‘No problem, Ódinn. Ring whenever you like. As often as you like. Just not so late next time.’
Ordinarily, Ódinn would have been embarrassed at having made a fool of himself, but right now he felt that one awkward phone call made no difference.
Outside the gale raged over the barren landscape, buffeting the windows with increasing ferocity, and Ódinn felt the throbbing in his ears adjust to keep time with the gusts. It didn’t help matters when the curtains billowed out, then fell back against the windows. But not quite flat. It looked as if there were a figure standing behind them. A small figure. Lára’s height.
Nothing could have made him lower his gaze to the floor in front of the curtains. He found himself expecting to see a pair of gruesomely bruised and shattered legs. Of course it was just his overactive imagination but even so he gathered up the papers in a panic, switched off the lights and vacated the sitting room. You could never be too sure.
Chapter 7
January 1974
Of all her chores, cleaning Veigar’s office was Aldís’s least favourite. It wasn’t because of the size since it was hardly more than a broom cupboard, with barely room for a desk, three bookshelves and an extra chair, squeezed in so tightly that any visitor with long legs would be impossibly cramped. Some of the boys were real beanpoles and no doubt this added to their woes when they were called into the office to be reprimanded. It was certainly hard to clean in such a tight space and Aldís spent her time trying not to knock over the teetering piles of papers on the desk. She often wondered what they contained and why Veigar didn’t file them away. Once or twice she’d run her eyes over the top pages but seen nothing of interest, and she’d never been tempted to dig further into the pile in case her employer caught her at it. He had a habit of materialising when she was cleaning, as if to check she wasn’t slacking.
Aldís almost had a heart attack when the phone on the desk starting ringing, causing the piles of paper to tremble. She’d been sweeping dust out of the corner and straightened up so suddenly that she banged her shoulder on the heavy bookcase. Putting down the broom, she rubbed her sore shoulder and stared at the black telephone. It fell silent. She was about to resume her sweeping when it began to shrill again, with renewed vigour. After the ninth ring, peace was restored. Aldís stared at the phone, realising that it had never rung before while she was in there. She stood as if hypnotised, convinced that it was waiting for her to turn back to her housework before shattering the silence again.
The moment she picked up the broom, it started. At every jangling ring she grew more agitated, feeling somehow that the call must be connected to her. Perhaps it was her mother, calling to tell Veigar how pathetic and useless she was; that the police had been informed about the money Aldís had stolen from her bag the evening she ran away. Far-fetched as it sounded, you never knew. Since her mother hadn’t made the slightest attempt to get in touch, she must still be angry with her. She could have picked up the phone or written; it wasn’t as if she didn’t know where Aldís was. The friend who’d put her up for the first few nights had told her mother about the job advertisement that Aldís had responded to: Young girl required to clean and assist in the kitchen at a residential care home in the capital area, pay as per collective wage agreements for public sector workers, etc. She wasn’t to know that the advertisement had been rather free with the facts; Krókur may have been closer to Reykjavík than, say, Akureyri, but ‘in the capital area’ was pushing it. Not that it would have made any difference; she had been desperate to get away at once.
Perhaps it was her friend calling? Aldís used to ring her from a payphone on the rare occasions when she went into town, but they seemed to be growing further apart every time they spoke, so much so that Aldís thought she probably wouldn’t bother to call her next time she got the chance. Perhaps their friendship would have lasted if she’d stolen in to use the office phone from time to time, but they’d only really become friends in the first place because they’d both been left out of the groups that formed when they started school. After Aldís left town, the girl had presumably found herself other company; during their last phone call she’d talked a great deal about a girl called Halla who worked with her at the fish shop. No doubt she had taken Aldís’s place.
The ringing stopped, only to start up again immediately. By now Aldís was convinced that the call was in some ominous way connected to her. She gnawed at her cheek, trying to decide what to do. But before she could make up her mind, her hand had picked up the receiver, almost of its own accord. She flushed as she raised it to her ear. It was weeks since she’d last spoken on the phone and she had never answered another person’s call before. She hadn’t the faintest idea what to say, but some part of her was glad she had done it. If she’d carried on cleaning and left it to ring, she would have spent all day, perhaps all week, worrying that something bad was going to happen; that her mother would ring again, for instance, and this time Veigar would answer. ‘Hello.’
The woman at the other end was so astonished to receive an answer that she was too flustered to introduce herself properly or explain who she was calling about. ‘Oh, er, hello. I just wanted to talk to someone who could give me news of my son – I’d rather talk directly to him but I’m told it’s not allowed.’ Aldís couldn’t speak, so the woman floundered on. It was obvious from her voice that she’d been nervous about making the call. ‘I’ve tried so often that I was about to give up. I’m on my break at work and got permission to use the phone but usually I can only call in the evenings and then nobody answers. I’d started to think I’d got the wrong number.’
‘I’m just the cleaner. I can’t help you.’ It sounded harsh but it was the truth.
‘Could you maybe fetch the person in charge? I wouldn’t take up much of his time.’ The woman couldn’t hide her desperation. ‘I’ve got to get back to work so I definitely wouldn’t keep him long.’
Her voice was imploring, as if Aldís were in possession of some drug that could save her life. But her hands were tied. ‘They have very strict rules about parents. The boys are forbidden to talk to them on the phone and I know Veigar doesn’t want any direct contact with them himself.’ The hesitation on the other end suggested the woman had no idea who Veigar was. ‘He’s the manager here and he’s in charge of everything.’
‘I see. But do you think he’d be willing to have a very quick word? I’m so terribly worried and just wanted news. It’s awful not knowing anything.’
Aldís wanted to tell the woman to try again later; she couldn’t help her, but the pain in her voice was too much. ‘What’s your son’s name?’
‘Einar. Einar Allen. Do you know him?’
Aldís stared down at her scuffed slippers. Originally tartan, they had been splashed so often while she was scrubbing the floors that the pattern had worn off the toes. ‘Yes, I know who he is.’
‘Could you tell me how he’s doing? Please.’ No doubt she had her pride but her question betrayed abject helplessness.
‘He’s fine.’ Aldís couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. The woman’s son, like all the others, was being driven mad by the futility of life at Krókur. And his frustration would grow worse with every day that passed, or so Aldís believed. She was dying to ask what Einar had done wrong but didn’t dare. ‘He’s reconciled to being here.’
The woman was no fool. ‘I don’t suppose you’d tell me if he wasn’t.’
‘Maybe not.’ Aldís thought she heard a noise out in the corridor. ‘I’ve got to go. I really shouldn’t be talking to you. I’ll be in trouble if I’m caught.’ She glanced at the door as if she expected it to be thrown open any minute, but, hearing nothing else, she relaxed slightly.
‘One more thing before you go. Give him my love. Tell him I think about him constantly.’ She broke off once she’d got this off her chest, then added in a rush: ‘And tell him to remember it was the right decision. The alternatives would have been much worse. It’s really important.’
<
br /> Aldís wasn’t sure if it was really important she pass on this last bit or if it was really important for Einar to remember. Maybe it was both. She didn’t know if she’d pass on any of it but agreed in order to cut the conversation short. She felt rather guilty about not being honest with the mother, so to make up for it she blurted out that she generally cleaned the office at this time on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in case the woman wanted to ring again. Then she hung up, cursing herself for having agreed to take a message. She had enough troubles of her own without becoming a go-between for this strange boy and his mother. Yet part of her wanted to be involved in the secret, as if she were part of a loving family again. She might learn something useful for when she had her own children.
* * *
‘Like me to leave while you’re doing that?’ Einar stood awkwardly in the doorway of the room he shared with another boy. His expression had been ugly when he opened the door, but softened when he saw who it was. ‘The others are out. They’ve got an extra lesson but I was let off.’ Lilja was responsible for the teaching at the home, which was mostly for the sake of appearances.
‘You needn’t leave. I’m only going to give it a quick sweep.’ Aldís had known he’d be in his room; Lilja had been complaining about having to give the boys extra tuition after the coffee break, and let slip that Einar and a couple of the others had a free period. Aldís had mentioned casually to Veigar that she was going to clean the floor in the boys’ dormitory, but he was too engrossed in the bills that had arrived with the milk van to give her alternative orders. For the same reason he had failed to notice that she was unusually smart, wearing her neatly combed hair loose and dressed in her least shabby clothes.
Einar opened his door wide to let her in, but didn’t move, so they touched briefly as she slipped past. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her blush. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ If she was honest, she’d have to admit to herself that a spark of attraction had been kindled inside her, which she really shouldn’t fuel. She shouldn’t have come here. The sensible thing would be to avoid this boy. His attraction probably stemmed from the fact that he was superior to all the other males in the place, which wasn’t saying much. He seemed mature, without being old and worn out like the workmen. A straight-A student among a class of slow kids. But it was too late to be sensible now that she was standing in his room, and if she was going to give him the message, this would probably be her only chance. She might not be able to catch him alone again any time soon.
‘Your job’s pretty boring, right?’ Einar threw himself down on the bottom bunk, which she knew belonged to his room-mate.
Aldís shrugged, her colour deepening. What was the matter with her? She was much older than him; it should be the other way round: he should be shy in her presence. Why should she be ashamed of her job when her situation was a sight better than his? She wasn’t the one locked up in a juvenile detention centre. ‘Well, it’s not the most exciting job in the world. The moment I’ve saved enough money I’m out of here.’
‘What’ll you do then?’ He rested his cheek on his hand and gazed at her, almost unblinkingly. His gaze was challenging, his dark eyes hard to read.
‘I’m going to get a job in a fashion boutique. Or become an air hostess.’ It was impossible to turn any redder. Aldís had never told anyone her plans before, but then, thinking back, she realised no one had ever asked.
‘Do you speak English?’
Aldís was relieved he hadn’t laughed at her dreams or said that a frump like her could never become an air hostess or work in a fashion boutique; that she should stick to scrubbing floors. ‘A little. I’ve got a textbook that I’m studying.’
Einar continued to gaze at her. ‘I used to want to be a pilot. My dad was in the air force.’
Given his foreign surname, Aldís wasn’t surprised. ‘I bet he was pleased. Proud, I mean.’ Who knew, maybe one day they might work on the same plane?
‘He doesn’t have any contact with me. He and my mum were never in a relationship. He’s got a new family somewhere in America.’
Aldís leant on her broom. ‘At least you have a nice mother. Mine’s a real cow. I hope I never see her again.’ She straightened up, a little annoyed with herself. It wasn’t a fair description of her mother, who’d been good to her until her recent betrayal. But Aldís hardened her heart, smothering any feelings of sentimentality or regret. She didn’t want to forgive her mother. She didn’t deserve it. ‘Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’ve got a message from your mother.’
There was a creak from the thin wooden base of the bed as Einar abruptly sat up and swung his feet over the side. For a split second, remembering his ferocious temper, Aldís thought he was going to attack her. If he went for her like he had Keli the other day, she’d be completely defenceless. But it turned out that wasn’t what he had in mind. ‘Where did you see her?’
‘I answered the phone in Veigar’s office – don’t know what came over me – but your mother was terribly grateful. He’d never have spoken to her.’ As Einar didn’t reply, she asked warily if she’d done the right thing by letting him know; if he really wanted to hear his mother’s message.
‘What did she say?’
‘She asked me to tell you that she thinks of you constantly. Or you’re constantly on her mind. I forget which. Not that it matters. She sounded like she was missing you.’
Einar nodded carefully. ‘Thanks. Did she say anything else?’
Aldís was about to say no when she remembered what the woman had added. The important bit. ‘Yes, she said the decision had been for the best. No, sorry, she said to remember you made the best choice. Or something like that. And that it was important.’
Again Einar’s dark head moved up and down, more emphatically this time. Aldís couldn’t tell how he was taking the news. ‘Do you understand what she meant?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ He didn’t seem to want to discuss it, so Aldís didn’t press him. How was it possible to understand and yet not understand?
‘If she rings again, should I pass on a message?’ Careful not to meet his eye, Aldís started sweeping. The floor was fairly clean; there was no dust under the bunk, only a single, inside-out sock. Bending down, she picked it up and put it on the bed. When she first started work at the home she’d been revolted by having to touch dirty socks or hair in the plughole, but she’d long since got over her squeamishness.
‘Tell her I’m looking forward to going home.’ Einar lifted his feet off the floor so Aldís could sweep under the bed. ‘There’s nothing else to say, really. What would you want to hear if you were her?’
‘Me?’ Aldís smiled, then saw he was serious. ‘I don’t know. Maybe that you’re doing OK, in spite of everything. It’s not like it’ll do any good to tell her you’re having a lousy time – if you are. It’ll only make her feel bad too. Better just to lie.’
‘I’m neither happy nor unhappy, so you can tell her that without having to lie. Being here’s like being shut in a box, like being snatched out of your life and put in storage. Everyone here’s like that, like they’re just waiting for this to end. Every day that passes, you’re one day closer to going home and picking up your life again.’ He grabbed the broom handle. Aldís was taken aback: he was much stronger than he looked. ‘But you’re different somehow. Your life’s not on hold.’
She wondered if that was good or bad. If he was right, it must be because she had nowhere else to go. He had friends – and a mother. But there was no one waiting for her. It looked as if she’d even lost her schoolfriend. Her eyes dropped to his hand on the broom handle. ‘I’ve got to get on. It’ll be suppertime soon and I’ll have to go and help.’
Einar released his grip and drew his feet onto the bunk again. He was silent and Aldís didn’t dare continue the conversation. There was so much she wanted to know about him but she was afraid of saying something stupid. Instead, she concentrated on finishing the floor, stooping so she could reach right under the bed. Towards the
back the broom encountered an obstacle that was heavy, yet strangely yielding, unlike anything she’d found under the boys’ beds before. Clothes were softer; magazines, books and shoes more solid. She stole a quick glance at Einar but his face was unreadable. Neither of them spoke, though it must have been clear from her expression that something was wrong.
Perhaps it was the oppressive silence, but Aldís was suddenly gripped by a strong reluctance to look under the bed or drag the object out into the open. Rather than stand there, open-mouthed and rooted to the spot, she forced herself to bend down, only to get a shock. There was nothing there: only a peculiar odour, like damp moss or earth. After a moment, she looked under the bunk again. It was dark over by the wall, but she could see nothing that could have obstructed the broom. The odour was stronger, but now it reeked of decay, like fish that had been sitting too long by the kitchen sink.
Instead of asking Einar to check if he could smell it, Aldís decided to keep quiet; she had an intuition that this experience was intended for her alone. Hastily, she swept up the last bits without bothering to push the broom under the bunk again. She mumbled something as she closed the door, and he mumbled back. On the way to the kitchen all she could think about was what the broom might have encountered. Her mind presented her with the image of Lilja’s dead baby, the blood that coated it now turned black, the glistening eyes open and covered in a grey film of mould. Aldís pulled her sleeves over her fingers in an attempt to combat the chill that seized her. What on earth had become of the child?
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