Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - I Remember You

Freyr told himself there was no point going over this endlessly; it was clear that Benni would already have been dead by the time the other boy finally heard the news. Had he been conscious he would have made his presence known when the septic tank was taken off the trailer and put on the boat that brought it over to Hesteyri. He’d probably had a diabetic seizure when he realized his situation as the car drove off, his panicked state calling for insulin that his weakened bodily functions were unable to supply, and after that there had been no hope. Why he hadn’t made his presence known when the trailer was hooked back up to the car was a question that would never be answered; maybe he’d considered it but feared a tongue-lashing from the trailer’s owner. But really, if there were anyone to blame, it was Freyr himself. If he hadn’t gone to meet Líf he wouldn’t have hit the other car, and then the trailer wouldn’t have been there when Benni and the boy turned up. Then Benni would have hidden behind something fixed, been found, and life would have continued as it was supposed to. ‘I’m such an idiot, Dagný.’ He didn’t explain this, and she didn’t press him.

‘I think we should get going. If you’re sure you want to come along.’ Her tone was embarrassed, as if she worried that their conversation would take a personal turn. He didn’t blame her. ‘I found a skipper who’s willing to take us over. Veigar’s coming too; I’m not on duty so it’s better for him to be there. But the sea is rough, so if you suffer from seasickness I’d advise you to think twice about it.’

Freyr looked at her. He hadn’t the slightest idea whether he suffered from seasickness, since he’d rarely ever been to sea. Nor did it matter; he was prepared to puke his guts out to get to Hesteyri. ‘I’m coming with you.’ His voice contained all the conviction that was lacking in his soul.

The torch was of little use against the dark, but from the boat’s deck Freyr could see the outlines of houses on the low ground between the beach and the mountains, whose upper reaches couldn’t be distinguished from the heavily clouded night sky. ‘I tried to warn them.’ The captain pulled tightly on the rope with which he’d tied the boat fast to the pier. The sea was choppy and it was best to make sure that the boat would definitely still be there when they turned back. ‘I didn’t want to scare the life out of them, so I didn’t go into too much detail, but I can tell you that this house doesn’t have a great reputation. You can see over the fjord from there and probably a lot of people have died looking across at it, the last thing they ever saw in this life. It must have had some effect. There’s nothing like the desperation of a drowning man; maybe it’s contagious.’

Veigar snorted. ‘We’ll look in on them; it’s their house we’re heading up to. Their phones are off and they haven’t called, you say?’

‘No, but I didn’t expect them to. We’d already agreed that I would come and fetch them tomorrow evening. I’m hoping they’ll be ready to leave right now, so I don’t have to make the trip tomorrow. The forecast is pretty bad, so they could be stuck here for another day or two. It isn’t strange that they’ve turned off their phones; I asked them to save the batteries in case anything came up. They probably took me at my word.’

Freyr turned off his torch to conserve the power. ‘The house looks empty. It’s as dark as the others.’

The skipper shot him a patronizing look. He didn’t need torch-light to see how little the man thought of him. Freyr had sat there pale and silent the entire trip, though it had had nothing to do with seasickness. He’d concentrated on listening to his travel companions chatting back and forth, sometimes lowering their voices to say things he didn’t manage to grasp. In this way he’d managed to keep his head together, not fall apart at the thought of what lay ahead. He prayed to the God in whom he didn’t believe that the septic tank would still be disconnected, that the man had gone missing before he’d got it in working order and that the three people from Reykjavík who were here for the same purpose had started on some other project than getting it set up. His child deserved much better. He felt nauseous – but not from seasickness. ‘There’s no electricity here, mate. They’re probably there, even though the house isn’t as lit up as the houses down south.’

‘I understand.’ Freyr was happy that the man seemed to have no idea who he was or what he was doing there. This ensured that the way he acted towards Freyr was motivated by something other than pity, which was fine by him; it meant less risk of him breaking down.

They stepped onto the pier and went ashore. The pier creaked loudly beneath their feet, but only silence and stillness awaited them at the top of the beach. Houses that had once been surrounded by vibrant life now either stood empty or had been converted into summer cottages. Freyr felt as if the buildings were gazing hopefully at them, wondering if the residents had finally returned. He half expected to hear a soft sigh when the houses realized they hadn’t. But of course no such thing happened; there was only the silence, and it was so oddly heavy that none of them wanted to break it. So, saying nothing, they simply set off. For everyone but Freyr, the walk was nothing more than a necessary part of getting to the house; to him, every step was an important stage in an inevitable reckoning with the tragedy he’d caused for those he loved most.

Maybe the alcohol was finally starting to have an effect, or else depression was beginning to grip him, but Freyr felt as if he could hear a whispering in the dead vegetation that bordered the path leading from the pier. Their torch beams cast peculiar shadows, making it look as if something were moving on both sides. The cones of light swung irregularly to and fro, making it difficult for them to focus their eyes on anything. In one place Freyr thought he heard footsteps a few metres away, as if someone were walking beside the path, a silent escort who didn’t want to be seen. He stopped and swung his torch round, pointing it left and right and then at the high, uncultivated ground, but saw nothing. He also tried to shine the light into the wall of vegetation surrounding the path, but saw nothing except darkness between the yellowed stalks.

‘What?’ Dagný had turned and walked back to him as he stood and stared at the light.

‘I thought I heard someone, but I can’t see anything.’ He straightened up.

‘Probably just a fox. There are lots of them here.’ She looked at him as if searching for signs that he’d lost his mind. ‘You can wait here or down at the pier. I’ll come and get you when we know whether your theory is right. It’s not necessary for you to be with us the whole time, and probably not wise.’

‘No, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry.’ Freyr tried to appear confident. Of course he should wait and let them call for him when everything was finished, but he couldn’t. He wanted to witness with his own eyes every step that revealed the whereabouts of his son, rather than sit alone in the darkness, waiting for whatever might come.

‘Okay, then.’ Dagný didn’t sound convinced. ‘You go in front. I don’t want you lagging behind and getting lost. We have enough to worry about as it is.’

Freyr raised no objection to this, since it was simpler and would speed up the process. Nor could he deny that he’d been at the point of pushing the vegetation aside to see what lay beyond it when Dagný had interrupted him. As they trudged onwards in the cold he was careful not to look over his shoulder or aim the torch anywhere but straight ahead, so that Dagný wouldn’t realise that he still felt as if something were following them. He desperately longed to turn around and ask whether she could hear whispering or a crackling in the brush, but was afraid she would send him straight back down to the boat. So he bit his lip and pushed back the desire to flee, despite his body shouting at him to stay alert and run away from this strange threat. When they’d crossed a little stream and come to the house, their destination, Freyr realized that he was drenched with sweat despite the still, cold air.