Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Ashes To Dust

‘That’s a good question,’said Bjargey. ‘Alda wasn’t really the chatty type, although she was always kind to everyone, staff as well as patients. But no one in particular comes to mind.’ She smiled weakly at Thóra. ‘Alda only worked here on weekends, but she also took extra evening shifts when she could. They always needed staff then, because most people want evenings and weekends off.’ Realizing she was still holding the stack of papers, Bjargey put them down on top of a similar pile on the desk before continuing: ‘Alda worked somewhere else during the day, she didn’t often share shifts with the same people, so she wasn’t part of a group like the rest of us.’

‘So she didn’t work with anyone in particular?’ asked Thóra. ‘With you, for example?’

Bjargey shook her head, causing the hair-clip keeping her fringe out of her eyes to come slightly loose. Her hair was cut short, but had grown out a bit. She lifted one hand to catch the clip, without missing a beat. ‘I do the scheduling and other admin for the nursing staff in the A &E, so I know it didn’t work like that. I worked with Alda sometimes, and liked her.’ Bjargey pushed her hair back up and refastened the clip. ‘To put it mildly, I was very surprised to hear that she had killed herself. I didn’t think she would do that, to tell you the truth.’

‘Hadn’t she stopped working here?’ said Thóra. ‘I understood from the head nurse I spoke to that Alda resigned shortly before she died.’

‘Yes, in fact she had,’ replied Bjargey, clearing her throat. ‘That matter is actually still being investigated, both here in the hospital and elsewhere, so I can’t say much about it.’

‘Do you mean that Alda didn’t leave on good terms?’ said Thóra. ‘That’s actually what I was led to understand in my conversation with the head nurse.’

‘Good and not so good,’ said Bjargey, enigmatically. ‘A particular situation came up that she and the department couldn’t see eye to eye on, which led to an agreement that she should take a leave of absence until the matter was resolved.’ She fiddled again with her hair-clip, although it now appeared to be securely fastened. ‘The decision was reached without acrimony. I’m convinced that Alda would have come back if things hadn’t gone as they did.’

‘I see,’ said Thóra.‘You said the investigation was ongoing both here in the hospital and elsewhere. Are you talking about a police investigation, or a liability claim?’ She tried to imagine crimes one could commit in a hospital.‘Did Alda make a mistake in her work? Did she steal drugs? Or…’

Bjargey had fallen silent and appeared to be wondering how best to reply, if at all. When she finally spoke again it was as if she were weighing every word carefully. ‘Alda wasn’t accused of a work error and she didn’t steal any drugs. The case wasn’t about anything like that. It’s debatable whether she behaved in an appropriate manner, but all the allegedly unusual conduct took place outside work hours, and therefore should not concern this institution. However, circumstances arose that made it wrong for her to continue working here during the investigation.’

Thóra could make no sense of this.‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ she said, and smiled confidingly. ‘Is there any way you could explain more clearly?’

‘No,’ replied Bjargey, now without any hesitation. ‘This has nothing to do with Alda’s death and I can’t see how whatever you’re trying to dig up could relate to this in any way. So I would prefer not to discuss it any further.’ She avoided looking Thóra in the eye as she said this, but then directed her gaze at her and added: ‘I’m sorry. It’s a sensitive matter.’

Thóra realized it was useless to pursue this any further. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘But to return to my errand – can you think of anyone Alda might have known well on her shifts, even if they weren’t actually friends?’

Bjargey gave Thóra a patronizing smile. ‘Have you visited the A &E in the evening or at the weekend?’

‘No, actually I haven’t, but I came here several times with my children when they were younger. As it happens, it was always in the daytime.’

‘There’s no comparison,’said Bjargey. ‘Alda worked all the difficult and tiresome shifts, when the A &E filled with puking pissheads who had injured themselves, or with their victims, who came here either beaten up or cut up. Try to imagine yourself working with such a demanding bunch. Drunkpeople are incredibly impatient and if a lot of them are made to wait, the situation in the waiting room can be borderline dangerous, not to mention how unpleasant it is to have to listen to all their arguing and complaining. So there’s really no time or space for chatting or making friends, I can tell you that much.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Thóra, understanding only too well how horrible a workplace full of drunk people could be. She had heard many stories from Hannes over the years, so what the woman said didn’t surprise her. ‘Alda must have been an extremely hard worker,’ she said. ‘Did she have any particular role, or did she do all the general nursing duties?’

Bjargey looked again at Thóra as if she were reluctant to answer. ‘Alda took on pretty much everything. She was an outstanding nurse and had a great deal of experience in closings because of her work at the plastic surgeons’. The doctors used to ask her to assist them in stitching and such like. She was also very compassionate and mature, which made her popular when there was a need to calm or comfort people in distress, or to fill out incident reports. She was particularly good with women,‘ said Bjargey, glancing at her watch. The message was clear: enough. She looked up again at Thóra.’Luckily, there are fewer women than men here on the weekends, but the gender ratio is balancing out more and more with every weekend that passes. Unfortunately.‘

Equality appeared to be making more strides in the underbelly of human activity than in the workplace, but Thóra refrained from saying so out loud. ‘Her sister told me she’d been involved with a few rape cases, and among other things had to testify in court because of it. Is that right?’

Bjargey hesitated for a moment, then replied: ‘As I said, Alda was here mostly in the evenings and on weekends, and those are precisely the times most violent crimes are committed. Since her manner was particularly kind and gentle, she often took part in the examination and care of girls and women who had been subjected to such appalling acts. She also participated a little in the follow-up care of the victims in the cases where trust had developed between them and her. It’s much better for the women not to have to discuss what happened with too many people.’

‘Of course,’ said Thóra.‘What form does this follow-up care take?’

‘It varies,’ said Bjargey.‘It isn’t always possible to arrange counselling sessions, since some of the women are psychologically unstable and have difficulty keeping appointments. Of course attempts are made to proceed with face-to-face therapy, but in worst-case scenarios the cases are discussed by telephone. Alda was one of the few who didn’t mind giving her telephone number to the women, and she often provided counselling and support by phone.’ Bjargey added quickly: ‘Naturally she was paid for it, and she wrote down every phone call and filled out the appropriate paperwork.’ Bjargey looked at her watch again. ‘Is that everything?’

‘Yes, just one more thing before you go,’ said Thóra. ‘Did Alda ever talk about the Westmann Islands or the volcanic eruption in 1973?’

Bjargey frowned thoughtfully. ‘No, not that I recall,’ she said. ‘I actually worked with her over the Bank Holiday weekend last year and the Islands came up in our conversation. She told me that she was from there, I recall.’ She quickly added:‘Unlike other weekends, the Bank Holiday is relatively quiet in Reykjavik, as you know. So we had a peaceful shift and got to speak to each other a bit.’