Arnaldur Indriðason - Silence of the Grave

Simon did not dare move, but, keeping his back rigid, he turned his head to look in the direction of the front door and saw his mother staring at them. She had let go of Tómas, who sneaked into the passage where Mikkelína was standing. She saw the terror in Simon's eyes.

Grímur sat on the kitchen chair and made no sign of moving. Several moments passed and the only sounds to be heard were the howling of the wind and their mother panting for breath after running up the hill. Her fear of Grímur, which had diminished since the spring, erupted again with full force and in an instant she was back to her old state. As if nothing had happened all the while he was away. Her legs went weak, the ache gnawed harder and harder at her stomach, her expression lost its newfound dignity, she hunched up, made herself as small as she could. Submissive. Obedient. Ready for the worst.

The children saw the change that came over her as she stood in the kitchen doorway.

"Simon and I were having a talk," Grímur said, thrusting his head back into the light to reveal his burn. Their mother flinched when she looked him in the face and saw the glaring red scar. She opened her mouth as if to speak or scream, but nothing came out and she stared at Grímur, dumbstruck.

"Don't you think it's pretty?'' he said,

There was something strange about Grímur. Something that Simon couldn't quite pin down. More self-confident. More smug. He was a tyrant, that was obvious from his whole attitude towards his family and always had been, but there was something else, something dangerous, and Símon was wondering what it could be when Grímur stood up from the table.

He walked over to the children's mother.

"Simon told me about the soldier called Dave who brings fish here."

Their mother said nothing.

"It was a soldier called Dave who did this to me," he said, pointing to his scar. "I can't open my eye properly because he thought it was all right to throw coffee over me. First he heated it in a jug until it was so hot that he had to hold it with a cloth, and when I thought he was going to pour a cup for us, he emptied the jug over my face."

Their mother averted her glance from Grímur to the floor, but did not move.

"They let him in when my hands were handcuffed behind my back. I think they knew what he was going to do."

He walked menacingly towards Mikkelína and Tómas in the passageway. Simon sat at the table as if nailed to his seat. Grímur turned back to their mother and walked over to her.

"It was like they were rewarding him," he said. "Do you know why?"

"No," their mother said in a low voice.

"No," Grímur mimicked her. "Too busy fucking him."

He smiled.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he turns up floating in the lake. As if he'd fallen in the water fishing for trout."

Grímur stood right up close to their mother and roughly placed his hand on her stomach.

"Do you reckon he left something behind?" he asked in a quiet, threatening voice. "Something from the picnics down by the lake? Do you think so? Do you reckon he left something? I can tell you that if he's left anything, I'll kill it. Who knows, I might burn it, like he burned my face."

"Don't talk like that," their mother said.

Grímur looked at her.

"How did that bastard know we were pilfering?" he asked. "Who do you suppose told him what we were doing? Do you know anything about that? Maybe we weren't careful enough. Maybe he saw us. Or maybe he gave someone some trout and saw all the stuff in here, wondered where it came from and asked the little tart who lives here if she knew."

Grímur tightened his grip on her stomach.

"You can't look at a uniform without dropping your knickers."

Silently, Simon stood up behind his father.

"What do you say to a cup of coffee?" Grímur said to the children's mother. "What do you say to some piping hot, refreshing coffee for breakfast? If Dave lets us. Do you reckon he'll let us?"

Grímur laughed.

"Maybe he'll have a drop with us. Are you expecting him? Do you think he'll come and rescue you?"

"Don't," Símon said behind him.

Grímur released his grip on their mother and turned to Simon.

"Don't do that," Simon said.

"Simon!" his mother snapped. "Stop it!"

"Leave Mum alone," Simon said in a trembling voice.

Grímur turned back to their mother. Mikkelína and Tómas watched from the passage. He leaned over to her and whispered in her ear.

"Maybe you'll just go missing one day like Benjamín's girlfriend."

Their mother watched Grímur, ready for an attack that she knew could not be avoided.

"What do you know about that?" she asked.

"People disappear. All kinds of people. Posh people too. So scum like you can go missing. Who'd ask about you? Unless your mother from the Gasworks is looking for you. Do you think she might be?"

"Leave her alone," Símon said, still standing by the kitchen table.

"Simon?" Grímur said. "I thought we were friends. You and me and Tómas."

"Leave her alone," Símon said. "You have to stop hurting her. You have to stop it and go away. Go away and never come back."

Grímur had walked up to him and stared at him as if he were a total stranger.

"I've been away. I was away for six months and this is the welcome I get. The missus shagging soldiers and little Simon wants to throw his dad out. Are you big enough to handle your dad, Simon? Do you think so? Do you reckon you'll ever be big enough to fight me?"

"Simon!" his mother said. "It's all right. Take Tómas and Mikkelína down to Gufunes and wait for me there. Do you hear, Simon? Do as you're told."

Grímur grinned in Simon's face.

"And now the missus is running the whole show. What does she think she is? Funny how everyone's changed in this short time."

Grímur looked down the passage to the rooms.

"And what about the freak? Is the cripple going to answer back too? Da, da, da, da, that fucking cripple that I should have strangled years ago. Is this all the thanks I get? Is this my thanks?" he shouted down the passage.

Mikkelína scuttled away from the doorway to the dark passage. Tómas stayed there watching Grímur, who smiled at him.

"But me and Tómas are friends," Grímur said.

"Tómas would never betray his dad. Come here, son. Come to Daddy."

Tómas went up to him.

"Mum phoned," he said.

"Tómas!" their mother shouted.

"I don't think Tómas intended to help him. It's more likely that he thought he was helping Mum. Perhaps he wanted to scare him to do her a favour. But I think it's most likely he didn't know what he was doing. He was so small, the dear child."

Mikkelína looked at Erlendur. He and Elínborg were in her sitting room and had listened to her account of the mother from the hill and Grímur, how they met and the first time he hit her, how the violence gradually intensified and twice she tried to flee from him, how he threatened to kill her children. She told them about life on the hill, the soldiers, the depot, the thefts and the soldier called Dave who went fishing in the lake, and about the summer their father was imprisoned and her mother and the soldier fell in love, how her brothers carried Mikkelína out into the sunshine, how Dave took them for picnics, and about the cold autumn morning when her stepfather returned.

Mikkelína took all the time she needed to tell her story, and tried not to omit any part of the family's history that she thought might be relevant. Erlendur and Elínborg sat and listened, drinking the coffee Mikkelína had made for them and eating the cake she had baked because, she said, she knew Erlendur would be coming. She greeted Elínborg sincerely and asked if there were many women detectives.

"Next to none," Elínborg smiled.