered the final part of the question even though the child in Berglind’s arms wasn’t mature enough to understand what she was implying.

‘I’m sorry? Wherever did you get that idea?’ Berglind didn’t seem insulted, just extremely surprised. She adjusted Pési in her lap.

‘I must have misunderstood something. Please, forgive me for being so rude.’ Thóra wasn’t certain she completely trusted the woman, but she didn’t want to carry on making accus-ations that would only be denied. She knew nothing about this relationship that Lena had mentioned, but it was clear that if this woman had been having a secret affair then she was unlikely to admit it to a stranger. Thóra leaned down towards the little boy. ‘Why did you choose these letters and numbers, Pési?’ Thóra held up the picture. He had turned away from his mother and held his hands over his face. Then he peeked through his fingers.

‘The window.’ His answer was so low, it was barely audible. ‘It was written on the window. Magga wrote it. She’s outside.’

Matthew stood on the steps and stamped snow off his feet. ‘It was definitely a man, and a young one, considering how fast he ran.’ He tried to catch his breath. ‘I would have caught him if I’d had better shoes and if he hadn’t gone through the gardens and jumped over all these fences.’ Thin clouds of vapour drifted up from his body, merged with the calm, frosty air and vanished. With Berglind’s permission he had taken a look at the window to which Pési was referring, and while they were examining the characters in the frost on the balcony door that opened onto the kitchen, he had spied a man in the garden and set off after him in Berglind’s husband’s slippers, which had been standing by the door.

‘It’s a pity you don’t ever run through people’s gardens on your normal route.’ Thóra stretched out to look over his shoulder, though she had no idea why she was bothering, since the man couldn’t possibly be anywhere nearby considering how long Matthew had been gone. ‘Dammit.’

‘Who could it have been? Did you see his face?’ Berglind stood behind Thóra with her son in her arms, his small body wrapped so tightly around his mother that she must have found it hard to breathe. The boy had taken the episode badly, and it was difficult to know how much more the poor little soul could endure. For him it might just as well have been the ogress Grýla coming into the garden to put him in her bag, drag him up to the mountains and eat him.

‘No, he never turned around. He had dark hair, though.’

Thóra turned to Berglind. ‘I think the best thing would be for you to contact the police. Of course it was probably just some loony, but in light of the case that I’m investigating it can’t hurt to be careful, since you seem to be connected to it in some way. If this unexpected visit has something to do with the case, it would be much better and safer to place the matter in their hands. Maybe they’ll want to keep an eye on the house.’

While Matthew had been practising long-distance running halfway across Mosfellsbær, Thóra had continued speaking to Berglind, who at first shook like a leaf. No matter what she asked the woman, Thóra couldn’t work out how she was connected to Jakob’s case. No, she hadn’t worked directly under Einvarður; no, she hadn’t got involved in his affairs; no, she had nothing to do with the fire. She did say that Einvarður had been the only one at the ministry to show her any understanding when rumours of the haunting had spread, and he had worked hard to get her signed off from work when she could no longer sleep at night. Thóra didn’t want to read too much into this at first; maybe the man was just being kind and understanding after experiencing great personal difficulties himself, what with his son’s autism and tragic death. On the other hand, it bugged Thóra that until now, Jósteinn had always shared information that was relevant to the case, whereas here there was no apparent connection. She had even asked carefully whether Einvarður had had a close relationship with any other women at the ministry, but this had elicited merely a shocked look and an angry ‘No.’ In Berglind’s eyes the man was an angel in human form and Thóra had immediately dropped all talk of possible adultery, since she wasn’t keen to be thrown out and forced to wait for Matthew in the car in this cold. Maybe Jósteinn hadn’t meant her to come here at all; maybe he’d been trying to direct her to the parents of the girl who’d died in the accident.