Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - The Day Is Dark

‘Is it very difficult?’ The hesitation in the woman’s voice suggested that she desperately wanted to throw herself wholeheartedly into the programme, even though she might not say so outright. Doubtless she feared that she would fail and call yet another disappointment down on her head. It was better to act as if she didn’t care.

Arnar didn’t know how to answer. Praise the system and encourage her or tell her to take it slowly and not rush into anything? ‘It takes effort. But you should talk to a counsellor about it. Not me.’ He stood up. He couldn’t talk about this any more. Not with her. Not with anyone. He’d already done enough bad things and caused enough damage.

The woman remained sitting at the table, surprised and hurt. As Arnar pushed his chair back and walked away, he saw that she’d resumed scratching the swollen back of her hand.

The car moved slowly over the snow-covered ground. The speed was certainly to Thóra’s liking. She was terrified of driving on ice and highly doubted Matthew’s own abilities in such conditions. Still, she trusted him at the wheel much more than she would herself. Her fear would override her common sense as soon as the car started skidding. The stretch ahead was straight, with a gradual incline, so she relaxed her grip on the ceiling handle slightly and with her other hand flipped the pages of the little notebook that she’d found in the pocket of Oddný Hildur’s coverall. ‘This appears mainly to have to do with geology,’ she said, turning the page. ‘At least, I hardly understand any of the endless figures and diagrams.’

‘Maybe Friðrikka can go over the text.’ Matthew didn’t take his eyes off the road as he spoke, but instead squinted to shield them from the sun as it reflected off the broad expanse of snow.

‘Yes, that’s probably a wise idea – there’s some stuff here that doesn’t seem to be connected to rock strata and that kind of thing, but it’s impossible for me to make the distinction.’ She continued turning the pages. ‘For example, here are a bunch of phone numbers that could be related to the project, or to something totally different.’ Most of the numbers appeared to be Icelandic, although one of them was longer than the others. ‘What do phone numbers in Greenland start with?’

‘299, as I recall.’ Matthew took one hand off the steering wheel and fumbled at the compartment between the seats. It was closed and he was unable to open it without looking down. ‘Can you check whether there are any sunglasses in there or in the glove compartment?’

‘There is one Greenlandic number in her book.’ Thóra looked in both compartments and found some yellow plastic sunglasses, which she handed to Matthew. ‘They’re incredibly ugly but they’re all I can find.’ Matthew put them on and looked completely content. ‘These are those really good snow glasses,’ he said, obviously not caring at all how he looked in them. He relaxed his shoulders. ‘The Greenlandic number probably has something to do with the helicopter or the airport. If I worked here I’d want to have those numbers at hand.’

Thóra read him the number. ‘Do you recognize it at all? You called the helicopter service, didn’t you?’

‘I don’t recognize it, which doesn’t say much. I have a number in my wallet if you can get it out of my pocket.’

Thóra found the wallet and after a bit of searching through a number of business cards and credit card receipts she pulled out the right slip of paper. ‘It’s not the same number,’ she said.

‘They could easily have other numbers besides this one.’ Matthew slowed down and took a wide turn. They approached the village slowly but surely. ‘It could also be the number of the hotel in Kulusuk, or a hospital, or anything.’

‘Maybe.’ Thóra said nothing as she tried to imagine what Greenlandic number Oddný Hildur would have wanted to keep handy. She couldn’t think of any. She thumbed through the book again but spotted nothing new. The only thing that caught her attention apart from the phone numbers were the words Usinna and blood tests ; after the latter was a question mark. Both appeared on the same page. Obviously you wouldn’t expect to read blood tests in the notebook of a geologist, but there it was nonetheless. Thóra had no idea what it signified. ‘I wonder what “Usinna” is?’ she mused. ‘It has a capital “U”, so it could be a name. Do you recognize it?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Matthew replied. ‘I don’t even know what nationality it is or whether it’s a woman’s or a man’s name. It could be Greenlandic.’

‘It sounds like a woman’s name, since it ends in “a”.’ Thóra closed the book. ‘If it’s a name. It could also be a place name.’

‘Do you know the name of the woman who’s letting us make our phone call? I think we’re almost there.’

‘Oh. I didn’t ask her. Maybe her name is Usinna. Who knows?’

Matthew sighed and looked at Thóra. ‘What will you do if her husband or a child answers the door? Say, May I make a phone call? The woman who lives here said that I could .’

Thóra ignored this. It was typical of Matthew to be worried about small details. This was why they got along so well; she was in the habit of getting on with things and he preferred to stay in one place. She just smiled at his grumbling. ‘Something like that. Don’t worry, she’ll answer the door. I can’t imagine she has kids. I hope not, anyway; she seems to have enough to deal with on her own. If she has a husband, then I’ll simply explain everything.’

They drove up a hill, behind which the little village spread out. As before, it seemed devoid of any human presence, but down at the pier men could be seen moving about. Thóra spotted the house where she thought the woman lived. As with the other houses, there was no sign of life. They drove calmly down the slope; so slowly, in fact, that they might as well have been walking. When they reached level ground Matthew sped up slightly and they stared through the windscreen in search of lights or any other sign that someone was home. There was no sign of activity, and the curtains were drawn. ‘Maybe she’s asleep?’

‘Then we’ll just wake her by knocking.’ Matthew undid his seatbelt. ‘Or her husband and children.’ He smiled at Thóra and opened the car door. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ They both jumped when a snowmobile suddenly started up and came flying out of the yard of the adjacent house. At the wheel sat a man who did not even glance in their direction. Behind him sat a little girl who just managed to reach around his waist with her short arms by pressing tightly against his back. Her face was turned towards them and she stared at Thóra and Matthew with two pitch-black eyes. On her face was a large scar which stretched from one eye down to her chin. The girl made no attempt to hide the ugly mark that covered her chubby cheek. It was a sign of the revulsion that the place awakened in Thóra that she found something unpleasant about the girl’s gaze, and she was thankful for the din of the engine that drowned out all other sounds. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the words that the child’s mouth was forming.

They watched silently as the snowmobile disappeared around a corner. Thóra slammed the car door shut and drew a deep breath. The strange girl had rattled her and she kicked herself for failing to have asked the woman her name. She wasn’t as happy about the situation now. The paint had started to peel from the door and the knob hung loosely, reminding her of a withered flower. The soft creaking of one of the loose corrugated iron plates covering the house gave her the creeps. She could not avoid the thought that this dilapidated house had sucked the vitality from the woman. ‘Oh, God,’ said Thóra as they stood on the wooden landing before the door. She looked at Matthew to assure herself that he was actually still there, and knocked.